Perception, in the kitchen.

Running in the morning.  Ahead on timeline.  IF you could call it that.  Great day in meetings, dinner with parents.  Still hungry but not eating anymore.  Writing novel on her… her… the one wanting more… the character changing jobs, going for creative and not the expected.  I should go to bed, she orders.  I resist knowing I shouldn’t.  In Kerouac beat mode, on beat time.  So what then… more story, more in this kitchen.  Cards for the babies, Valentine’s Day.  What is that.  I’ve never known.

Going to have capping of night, then to bed go… running in morning.  Have to write more on the run, the run is life, is love is reason, is the counter to the counter, the counterargument to anything pessimistic.

Sitting in this kitchen, at the parent’s house… some could judge, and that’s fine.  I’m so focused on my control and centeredness of things.  Some will argue, object and counter-cross-object and puff their legalistic language in so many climates and shapes, but I just don’t listen.  Right now, I’m righted in my Now.

More than simple perception or sight, I don’t know how to define it and I really don’t know how.  I don’t care to.  I think of the poets I study, and the diarists I admire, like Ms. Plath and Pac, Hem with his letters, and Mr. Sedaris, and I find so much funny.  I’m going to delight in life, knowing some will say something.

Distracted by messages.  Should go to bed.  And keep with my stance, keep with my keep, assert the sight and acknowledgement of everything around me.  The world is funny, Humans are funny and barely deserve that capital.  No one in this kitchen but me. Running when it’s dark. So.. go.  Light jazz in back, and me just going from thought to thought, possibility to new newness with this new movement.  Some would maintain a detriment in my narrative, but the peripatetic jabs are only a lucrative tell.  Somehow, they ought be.



Just facetious, it’s 24.  In an antagonist’s angle, this morning.  Feeling more in control of this AAE position than I have since accepting it.  For one, don’t do your job so much, I’m telling myself.  Make connections, and not the corny urgency of “It’s who you know”.  No.  I’m talking about connecting everything you do.  Everything you have in your story.  Everything that you already are and everything you’ve studied, and have some prowess in…. use that in your new position.  Make more self-notes.  Lose nothing, log everything.  Even how I’m starting the day, sharing my three aims of writing tomorrow’s lecture, having only ONE coffee after this latte if any at all, and running at lunch.  76 more days to go till autopilot is initiated and set.  Yesterday at winery working as quick and feverishly as I was, like I was full-time again in the industry and thank the Craft I’m not, but I felt in that character again, and it was telling me something about this, what I’m doing here, at this desk and in the Sonic office.

Have a meeting at 10.  More than ready for it.  Will showcase, or maybe just show, how I “sell”, and how I present.  Excited about it for reasons that are all over this blog, but learning about the character, their business, what they want.  Not so much that 80/20 rule or idea of listening when prospecting, but showing a genuine interest in what they want.  Connectedness, community, creativity.  Yesterday while in the tasting room, and walking back and forth from the cave with visitors, no matter how stressful (I wasn’t stressed, at all, please note.) it got, I never detached from the character and what they were saying.  They constituted the entirety of the Now, and the freedom was from any potential angst or worry of conversion.  I did sell wine, but I didn’t care.  I learned the story of the people, the couple that drove out from Sonoma to celebrate the man’s birthday.  He, with his wife.

Feel like I’m on auto, already.  Like I not even need touch the yoke.  Like the switch has already been flipped.  Like I’m not working. Utter creative.  Thieved my own destiny.  You decide the words, you decide the story, you decide the YOU of it all.  I am on autopilot.  Enjoying the flight.  Enjoying the peripatetic sight and presence of everything.

Need to drink water, for run.  Be more than hydrated when in that 80 degree breeze, if there is a breeze.  Hoping there is.  This Account Executive story, in its I believe 40th day of duty, exactly like running.  I’m running, catching my own time, old time, and beating it.  Not even nine o’clock, and I have answers, questions, multiple theses, a new music.  Not stopping, can’t let self stop.  Notes for tomorrow’s lecture, now water.  People around me talking, not listening.  I’m in head of this new character and story.  Not selling, but listening, and at times speaking.  I’m finding that with work we complicate and over-oscillate and inwardly debate incessantly and that’s what compromises our fate, indefinitely.


Back from lunch, and still tired.  Sipping from the last coffee I got self, which was the first, from the breakroom.  Made one call, straight to voicemail.  Want to transact…. Want to fucking SELL.  Can feel myself getting impatient, and this IS valuable to readers in sales.  Don’t get impatient.  Don’t let yourself get lost in your impatient form of self.

Start with the people you know.  That’s all I can now muster and see and promising, beneficial.

Get enough sleep.  Tonight I will be sure to be in bed as soon as home.  Definitely before 9.  In order to know my Now, and control it to a point where I’m freed, I need adequate rest.  If I can get it.  You can probably tell that right now I’m a bit wandering and sluggish, more than usual.  So… keep working.  Get back on the bloody phone…