Playing at the park up and then down the street, down a little hill,

I’m definitively into my zen tilt and happiness takeover and project.  Sipping Rose in a plastic cup I found in Mike’s cupboard I think about wine and what I want with it.  Again.  Kids unaffected by this, this evacuation.  To them it’s a getaway, a vacation, something that has no flames, or threats, evacuations or dangers.  It’s fun.  They make it fun.  Actually, no, they don’t MAKE it anything.  They just see opportunity for enjoyment, to relax and play on that slide and those swings.

Not going into Sonic tomorrow, and I feel guilty, but then don’t.  I want to and need to be here with the babies.  Write. Get out of my comfort zone as much as I hate that phrase, but that’s just what I need do.  Saw a bench at the park or rather just in the not-too-distant distance in front of and on the side of a large grass field that you might think is used for polo but I think it’s just a grand and nearly overwhelming grass field for kids to play on.  Soccer, chase, tag, what be.

This house I could see as an office, or some property I’d own for either a rental or just an office.  Rather big for just an office but it’s what’s smattered in my inner sigh sense, blogging in here for weeks, just locked in and forcing self to produce a book from the blog.  The blog has to come first, and the realizer and readier for whenever I’m stuck or feel I’m recycling the same sentences, is the Now.  Write the Now.  Where you are and what you’re doing.

Jack and Emma watch the Grinch, one of the dozens or hundreds of versions, and eat some Cheerios from a red cup, the kind you’d see at a frat party.  Jack spills some and I tell him to pick it up and he tells me he will after he comes back from China.  I laugh a little but try to be serious and then tell self fuck that.  Have fun with them.  Be one on and of the playground.

I need to play more.  Not think so much. Not work, but only create, write, stay up late and pepper the manuscript’s streets with verse, pages, my phylum of music.  Keep pushing these keys and refuse to let self stop, the wine tells me.  Don’t allow distractions, obstructions.  Poetry is the vein, the blood, the beat, the blog, the Now ME.

Playing with the wine, the pink puddle in the plastic cannikin.  Turning left, seeing Broncos play Raiders.  Thinking more of my office.. what I want in there.  Anything that antagonizes, promotes, encourages creativity, bringing something to life.  This bought with Sonoma County wildfires plates a dose of déjà vu that I wasn’t expecting, to just live and write wildly and edit nothing.  Kids getting restless, and me too.  To finish this fucking book, and light MY story on fire.  Several fires.  And be so lovingly monstrous that it can never be extinguished.

Cuz F This S …

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10/27/19

Again evacuated.  2017 on repeat. Up since 3-something-AM but I’m now awake from latte and writing this in Haley’s room.  Melissa’s little cousin now not so little in Med School.  There’s something everywhere, I know, but I think I’ve had it with Sonoma County.  And wine.  Wine people and the industry of course…. Driving here just after 4am, thinking to self this is the first day of the remainder of my life.  Meeting a man earlier, 90-something (93?), and realizing that I will no longer edit, censor, hold back, but be more profuse with happiness and elevating echo.  And poetry.

Writing about blogging, blog about writing, everything on blog… embrace more and tell more the role and “title” of blogger, what it means if anything.

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Day SIXTY-SEVEN

Feeling a bit overwhelmed, and scattered and stressed with all these projects, with all these directions.  No matter, no weights slows this writer.  Craving my own office like I never have.  With plenty energy today, not having a drop of wine last night and going to bed stupendously early.  Think… think…. What to put out next, in terms of story….  The morning, the coffee, the pen, the paper.  That’s it, like I always stress to students.. Where are you and what are you doing?

Mapping out day, even though it’s most mapped.  Going for a run at 11:30, then back in office and head to Petaluma.  Set appointments.  I want at least two, for the day.  Log everything…. Places hit, self-evaluation, notes on what to say even though I keep it not so much simple but succinct and unassuming.

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sonic jots

Sonic fires new fire into my thought plain.  Seeing tech as not just tech but a foremost arena and surface to propel in ideas, with new ideas… that encourages those reach impulses.  That never stops.  More than the technology side, but the human side.  The community and communicative curvature.  I see this, all of this. Me in my role and not just a “role”.  Hate that word, frankly.  This is beyond some simple role to play, and I’m not playing.  Or maybe I am, but with purpose, sight, a result of the collective and pervasive invitation of the office and its tongue.  Sonic instructs me to not focus so much on the tech, to stop stressing about it as I sometimes do.  What are you, it asks.  I’m a writer, and maybe teacher.  So, then, Sonic says, do that.  And only that. Learning new things is never of detriment but trying to distance yourself from the purest note of you is unhealthy.  Unwise.  Don’t do it, the company around me commands.

I’ve always said this company is about not so much solution but remedy, and a connectedness you don’t find in other business practices, other places of work.  Antithetical in so many regards while concurrently proving more productive and efficient that other spaces. What can I say about where I sit, what I hear, what I do day over day.  Love, yes.  Curiosity, of course.  But there’s something else.  Something for which I don’t yet have words and maybe I never will. I’m not a techie, I’m a live-ie.  I’m living, with more full form and forward.

Sonic encourages its encouraging barrage.  Even now, at end-of-day, I’m not ready to leave.  And I arrived at 6:20-something if my tired memory is properly serving, to attend a tech event in Oakland .  I’m still in the chair, I more than care, I’m more than connected.  This is the office and what it does to writers like me, people not from the tech world and at one time in their life thought they’d never be in this wheel of work but here I am.  And here I’m planted, connected.  The communication and encouragement, creative, is too delicious.

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project

9/10/19

Same energy as yesterday.  Quick, elevated, hungry and fucking fearless.  Got a parking ticket downtown while at meeting at SR Chamber.  Totally my fault.  Was suggested I make Sonic pay for, but no.  I’m owning it as lesson to self.

Found company I very much want to know better, work with.  Just gave info to reception, and who knows if that’ll ever get to where it’s intended.  Not a shot at the lady that answered, that’s just how it goes.  Keeping my movement with a bright blaze that strays all ways.

Looking at another company, now.  And I’ve found to prospecting when you’re too diagnostic and not enough curious and conversational, human, then you’ve detracted from your potential to achieve whatever it is you want.

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13

8/15/19.

Going through business cards.  Building community, today.  Writing about writing, in other project.  Tired from waking just after 5, and long day yesterday.  Novato mixer, tonight.  Keep self moving.  ‘Nother cup of coffee from office.  Too hot for a walk, or any “fresh air”.  To me, air is never fresh when it’s hot.

Tired, and not as functional as I should be.  But I keep working, moving… need to accelerate other projects.  Winery this weekend, time on Saturday to tend to certain projects.  Lunch now, some training later, then Novato event.

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A Walk to the Front Door

Words, having conviction.  Conviction is not only what “sells”, but what proves memorable.  First sip of coffee, off. Off into the journal, on the Road.  Was thinking something yesterday, about travel and moving, movement.  But the specifics are lost on me this morning.  Plan for today is simple—Calls.  Speak on Sonic, speak on ideas, ideas for businesses, and writing–  THAT’S IT.  Yesterday someone messaging me, asking me if I want to go on a writing adventure with them.  They concerned about being a good writer, they don’t know writing well, they’ve been told for years that their writing isn’t mighty.  I tried my best to quell their concerns and anxieties.  I urged them to just write.  Then I told myself that I need do the same.  Today at lunch, writing and reading.  Writing about my reading.  After receiving the message last night while tasting some 2016 Landmark Pinot which surprised me with its attractive act and tap, I saw Jack upstairs in his room beginning his new Harry Potter book.  Can’t remember the title, which one it is in the series, but the thick one.  Or the most meaty, weighty page stack I’ve seen him bring home to day.  I thought the reading and writing adventure are, or should be, always in helix.

Not sure I was even walking to the front door of the building, after parking.  Felt like I was floating.  I nearly hovered past the door.  Why.  What’s causing this meditation about my character and in my inner voices.  There’s like, I don’t know, a student and professor chant about the morning. I’m learning, with a learning curve that doesn’t indicate any compromise or handicap.  Now that I’m through the door and in the building, I’m moving.  This Mike Madigan knows what he wants but doesn’t know too much about it.  Hence, I suppose, the nature to this project.  On this 6th step of it.  What now, and to where.

The wine last night put my visions and meditations in a number of noted tumbles, forcing more thought and words, conviction in wine.  Chardonnay and Pinot, and whatever else.  The conversation around me currently interrupts the inner recital.  Wish people would just be quiet, but they’re doing their job, and well at that, what I should be doing.  Okay, I say to self.  Note everything, like one of the people talking now that minces my concentration.  He showed me a photo log of sites that he’s inspected and where installs have been transpired.  I was daunted by his photos, not just by how many there were, but the variation and expanse of focus.  Am I aiming to be the top sales person in this division, I thought last night with the Pinot?  No.  Not necessarily.  But I will make an impression, or have my story read.  Not so much a story on sales, but doing something different.  Writer in a tech office.  Often I sense some quake in my character grieving, “I don’t want to write about that….” Or “Don’t write about Sonic.” But ever, that’s all I think about.  This new character, the new story.

A thousand words, Friday’s beginning.  Have to send flight plan, as I call it, to Mark.  Then, off into day.  Prospecting, yes, but building… story.  The story and how I write this new story is how “success” will be gripped.  Appetite for associate words and sentences, more pages in these business cards, this messy work area that I wish somehow I could find time to organize. May come in on Sunday, before winery. Shit… forgot to bring new journal.  Wonder if they have any here, like the ones I see Tasha with, or other people in Marketing.  Checked, and no.  No matter. There are legal pads, and I swear to not start as I have in the not so removed past where I begin penning on one and don’t reach the last page.  Remembering that movie, Crashing, where the writer only used legal sheets, writing on the couch of those two English students. Miss being a student, miss going to class and writing, having something to turn in. Then why not do it again?  Okay….  I’m a student.  Studying, well, THIS.  The Now.  Tasha told me those little journals were from a TedX event years ago, and they’re all being used or have been used.  I have legal sheets,   Elephantine plains that want my words, or I’m telling myself they do.

Reading Road again, as I noted the other day.  And already it strikes me differently.  Not just with Dean in how he’s presented, but the narration and how it always returns to Dean.  That is the singularity.  He is Sal’s Road, even when he’s not on page, or at all in a chapter.  Reading now as my son does his Potter manuscripts.  Just thought, while reading a bit of Road that I should use the blog as my notebook. I don’t need another legal pad.  Already have one on desk, to right next to elbow under a little notepad.  Need more coffee. Already.

Projects beginning to surface.  Wondering how much more writing I’d have to page if I ceased using paper.  Apart from the legal pad.  Or, what if I decommissioned that, too?  More space on desk…. Post-it’s under forearms.  One of them reading, “Before you write—Where are you and what are you doing?  In one word, and ideally one syllable.” Think.  See.  I’m seeing where I want to go in this AE walk.  Keep everything simple.  Say less, listen more.  One project, one word, Sales.  How it should never be sales, how what so many want to do is convert before contributing to a conversation, a new association and relationship.  Right after I walked through the door this morning, I told myself, “Today, no selling.” When I call down these lists, I notice myself getting at times unsettled, or anxious.  And I’m not even on the call yet much less through the door talking about what we can do for them.  No selling.  Just call and say HI.  That’s it.

8/9/19

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Day FIVE

Oneness Again Promised

Meeting with leads group this morning.  Shot quick video.  Productivity already producing and profuse, this morning.  Hoping to run at lunch, but I’m considerably hungry.  Can eat right after the run, telling self.  Keep the movement noticeably to self, and educating.

Garmin charging, workout articles under desk.  Everything I need for a lunch run, right here with me.  No excuses, like so many of my running connections say.  Leaving for Petaluma meeting in twenty minutes.  Then back here for some calls, creative prospecting work.  Creativity, conversation…. Last night I decided to prove more that I can actuate what I advocate.  Produce more through control of character, story, control the character and you control the story.

May have to cancel afterwork meeting, today.  Not happy about doing do.  Today on day 5 of my mission to the office and Road and whatever else, I’m seeing the story with more glimmer and promise.  And that waking early, earlier than usual needs to be a set practice.  It’s more than philosophy, more than discipline.  It’s right here, in the Sonic office with me.  What I do for Sonic and how I approach business.  Creatively.  It should always be creative, and ever-moving, changing, evolving and vocal, narrative.

Last night before going to bed, I decided to change the story.  How I see everything.  Hoping to maintain it indefinitely, if not eternally.  But there needs to be a shift in disposition.  A takeover of yay-saying presence and speak.  I want my first signing, in my new post in this business-to-business department.  I feel it nearing, but feeling isn’t material.  I’ll just force it into immediacy.   With poetic business hand.  Not so much doing the job less, but speaking and utilizing self MORE.

Anymore this could be a business blog, not a wine blog.  But it’s wine that taught me to study more closely the Now, where I am and what I’m doing.  Wine precipitated and initiated all this.  This is a ramble, I know, but that’s what the morning has caused and promoted in my story.  The movement tireless, and I can’t stop in the composition of my principle composition.

Challenge to self, today… more singularity, more focus.  Promising self, ONENESS.  Containment.  Support and speak the thesis, like I begged students.  I would always tell them, start with and return to a singular word or thought.  This morning reminds me, as does the Sonic office.  Shifting character, mood, approach, disposition like I said.  A set practice, yes, but one trenchant and repeatedly told.  Taking off, like Kerouac.  For the Road, my Road, my character and story revisited.  Writing about this office and what it provides in way of prose and specifics… the pens, files, notes, folders, notes to self, folders with self notes and visions.

8/8/19

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4:37pm

Sipping the last of my sparkling cherry water and the last person in this “bullpen” as we call it leaves.  Time alone… time to think about today versus yesterday, and how I allowed mood and attitude to pollute my tune.  My music, my day.  Not this day, though.  I was overthinking, everything.  This job, and any, any vision or aim, any pursuit is as simple as starting a conversation, maintaining the conversation. This quite time to self is working.  More than working, it’s assembling self, more self.

Funny conversation off to my right, on the other side of the wall, girl telling one of her male friends that she’s going to dip her muffin in mayonnaise.  Not sure of the relevance, but I laughed nearly with audible reach.  I need to laugh more.  More comedy in my story.  Like with wine, and the industry, and how people take it so seriously and many times want to be seen as THAT person to go to for wine, rather than just shutting the fuck up and letting people drink…. I don’t know, I’ve always found comedic weight in that.  Composition, and story.  And to me yesterday, with my whatever it was… I should have just laughed.  I’m laughing now, truthfully.  Not thinking, just laughing.  Now they’re talking about some other food activity, with mayonnaise and cucumbers.  Have I told you I actually like cucumbers now?  I used to hate them when younger, or even into my more recent years.  But now, I like cucumbers.  Random, weird… just laugh.

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Back from Novato.  One thing I learned by happenstance, not much forethought or method, is that your job in sales is introducing.  Introducing what.  YOURSELF.  Say hi.  That should be your objective in canvassing, or prospecting.  Say hi, wish everyone a good day or whatever, and after communication has been established, then get into specifics, services, what be.  Again, not boasting, just learned this concept in the words I above use just today.  Left Novato with six heightened prospects.  Sent them to exec, everything sounding good, so my persona and perspective glimmers today.  Attitude, remember that…. Attitude.  How you see everything.  Like with wine, the being need be maintained in all facets, from stage initial and onward.  It should never stop, the habit and practice and maintenance of both in your efforts.

Do your job less… conversations.. Learning… educating self.  The day, this company (Sonic), and the drive down and back remind me that there are no unattainables.  All is invitation.  Needing to consolidate notebooks, keep simple, contained, accessible.  The IT to it all.  Know that, and you know how to reach any aim.

Day winding down, and already I plan tomorrow.  I’m thinking back to Novato, or down to San Rafael, then up to Novato.  Making my territories those two cities, to start.  Know all roads, business parks, business types, where to park, etc.  One day at a time, and being this is only Day THREE of a project I’m still unsure toward what it is, temperament is imperative.  This time in my story is one for elevation, consolidation, altitude.  Shared with students and people in this company I don’t know how many times—Amplify, Intensify, Diversify.  That’s how I’ll reach my winery, my own little label from my rise here.  Thought, in all of this.  Each business card, each day prospecting or canvassing is meant to contribute to ascension.  So now, off the runway.

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