Day 9.  About conviction, about defiance, about all of us finding what we’re searching for.  Coltrane playing me and eased track.  Didn’t record my spoken word piece yesterday.  Was distracted by that bottle of Inspiration Syrah, the quiet of the house, and thoughts of writing about the wine industry.  When in my office, I see such a book taking shape, in not much time either.  Citing everything from the ridiculous pay, to the overwhelming focus on anything but get wine, to patterns and posturing from those patterns.
A truck passes me on 128.  Hate typing on my phone, but this is what I have currently.  Hoping for a day not at all busy.  Not at all preoccupied with the winery making its number for the month, but more my sanity, my sentences, this project and others.
This week in the office, I’m going to loudly and communicatively accelerate all movements and sights.  Why can’t I be the highest selling AE in my first year?  There is no law or rule or policy prohibiting such.  Actually, Sonic is the atmosphere that enables and emboldens such a progression to take place.  Whatever we do for work, we need not only make it our own, but have it teach us and be a measure of effort.  We should always seek to against ourselves compete.
Bed early tonight.  Wake at 5, 4 if you can.  At the end of 100 days, there will be a visual of such altitude, such attainment.  If I’m not the highest earner, I’ll have shocked everyone with what I’ve done.  Make calls, SET APPOINTMENTS…. just say hi.  Forget about return, certainly immediate return.  That’s a foot shot, I’ve learned, and an error the wine industry continues to seemingly want to make.  And I e never figured out why, why they expect such instant transaction and metrics ascension.  I’ve given up trying to learn, now focusing on my Sonic story and sense of new sense and story, character.
This writing spot, little spacious and sizeable inlet, used to write here in 2012 as I mentioned, and later in 2017 when working at the Foley camp.  Now, story is different.  Not at all fearful to question and defy regularity and policy, not that I was before.  But Sonic has shown me that one idea can prove purposeful and provide a purpose which pervades till your final day.  Such is now, such is me, such is my poetic and newly purposed immediacy.
What do I want from the day.  Peace.  Ideas for this week.  Ideas on growth, branding and rebranding but more than that…. CHARACTER.  Story.  Life.  Revolution.  Start acting like a revolutionary, I said to myself and some other people at Sonic a few months ago.  Today…. watch.  And won’t do so with malice or a burn-bridge intent, but to have my identity known.  For all in contact with me, not just for me.  If I’m not making sense I apologize….. you’ll see what I mean, shortly.

Day FOUR

Latte.  Again the only one in bullpen as phone trainers leave.  Technical Trainers, I think is their actual title.  Headed to San Rafael, in a little over an hour.  Notes, today.  Only aim.  And put each note on blog or into some something-spere.  Aujourd’hui, que du bonheur…. The only way I’ll move and perpetuate my story.  Last night offering writing prompts and instruction to a friend in another department, feeling a bit not so much hypocritical but flawed, or not aligned with what I was assigning, if that’s clear.

Committing self to a standalone piece before leaving for SRafael.  About what… about opening a shop, of some kind.  A stationary story.  Don’t want it to be about wine, I know that’s what everyone expects.  So I want to do something different.  Maybe a fishing shop…. Fishing equipment, like the stores my Uncle Stevie used to take me to in Summer, fishing north of Sisters, Oregon, or in Sunriver, or along whatever river that was where we took the guided tour, escorted by a guy who wrote a book about fishing, fly fishing I want to say.  I’ve never lost that visual, and remembering the boat ride down that river, stopping at certain banks and casting into the moving water.   The singular piece has to be about something like that, I feel.  Something where someone does something that does something for other people…. Like a teacher, or a fitness coach, or instructor.

Love this part of the morning, in the office, and when the morning is shaped this way, with little sound and little intrusion.  Ransacking my thoughts for anything that can be in the story…. Me teaching, that one semester where I taught seven classes across I want to say four campuses.  Of course, I know now, no way to live.  But I have done it.  That was in ’07, twelve years ago.  Like more than eternity, a endless galaxy and time, solar system of time.  Latte waking me, think my solitude is about to die, as my friend approaches bullpen.  No… someone else passing.  I’m in a condensed and confined area, here, and can’t see who passes.  All the more reason for me to be out, as I wrote yesterday.  Need a vehicle switch, I just remembered, so I can charge my phone but also listen to something other than what’s on the radio.

Now I think the story should be about wine, a wine shop that also stands as a tasting room.  One that locals flock to on weekends and make it a point to visit during the week, to make the week more tolerable.  You know what I mean.  The story is dialogue-supported and commanded, like a script.  But not.  Character has tasting room/shop in downtown Windsor.  The first year was a struggle but now in year two the matters are different.  There’s talk, there’s magnetism, there’s a place where people depend on what the place provides aside from the obvious wines and their taste patterns and easing effects.  He refuses to be a business manqué, the same way I will not let myself be that type of penner.

8/7/19

Not a matter of correcting,

but designing. And if you’ve stayed or parted from the design, you put yourself back in it. Don’t scold yourself. At all, much less excessively. Go back to your sight and self-promise, actuating your fire and story. Collect, breathe, calm. There’s another scene soon to start.