Back from Novato meeting.  New accrued knowledge on fiber install and voice offerings for prospective clients.  Hour and forty minutes left in fast.  When back from run, I’ll eat something.  Thinking one of the sub-par sandwiches from one of the refrigerators, this building’s or the other.  Or maybe I shouldn’t run today.  Take the day off.  Think Bill, the COO, also a radicalized runner, does on Wednesdays.  If I do, I could do back-to-back 7’s Thursday and Friday, which would put me at 27 for the week.  I think.  OR…. Do 5k today, then 7 and 7, then I’d be at 30 for the week.  Like that better.  I don’t know.  I’m going to go out, but not even close to an hour’s worth.

Decided I’m to stay late tomorrow, and come in for 2 or 3, maybe 4 hours on Saturday, after my visit to Aperture Cellars.  The workload isn’t excessive, I merely need to schedule every hour, all days.  Use Sonic Calendar for everything.

Thinking some water is needed.  No more caffeine.  Cut back on caffeine.  MY GOD, I have too much of it in my system.  Natural energy and beat, not something coaxed by the product of beans, some somehow-justified chemical. 

Seeing, the only thing I should be doing at this desk, is generating revenue and prospecting new business.  Expect my entries from desk to be shorter, curt even, seemingly less interested though the fervor and fire still is very much intact and kept.

100 Days Second Pass


Day 2 of 100 Days’ Second Pass.  Latte to start day.  Going down to Bel Marin today, later.  Need to reserve car.  Will do in a minute.  More intensity in connectedness, like yesterday and all days before.  Tend to list I wrote up toward end of yesterday’s meeting, with this new project.  On the Road, before Day 100.  Lecturing and speaking wherever I can….  No more promissory writing like this.  Where I am and what I’m doing—Sonc office arranging leads on desk, looking for new names to put in Collective Conversation.  Not saying “funnel”.  Not ‘cause I don’t like the word, I merely see my phrasing as more applicable and appropriate.

This new project, as well fixating on productivity itself.  How I do what I do when I do.  No class today, so that’s lost production.  Or is it.  Only if I allow.  8:17 now, and a whole day to advance in the project.  Not asking for permission, not waiting for any allowance or grant.  Just going.  What we should all do.  I slow my typing speed, where I am at this desk, seeing the latte out of eye’s corner and thinking I’ll be sad when I finish it.  Why.  Some hesitation and pause, lull with it for me, like it’s a lover or lifeline or both right now. 

The latte helps me not think a thing, just to write my hour and current steps and breaths in this office.  Inputting names into the ColleCon, what I’m now calling the Collective Conversation not to be cute or witty or fashionable in combining names as they do with celebrities when they date, but to make it more my own.  And I’m finding that AE life, or any position here at Sonic really, is about wholly owning your own onus.

Distracted by one of my favorite partners here, coming over to see if I saw the batteries he left on my desk for my mouse, the mouse he gifted me.  I thanked him and he as always responds that he has his moments, I respond that he has many and I appreciate them all.  This office and the atmosphere, this is all I ought talk about with prospects, so why do I still overthink prospecting, talking to business owners and decision makers.  No logical warrant, all in my head.

Mouse working now, the one K gave me, and I’m back at the desk typing.  First thing after this, put names in ColleCon.  May even call it CC, to have it be easier and more proprietary.  A business to look up, there’s another, there’s almost too much and not in a negative note and know.  There’s more story ahead of me than I estimated.  AE life is all about Onus, seeing what you see then acquiring through production and narration, self-study.

8:43, relaxing, enjoying what’s left of the latte.  More than I thought.  Why did I see the cup so depleted?  Obvious insight into psychology, psychology I should shift of course.  Was over in other building to get a battery and now I notice I should have got a key, for car I’m going to use today for drive to BMK.  Should probably start prepping for that meeting, another obvious trot.  So…. Shifting motion and focus, frame and form.

Seeing that all of us are AEs.  All, each one of us, our own executive, and each aim, sight, possibility is an already-tenable account.  Thinking is the barrier, just as much as it might be necessary for projects and for colossal movement toward your There.  Create, don’t excessively deliberate.  Don’t stall yourself in circular consideration and evaluation.  As with prospects, enjoy the moment, the creation and conversation.

… through love of wine, the vineyards, walking in vineyards as I do.  I opened the blend, red blend, from Inspiration last night when home from Mom and Dad’s, and she forwarded in random beats, spoke with curiosity and certainty, helixed in amorous shape and tone. I know I’m home on this page, with her, I knew I was last night.  The red fruit syllables sang in tandem with terrestrial chords and peppered curvature.  Again music, again poetic.  What is was was time and me in that time, right there with her.  That’s all I knew, know. That’s all there need be.  When wine is overthought it’s forgotten.  You’re at that point not into the wine anymore but whatever thought stream you’re on for whatever reason…

Tonight Pinot was

seen and felt differently. There was more. I don’t know how else to say it. There wasn’t simplicity, but something like it. Honesty, approachability, something. It wasn’t Pinot, it was more. Not some fashionable name you just say to say it, telling people you drink it. There was love there tonight, at Mom and Dad’s. Love.

Hot outside, here in Brentwood. Thinking about my kids, Jack reading aloud to himself in the morning and Emma pretending to be a teacher like her mama. Me a father and 40, where I’m going and where I am, the whole way down here on my thoughts. Not looking forward to walking around in this heat, but I will. Plan laid for day. Just need to follow, follow through.

Write when back in office. Read book Mom got me for Father’s Day, tonight. Bed early, wake early, make coffee for morning…. stop saying and just set yourself in such scene.


Coffee, I mean latte.  Feel something with today, and that’s the decision to re-write ALL negative presence, sentiment, tell, pulse, anything in my story.  First sip confirming.  The book, my book, from wined thought and wined possibility, my eventual bottles, telling my story and having my babies and family help with everything from the wine itself to how it’s told, narrated, not sold.  Part of my message, as wine teaches me, is to be about dispelling naysay.  Or, re-writing it.  Using the existing momentum to reach what you see for self.  To be free, as I am with this write.  I’ve definitely assumed such an act and walk more so getting older, with writing and everything.  To just create, act and move.  Be free in flight and when on ground.  And those bringing that scowl and lowering tone to your standing, accept it and love it, wildly embrace it.  Then, you RE-WRITE IT.

Kids eating

breakfast, starting their Sunday with admirable intention and discussion.

Jack makes himself a checklist, writes a story on legal sheets.

Keep forgetting I’m at a winery, today. What does that mean?

Made self a list, after reading Jack’s.


Last hour about to start.  Have to write final essay/submission sheet.  Promised to have it ready for students last week, I believe.  And I felt stupid, quite stupid not having it ready last meeting.

Wrote assignment.  And now, 51 minutes remaining.  Love the feeling of having all my work done, but still get a bit antsy or shaky when I’m this, like this… too productive.  All wonderful, especially now with this new movement this month, the month I turn 40, of scribbling everything.  Or like now typing everything.  And this will not be a valetudinarian effort.  I can’t incur the results of such.  Placed, present, me.  Now and onward.  40.. fuck.  Can’t believe.  But it’s here.  This month.  28 days from this Mike Madigan you read now.

Need a glass of something.  SB.  Or a beer like Monday.  What… I can’t decide.  ‘Cause I think obsessively, excessively.

1492 words for day, before this sentence.  Columbus, explorer.  I feel like an explorer, to tell you truth.  Now I’m just getting silly in thought.  Sipping the cold coffee in cup on desk.  When did I make this cup.  So long ago I can’t remember.  Who cares.  Sip.  Helps to wake me. Feeling the run, still.

Think I may have one sip left.  Wine on brain, wine and where it is, is always to me and in my view… the rows. Those forming clusters.  In this last hour, I write wine and about wine, for and from wine.  What about it.  What else can I say about wine in this last hour, now 36 minutes, after writing essay assignment for my last teaching term for the foreseeable anything.  Don’t care.  Wine is there for me.  Wine is always there for me.  When I’m running, when I’m not.  She urges me to run—NO, tells me to so I can alive be longer, taste more of her geography and shapely ideology.