This… this coffee.  Tired of it.  Going to treat self to the meanest, most caffeinated latte in the history of lattes.

Back from getting latte and only drive through access.  You can’t go inside and grab n go like before.  I ran into one of the baristas I know and she delivered this news to me.  Was looking forward to going inside for some reason.  I shared my thought that the drive-through only dimension doesn’t help with the panic.  The barista somewhat nodded and offered a micro-apology.

Back home now and kids are into everything.  Feel bad for them.  They have been playing outside as recent as yesterday, Jackie and I playing hoops and Emmie riding her big girl bike.

Poems.  Write more.  This time is more for verse than paragraph, I’m learning.  In the moment expression and reaction.

I don’t know if this is stir-crazy, or just nuts.

Coffee.  I need it.  Tired after run.  What do I do.  I’m losing it… then I have an idea.  Maybe I’m gaining it.

What’s IT.  No idea.  Maybe that’s what this ‘place in shelter’, sheltering in place will beget.  Finding more place and poise, personhood on page.

So I’ll be totally fine if I just stay home?  I don’t know, something about this is just…. Not the kind of movie I want to watch.  Not now.  Not today.

Oh my god, just get me some wine, PLEASE.

None of this makes any sense.

Good, neither does this entry. Maybe that’s what I’m to learn from this, to gather and incorporate into my work.  Don’t worry so much about sense, or making any.  Make whatever you want to. IF it’s what you want for yourself, there’s more than enough sense in that.

Stay Moving Stay Busy Stay STARVED

3/17/20, Tuesday – Hi.  I’m still alive.

And so are millions and billions of other people.  Not making light of anything, just my attitude.  I thought this morning driving here to the Sonic office about style, and about influence, how lately I’ve tried to be more Sedaris-esque, or Lawson-y, rather than completely Mike Madigan-ish.  In fact, no -ish.  Just all Mike Madigan.  Either way, here I am in the nook.  Have a call at 9am.  Just want to sell something.  I know people are slowing up, or down, but goddamnit I want to SELL.  I know this goes against everything I wrote and posted yesterday about going back to the drawing board.  Shit, still need to edit that restroom piece.  Where is it?

Found it.

Quiet.  Saw one employee walk in.  I should take the day off.  And quarantine.  There’s that word again.  Quarantine.  Maybe that is the right idea.  I could finish a whole flippin book.  Right?  Couldn’t I?  I mean, I think I could.  This new journal, not sure what’s so new about it. It’s another journal.  Maybe that’s what I should’ve titled the doc.

Didn’t hit ANY of my homework aims for last night, in terms of wine writing, or …. Anything.  Who cares, I tell myself.  This is a crazy and crucial time, just the right excuse I need to be dismissive or lazy, or not get certain things done.

That was a joke.  A bad one, but still with joke intentions.

I’m just sitting here, sending emails back and forth.  May email a prospect some numbers in a minute.  Two prospects, actually.  Then wait some more.  Yes, waiting… waiting for what.  Godot.

Just sent a quote to prospect, the one I was stressing over this morning.  Wished someone well, a good day and to stay healthy and safe.  I guess that’s what you do in these times. What times.  I don’t know, the times you’re told to do something like that.  I meant it, just noticed that everyone’s doing it.  Not going to say anything else.  Cuz then I’ll be that guy.  Vocal commenting clown.  So, I sip the latte.

Third estimate out, and it’s not even 10 o’clock as my Sales Engineer pointed out.  At least I’m being productive… why do I say that, I’m always producing, moving… need to give self more credit.  Not too much though, don’t want to be that guy either.

Everyone telling me there might be a “shelter-in-place” order for Sonoma County.  Trying not to cuss, but I so what to say that word right now.  Would feel so good.  PIG-LICKER!!!  That’s instead of.  Too lazy to look up Shakespearean insults graph.  This quarantine could offer an interesting opportunity in terms of writing, I’m seeing.  Think that might be selfish.  Is it though?  Look at what this thing has done to me, to us.  I could pretend I’m in some dystopian film, one that wouldn’t attract many ticket sales.  Or maybe this is a blockbuster.  I will write this… all of this.

Don’t want this new journal to be all COVID-coded.

this morning in journal

Going to start calling in a minute.. I swear.  Advertising and marketing offices in SF.  Go for bigger accounts, I tell myself. Learned my lesson from the small business visits, and even one account I landed but was a complete bother …. Or maybe it was my attitude.  Certainly my fault for not qualifying better, I get it.  I’m in the Enterprise Dept and that carries something, something I guess I need to know better.

9:07am.  Yes, getting a little anxious.  Just get on the phone and call as many people as you can.  Have one business queued… a marketing firm in SF.  A little hungry though, already.  Should I eat, go back home and work?  Yeah, we all know how that’ll turn out.  I’m thinking hit the co-working space.  This is what goes through the head of someone in sales and who writes, and when a national state of emergency is declared.  But is that an excuse?  Is this an entry or an essay?–  I’m a fucking mess.

Miss the students, believe it or not.  One of my students reading last week about her first car.. Can remember what she named it, but she named it, and told this story about every detail, and how she heated it but eventually missed the car—the smiley face hanging from the rearview smelling like old people she said.  And the color.  Want to hear them read more… want to hear myself read more.  My students are quite immediately and directly ordering me to finish shit.  Stop thinking, and just write.  Just get on the phone and call these people, these businesses.  That’s all I can do, right?


9:53.  Call in just over a half-hour.  Cold in the nook, here.  Getting hungry again.  The coffee I made at home suppressed hunger but not for long.  Now I’m genuinely uncomfortably cold.  More anxious..

Woke this morning stressed and in a mood.

You work through it.  Work bizarrely hard.  Don’t stop in reaching, in experimenting and trying new methods in approaching business.  Focusing A LOT on blogs today, and every day going forward.  Same way as Sales Engineers have their KPI’s, I set mine before me… 2 entries a day for bottledaux and #professormikey blogs, then one a piece for ‘u-sentence’ and ‘vinovinevin’.  Check budget and balances.  Cash on-hand….

I’m not letting this mood overtake or even talk to me.  Preparing a talk for tonight, for class…  Nothing to do with essays or essay writing, being a student or being in school… it’s a direct address of character composition and how to maintain it, make it a distinct.

Working at a Starbucks, which I hate, in Novato.  Town of Novato’s nice.  In fact I want to spend more time here connecting to community and more than just making connections.  I want to start my own echoes and visibility here in Novato, talk Sonic, walk around and introduce myself….  More speaking, more smiling, more introductions.

I HAVE TO wake earlier.  Now, it’s about dire, really.  Have coffee made night before, iced coffee.  Laptop out, journal page exposed.  Sorry, just a Monday, and Monday’s used to never get to me like this.  They used to not register at all.  So why do they now?  Is it my age?

Finally the music works.  Funny, or not so, some Starbucks have shitty wifi.  Either way, Coltrane and his notes in ears, and my mood fades.  I write faster, think with much more poise and personality.  And this gives me the thought of the coLAB, devoting more money to it.  Cancelling the gym, and yes even after going on Saturday and tallying 6.8 miles.  Huh, could I fit in a run today?  Not sure that would work, after promising Jackie I’d swing by his school in the afternoon, and take him to the bookfair.  “You promise?” He said, looking up at me like I determined whether his world continues or crumbles.  “I promise, buddy… I love you.” I said, tearing.  He made it specific, his targets… a book on gems, and a shark tooth(?).  Whatever he wants, that’s what I want him to have.  What is his interest in gems?  The other day on the patio, he played with this kit that had little rocks you dig into and find some mock-jewel.  “I’m a scientist.” He told me.  I smiled, playing catch with his little sister.

Everything I do today, with them in mind.  Sending prospecting emails, the meeting at 9:30 in BMK, then with the Architect in Berkeley…  Skimming through his website now, reading his blog, his story, seeing that I want THAT.  Just that.  Everything creative, from my thoughts, my mind and curiosities, from my children.  When they play, they just play.  There is no measure, there is no forethought, there is no obsession with results or feedback.  Movement, as I’ve stressed.

9:01.  Should head to car which is parked in back of this building, in a sec.  In Berkeley, after Architect initial, find somewhere to work, I’m now thinking.  Where.  OR, prospect… walk around, say hi, be VISIBLE, communicative.  No, find somewhere to follow up on prospects from last week, organize.  Ditch this backpack.  Tomorrow, when out leaving house… only phones and little journal I bought yesterday in Windsor.