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.

PIIE

Poetry.  In. Is.  Everything.  Wrote a piece while standing in line at the Starbucks down the street. What I bring here with me.  Last night in class talking about destiny and future, what we will be, how we get there… and blocks to getting that.  We are the blocks, often.  Or rather, we allow the stalls and falls, the walls that we see and have ourselves sold are there.

No run today.  Want to make sure right foot is okay.  Hurt a little on run yesterday, but not obtusely or loudly to the point where I had to stop.  The heat stopped me, obviously.  Can’t think of what to put to page, or what to do with this day.  Feel self getting a bit sluggish and deflated from the day-to-day.  Not complacent or numb, anesthetized in action, but wondering how to change pattern and habit, here.  What…. POETRY.  In every bloody thing I see.  Thinking of that Plath interview I played for the 1A section, and myself I don’t know how many times, where she said that someone can write about anything with an informed and I think she said free mind.  I know what she meant, or I think I do.  And my former student Amber, now posting so much about Plath, I’ brought back to origins, initial intentions with my writing life.

Look left, she’s on my shelf, with other literary beacons, instructors.  I’m looking to them as to what to do, next.  How do I approach today differently than others.  HST would say, Just get out there and take a ride, you already got the ticket kid…” Something like that.  I can believably hear his voice saying those words, same voice as in one of his interviews.

Wrote quick piece.  Haiku.  Student messaging me if she has to type her reaction or write extensively in journal.  Have to grade that stack as well, the 1B section.  Power may go out again today, I’m honestly hoping class is NOT cancelled.  Want to write a lecture for today, speak it….  POETRY.  In everything.

Goddamnit, get up earlier.  If could have two hours of writing before the day even starts…..  Do.  Not more thinking.  Poetry is about thought, NOT.  Poetry is about reacting to your immediate scene and sight.  Where you are, what you’re perpetuating, actuating.  Don’t see myself getting knackered by such a practice, with all I want to do and how I move and how I assume all projects and beats.

Deke myself out of pattern, usual steps and jigs.  First no more caviling.  Step, celebrate, speak, make a verse of each sitting and step.  Think of the reciting at North Light Books, or in Berkeley when in graduate school… quitting prose, and if I do play the paragraph parade it’ll only be free entry, nothing of stoic structure or stance.

Mood gripping me but I’m parrying its kicks.  Like Dad said, “At my age, I can’t afford mistakes.” I, yes younger, put self in same mind.  The same thinking and philosophy.  A kamikaze is ME.

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.