Wake earlier. Run more.

Aims with which I’m starting day, before meeting at 9 here in Rohnert Park.  Never written at this shop before.  No significance to it, just noting.

Also, write more.  Could if I didn’t wake so close to 7.  This exchange has thrown off my clock in a blizzard of forms.  Trying to right self, be more in balance.  Like Dad suggested… write in shorter form.

Fragments.  Notes.  Spun jots.

Move quicker.  Think I’ll go to 24hour Fitness here in RP like I planned to last night, but then reasoned to run from Mountain Hawk base, and didn’t do that even.

More discipline.

More strength.

More fearlessness.

More forgiveness of SELF.

More love, sight, knowledge, humility, ZEN, acknowledgment of the Now… why you’re there and what you can do with it.  With yourself in IT.


Love the opposition, and rather than see it as opposition, love its invitation.

Lastly…. HONESTY.  And no reluctance in telling truth.  Even if it slightly or significantly harms you.  There will be elevation and a distinct climb rhythm that follows.



9:16, and writing on the floor, poised for bed.  Early tomorrow with leads group.  Hopefully a run at some point tomorrow.  When… not thinking about that now.  Ideas for a blog, then another, then a book, then wellness, then self-improvement something or…. Dad’s stories, about the flight where everything that could go wrong did.  He argues it’s not writing but a report and that if he had to expand upon all the points it’d be over ten pages then me responding why not.  More and more I appreciate the cruel curtness of life.

Watching news, weather changing… Spring coming, maybe, not sure but the news says so.  What will the impact be on me, my re-write, my sight, everything in this story.  Event tonight with people speaking of me as some noted speaker, and I tell them NO (kindly)… I’m a writer. I speak like everyone does, or can, but I write. Was humbled, and gave an intro about the speakers group, then had tacos and only one beer. I say ‘only’ as you might think this beatnik would have two, or follow the first with a glass of whatever that dive pours.  NO…. calm and balance, ZEN in the re-write.

Further into my zen studies, practice and acknowledgement of character consolidation, temperament, time, collection, composition… like now, with me on floor, back against bed, news on only for that “white noise” effect. I’ll be honest, not looking forward to waking as early as I have to with this leads group, but I will.  Re-write, of everything.  No need for permission, no need for any angst or anger, pessimism or edgy post.

This re-write of self isn’t to appease anyone, not even self, or apologize for anything, but to lift stages of Self, and understand the character and narrative note with more namesake and communicative property.

A thousand words to start day.  Sipping latte listening to the fans go.  Wife and babies at the race, and me about to get ready.  Having a $300 project as a quick focus and draw-up of character.  No expenses foreseen, that require cash anyway.  Want the CC paid off by year’s end. Nearly there.

Blogging… everything.  Need to get out and blog more about what people are doing, and me a working daddy, one with you could say 3 ACTUAL jobs.  And I say ACTUAL that way as each is obligated, lasting a certain significant stretch of time, and pays decently.  How to get this to stream currency, though… Don’t worry about.  Like I said the other night at dinner with Thomas, “When you focus on metrics you endanger the metrics you’re after.”

Shit!  Just remembered I still have to write that article for that lady, the one who specializes in Wellness and Happiness…  I’ll start with the Tolstoy quote.  Can’t remember the exact word placement, but essentially “If you want to be happy, be.” Actually I think that’s precisely what it is.  Anyway, somehow have to find time to do that.

Monday, tomorrow… going to absolutely BLITZ it.  Be in San Rafael by 10, canvassing.  Walk around for a couple hours, then back to office for a run.  Also this week, no Starbucks.  And, no eating out.  I cringe thinking of all the money I’d save if I just stopped.  Not counting last night, taking family to Union Hotel, the babies so happy with their little breadsticks and pizza, Jackie asking for a bit of my pasta, my sipping some of my sister’s Chardonnay.

Time… just passing me, but I’m catching what I can when I can.  8:53… shit.  How did that happen.  When do I have to leave…. OH SHIT, I have to be there by TEN, not 11.  Where is my sight, awareness.  Certainly not in a fucking tasting room.  But here I go…. To write the day, and start on tomorrow all day today, on the tasting room’s fucking dime.

Have to write a short bio, for tomorrow’s introduction… introducing me before I give my Sonic lecture.

Then I just get an email from the chapter president that the meeting’s cancelled.  Good… well, not GOOD, but I’m not saddened by it.  More of a morning, for me.  What to do…..  go somewhere and write.  Maybe Peet’s.

Alone in bullpen.  Just finished this long, somewhat silly but then unexpectedly useful online class for leads group.  Could use a walk.

My novel could use some of its daily attention.

Run tomorrow, and the next day.

Only five miles tomorrow, then EIGHT on Friday.  No excuses.

Oh shit.. forgot I need to write that bio.  Do it later.  No, NOW….

Mike Madigan

Born in Santa Cruz, raised in San Carlos.

B.A. in English with a Creative Writing emphasis, M.A. in English with Literary Theory and Philosophy emphasis.

Mike lives in Santa Rosa with his wife and two kids, Jack (7) and Emma (3).

There is no spare time, Mike maintains.  There is only time to create, learn, connect, and love.

Mike has been teaching at the college level for 13 years, and in the wine industry for the same amount of time.  He currently works at Sonic, consults and blogs/writes in the wine world/industry, lectures two courses at SRJC and runs as much as he can.

A quote he lives by, “If you have no critics you’ll likely have no success.” (Malcom X)

His reason for being at Sonic, to build business from creative education, genuine connectedness, and love for community and customer care.

How’s that?  Will pay attention to novel tonight, as much as I can.  4:51, should leave soon.  Want a glass of wine.  Just have the Rose under my desk.  Take it home…. Enjoy it.  Enjoy lots of it.  Not happy about these power outages, but I’ve always said “Go with the story, work with existing momentum, not against it.”

Office now so quiet. Everyone in the barnyard, my little neighborhood, gone.  Maybe I should stay a bit, get the day’s contribution to novel to 500 words.  Why not.


Capitola, CA.

Parking lot above the police station, suggested by a police officer just a second ago when I pulled up beside him, barely able to speak from the effects of the cold or whatever I have.

More than awake and ready to dominate and control this race. Will get coffee somewhere in Santa Cruz not Capitola when fine.

Will start walking down street and toward start in a bit. Right at 6….

Good thing I double checked. Was in wrong spot. I thought it started in Santa Cruz not Capitola. So here I am. Saw coffee spot driving in. Boardwalk in front of me, some rides, lights, those pointed rooftops you’d see at an amusement park.

5:59. Leaving car. Get bib, then walk around. Hope they have somewhere for my keys. Hope. Should have bought one of those belts, precisely for keeping your car key. Mom’s right as always, as she said the other day– I need be better prepped.

Just saw two women runner walk by.

Leaving car.

from a journal


Friday.  But you know my opinion and stance on Fridays.  So what.  It’s Friday yes and to some that’s something, but I don’t care.  I’m working tomorrow, and the next day, the day after that.  I’m a blogger, writer, writer before a blogger and always noting something, so days off are days of others, not me.

Resolving to not spend any more money, today.  Not one penny.  What about lunch.  I need something to eat at that time, always do.  So what do I do.  Use change.  Yes.  Get as many quarters as I can, that’s lunch.  The quarters don’t matter, today, this meaningless Friday.

At the coffee spot same as yester’, with a 4-shot latte and the back table all to self.  About 40 minutes to self before I have to get to office to be a professional.  Professional.  What.  I’m learning.  Educating myself closer to 40 I get, knowing that all I want is the world, every Road I can find, any wine I haven’t tried, and sip and scribble overlooking a street, a canyon with a river somewhere in Switzerland.  That’s my most vocal and mobile and noble of “goals”.

Every morning should be this, time with self.  Friday or whatday.

This morning…

This block, though… not going away.  Thought yesterday while on the corner of Lake and Funston, then started walking on Lake toward 12th, that I write a set of writing rules for self, not really anyone else of for some limp purpose of composing a ‘hot-to’ of writing’, but just for me and something I reference when feeling, well, like this.  This morning.

First, write where you are and what you’re doing.  Focus on singularity.  One thing, or person, word or scenic ingredient.

Then, write freely.  The only type of writing is freewriting.  Some might assert that all writing needs structure, and I simply respond with two motions—1, what is “structure”?  And 2, “What if it doesn’t, then what?”

I’m seeing more and more the more I attempt to have my writing be a certain way or present itself with certain attributes on page, the less it’s me.  Them ore insincere it is.  Not that I only want to relay what’s happening—the who, what, why, where, when, how and whatever else like a journalist or tech writer—but be fully present.  Like now, in the office.  I notice the mood shedding as I’m moving, doing what I want to be doing in my office, working, sharing observations and self-instruction that I’m convinced will, or could, help someone else.

One from other department walking into building, saying with congealed, slow-moving emphasis good morning, and then not saying anything.  Not many calls coming in, for that department.  Not much heard other than my typing.  Honestly the loudest thing on the floor at present.