Again But Time First

Again, with 4am, I lose a round. Alarm went off but with this sore throat and waking congested, with dry mouth needing water, I turned it off and went back to sheets and the dictatorial pillow so many have trouble saying no to. Thinking my greatest assault on the hour will be a book. For anyone wanting to wake at any new hour, one early for them, one so they can get something, advance in something, in some way.

Coffee here in breakroom nook at Sonic. Yesterday before leaving for campus I looked around my work area, and saw an aim from months ago, “300 Sonic Words” which was to be performed daily. Every day. With no fail. I think about that word amount and the morning, this morning where I didn’t follow through with my vision, and what I can do with what I have. Now, 8:27. 30 minutes to write, collect self, do something different with the day. Narrative mentioned again in last night’s class, and I thought of my own after three students read stories from their day or from their current occupation, or from a past happening out somewhere.

Coming to Sonic, I wanted to get out of the wine industry. That was my sole aim, really. I did and didn’t more do did NOT know what would evolve here. Here, this place that started as an idea from someone working IT at the JC, now a business growing faster than anyone expects, and more growth and pace and promise than anyone forecasted. Shows me that where we are, what we do can be made ours in unexpected ways. This morning, the point of this story o’ story, piece, whatever it is, I move past my loss, not waking then. I’m here now, I re-assure myself. I can do something with now, Now, the Now…. NOW. Right at this table with the free coffee. I laugh saying to myself “Oh my god how many coffees has Sonic bought me?” Humbled. IT’s more than renewing to be here, and not just ’cause I’m out of the tasting room, no longer setting up private tastings in the cave, or having to do infinite glass racks, dust bottles, or that horrible fucking act of inventory. I’m here, not there, but I’m here as a result and impetus product of being there.

Past three hundred words. Not caring. Not need to. The present isn’t meant to be quantified. I don’t think. Is it? Am I doing this wrong? Sip the coffee, the free coffee.. there’s some quantity. ZERO. Then, 300, words, for this place, being in this breakroom nook, to self before day lifts off and I’m headed to horizon. Forgot about 4am. Can try again tomorrow. And if I lose again, which isn’t losing, then I keep with advance’s be. And then I think, “Did I really lose, this morning?” If it has me moving faster and wanting to catch up or work past where I would have been had I self-lifted at 4, then no. Right? Do I have that right? Forward, forward… here at my place of create, to create, be me in this Sonic frenzy, do what the founder did.

Advancing in something, everything, in a multitude, a swarm, a colony of crazy ways and Roads, plays and knows. 4am’s first book, here. Now. Started.

3/14/19

(bottledaux.com)