Crank Up The Cranky.

This cat has nothing to do with anything.

As I get older, I find myself scheming up new ways to continually extract myself from whatever public eye real estate I’ve managed to accumulate over the last few years. Maybe I think too highly of myself, and I wonder if anyone would reach out and say hello if they noticed I wasn’t around. I’m not saying that I’m an island, but as I soak in the complacency that I’ve slowly kneaded for myself, I realise that I’m happier with not being “seen” anymore. I’m not really fighting to plant a little flag in your mind. I’m putting a minimum on really giving a shit.

I’m much happier storming up in silence.

It’s strange that the self-anointed figurehead for a shitty little indie band would not want notoriety, but it’s nice working from home, going for a run, eating healthy food, petting the cat and playing video games. Maybe I think too highly about all the things I’ve accomplished, and I unjustifiably feel that I’ve called time on things, and that I’m comfortable with riding into the sunset with nothing left to do.

Maybe, to an extent, I’ve had quite enough of overthinking the complexities of people, their motives and their clear lack of empathy.  Maybe I’ve been working with social media way too long. Maybe I deserve to be left behind in the dust.

I’m 35 years old. I’ll probably be dead in 30 more, and I don’t want to waste time trying to be cool compared to just being honest. I want to learn to do things within my means and my way, even if it leaves me looking very much like someone in need of some Laverland Crunch.

I have to admit, I’ve never had Laverland Crunch before.

I don’t know if I’m just mellowing out, or if I’m an anachronism.

Time will tell.