JC wanted a picture of where I go to unwind.
And this is exceptionally boring.
But this is it.
When my head is too busy, or I’ve had a bad day, or I’m just plain tired and need to recharge, what I want is solitude.
I’ve been like this as long as I can remember.
It’s not anti-social.
At least, not actively so.
It’s just a reflection of how hideously socially inept I can be.
Its allowing my brain to not worry about what I’m saying to whom and what they might be thinking and whether or not they’re alright or if someone’s offended or maybe I’m saying the wrong thing or being not funny enough or insufficiently good company or maybe I’m doing that thing I do where I like someone’s company and so make deeply offensive comments to them, like calling their granny a cunt, or suggesting they’re into animal porn or something.
That’s always awkward.
Even at work I find sitting in the cab with someone for a full shift a real challenge, even if that person is a good a friend as Pally, or EvilOnTheInside, or BTD. You could be my best friend in the world and I’d still, after some time, need to escape from you and hide out on my own for a bit.
So this is where I do it. With a coffee and a guitar and a games console.
And sometimes the outside world intrudes, like last night when I heard a shout and leaned out the window to see a guy kicking a woman in the head on the pavement. I’m a responsible sort of guy, so I made sure I had a good description of him as he legged it up the street. I passed that description to the police officers on scene and then one of them came up and took a statement, sitting in my living room, during my time when I’m trying to be alone.
Rude intrusion, rude as broken glass in jam or shell in your omelette or an open sharps bin in your underwear drawer.