No no no…stop head from going explodey!
Between my nine-to-five job and my inability to stop booking massive amounts of shows recently I’m pooped pop. For once I’m not all drained by late nights of liquor – as I’ve decided to dry out a bit over the next few weeks – and I actually have energy from hitting the gym regularly (I can’t believe, and never conceived that, I just typed that phrase) so my virtual tabla rasa is confounding to say the least.
I have the energy to write but there is virtually nothing going on upstairs…what’s up with that?
Okay, that’s not entirely true, I do have things on my mind but they haven’t quite worked their way through yet. I may be moving out of my apartment in the next couple months and that’s a bit of a mind-bender since I’ve lived there forever. Also, I’m slowly growing ever more domesticated and there are certain, let’s call them rebellious, urges that are fighting against this transformation even though I for the most part welcome a more relaxed lifestyle than I have pursued over the past thirteen or fourteen years. On top of this, a friend of mine just told me he’s expecting his first kid and that kind of threw my head into a spin and started me thinking about the adjustments I’ll have to make if a little tyke ever toddles into my life and the realization that while I’ll never don a fannypack I would be willing to make some major changes for a Tankboy Junior or Tankette.
Let’s just say there’s a remote possibility Tankboy is growing up a little more each day and I’m struggling to reconcile these changes with my more base nature that’s led me around for as long as I can remember.