The cost of observation

hey! It's me again. David!
I'm coming here to confirm that everything I predicted about the change in season was right. I don't know if it triggers some form of lament and I impose some silly self destruction for that reason alone, but fall is always just batshit unpleasant. The difference this year is that I'm casually rolling with the punches. I don't feel overwhelmed but it certainly hasn't been the best year(month) of my life so far. The creative drive is back, and I'm always a little intrigued how the two uncannily correlate to each other.
I was reading a book yesterday
just kidding, it was a graphic novel. regardless I was reading a book yesterday.
It was quite enjoyable actually, I rarely find the time or patience to read text that isn't backlit. The book itself I wasn't actually big on. The art seemed dated, the kind of stuff you'd see framed in an equally dated and barren restaurant. Maybe even a mcdonalds. wasn't my thing. All of the text in the book was narrated from the perspective of a third party and being so, didn't warrant thought or dialogue bubbles, which was interesting.. but it was written pretty incredibly dryly. And intentionally dryly. y'know, so it's kinda charming?
anyway very little about the book actually engaged me until I noticed how well I could identify with the main character, who was a detached middle-aged bachelor, and succesful playwright. He was charmless and severly socially awkward. Deriving all of his inspiration from his own life observations and personal shortcomings. He was prolific, because he kept to himself, took notes on everything, and the few close relationships he held he squandered for his own personal gain; exploiting his brothers retardation in a (succesful)attempt to write and award-winning play. His mother and father hadn't spoken to him since, but to him it was worth the trouble because the playwright never wastes good material. ever.
And while the majority of the book was about his love/sex(or lack thereof) life and the interest in, the message was the same. It's about a distanced sexless creatively productive type, who later quits writing altogether in order to settle down and take part in the practice of life instead of the study. I don't know if it was intended, but the happy ending was depressing as hell. This dude was either in or of the world everyone else was living in, but had no option to do both

now I'll put this out on the table right now: I'm not middle aged. which means I don't claim to be in the cold and removed state of this character. But the fact remains that this old shithead was incredibly and comfortably relatable for me. Moreso than any youthful character in any other story. I've mentioned a lot before how I have a hard time switching gears from the loud social and thoughtlessly elated version of myself to the "work" version of myself. Whether it's going to my place of employment on a monday or just spending time alone for introspective reflection, or to work on a painting. The two are polar opposites, and they seem to clash when they get too close to each other. It only stands to reason that eventually one will overpower the other.

I'm not above the notion that this affliction is nothing more than a self-fulfilling prophecy. But the worry remains in the back of my head. I've never been creatively and socially active at the same time, so I stress that the conclusion is either or. With a personality like mine, the dichotomy isn't an accommodating one. Exploit your relationships, or embrace them. Live a happy and mediocre life , or a detached but revered one. blah blah or blah blah.

this is merely a stream of consciousness for now because I apparently have things to do today that aren't fixing drafts for myself to read. but it felt necessary to leave a reminder to draw a conclusion, eventually, before resigning myself to the fate of one or the other . I guarantee I take all advice with a dumptruck full of salt, but on this one if you can at all relate, you understand it's not as self imposed a dilemma as it sounds. drop me some hot cents if u got em