Boring habit convention – e.g. the degradation of job routine, the faithlessness of relying on others for salary, the narrow in-spiral of parochial that ends in anxious instinctual fascism – were an anathema. Part of the escape created I engendered through Avalon, it became clear in the mid/late 20s was the preference (as jobs and careers took their toll) for younger friends. Why? Worse than good old fashioned prudence, which seems to last a lifetime, it was motivated by something more practical, pragmatic and quid pro quo: refusing the degradation choice, turning instead to humans still vital and hopeful with somewhere to go. This wasn’t so calculated back in the day, but it’s clear with hindsight. The details are organic and, all in all, it’s good at 35.u

But at 45 there’s a stronger sense of time running out – not on being alive, it’s not about mortality – but on options that’re actually compelling in the world of 7 billion ditzy diversity. What I mean by options is not something I’d thought much about ten or twenty years ago. What I mean is, on the one hand there’s various flavours of splendid isolation (i.e. where other people don’t matter cuz there’s no interaction) and on the other, the plausible embrace by entities, groups, structures of the extant world.

If one wants to be IN the world of society one’s got to form the connections needed to get anywhere interesting involving other people. This was always taken fur granted and dismissed years ago. But the conventional world changes in how it reacts and what it offers, according to your age. Eventually this change, the strength of convention, gets so defining it can’t be redefined by one’s individual persona. Doors close to you as you get older.

I’m part of this finite time and the realisation about options narrowing changes other things. The now much younger vitality is too basic, too cul-de-sac, too far back along the line to give years to hauling out of the mire.

But we’re in the yangtime now. Conditions have changed. Just as important, any younger friends are now the age I was when we went through the unusual quid pro quo, when I benefited from the hopeful energy.

I’m antsy because of the sense of closing time and opportunity.

Those friends are mid-30s, going through their own rootless need for an injection of energy on the threshold of middle age, left unimpressed by the mainstream – as I was, no doubt.

At 45 I’m at best in the same boat; and this makes me little help. I’m over sensitive to devoting time to anything that doesn’t feel like a solution. I might be able to come up with a route to that solution, which could helps all, but there’s no guarantee of that WHATSOEVER. Thus, a doldrums that’s hard to solve. It’s not horrible but it isn’t wise and it’s extremely boring a lot of the time.

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