The older I get and the more philosophy/literature/science I digest, the greater the urge to disconnect. Forget about the news, forget about history, forget about philosophy, forget about travel, forget about tech (for the most part). Throw out the macbooks and the TVs and my library. It's all brain-clutter. I could be growing flowers or napping in a hammock instead.

I'm increasingly less convinced that satisfaction is ultimately aided by any of it. Probably that stuff was a useful stepping-stone to where I am, but it seems so much less important than it used to. I'm starting to wonder how akin knowing and finding answers are to various manifestations of pointless, restless acquisitiveness.