002 - Confession: I’m Bad at Stillness

Previously on Shapeshyfter

Last we spoke you found me standing on a ledge. Not the dramatic gargoyle kind although similar, sure. The psychological, metaphor kind. Squinting into a fog thick enough to hide the truth. Thousands of clones, marching in formation. Same work. Same styles. Same opinions. A.I move in as individuality slowly bleeds away…

Watched old Bourdain episodes the other night. That man had a gift for walking into a room like he’d been expected for centuries.

2021, step by step I remember descending down the throat, past dark, concrete lined walls into the cold beast - Eroii Revolutiei metro station, Bucharest Romania.

Three chest-high gypsy girls - no older than prime Miley Cyrus swarmed me like giddy professionals. Grubby-lil fingers, quick as sparrows. Three of em … rifled through my pockets finding nothing but lint, loose change, and Starbursts.

like any bright-eyed tourist, I held my wallet, passport, and phone above their highly conditioned ponytails like a taunting black piñata waving the white flag - have at it.

We laughed.

They found nothing of value.

A fair metaphor for Twitter content these days.

Fellow Shapeshyfter

I'm a explorer. Not in the sponsored-khaki, drone footage way. I drift. Curious. Transient. Impermanent. Non-committal. Almost exclusively, this is how I see the world - always - just passing through.

I sit at strange bars and promise fellow inebriated old men I’ll return. I play in the world’s sandbox until some know-it-all suggests I sign a lease.

For years I saw myself as vapor smoke. Now ... trying to build something of value … turns out that requires a skill I suck at … stillness.

No one warned me solopreneurship is a mirror with a ring light. It reflects every blemish in high-def including my delusions and half-finished everything. 2025 I began assembling my life’s work in a non-ergonomic chair with Elmer’s glue and popsicle sticks. One good huff and the whole thing could’ve have blown toward Nevada.

I live in North Carolina. Flanked by kind folks all around. Slower cadence. The sort of place where you can talk to any good-ole boy one moment and a struggle rapper the next. If you can't strike up a conversation here, I suggest a hot toddy. Something to loosen the tongue.

Through the act of southern living, I've come to understand home. The Bay Area. That particular Northern California voltage coursing through ambitious veins. Adventure hums everywhere from the mountains, beaches, to passion ran craft coffee dens. Curiosity is civic duty. California partially explains why I move, why I build the way I build.

This letter is part penance. Part present tense.

Forty-five years on this blue pearl had me smiling and horrifying in equal measure. I documented too little. There were so many whatta weekend moments that deserved ink.

I'm late but I'm writing now.

I'm a futurist. INFP. I help brands prepare for a radical shift brought to you by A.I. I share a personality type with Tolkien, which explains why I prioritize world-building over invoicing.

The machines are my daily. They came loud and hot. I consult my digital ole pals like trusted advisors. We get along famously so far, but I know what's on the horizon.

When machines make everything abundant, clone-life becomes worthless. Ray Charles can see the handwriting on the wall. The clone economy will collapse under its own efficiency.

If you built a brand out of free lead magnets. Or, worse you hired a Twitter brand agency, unfortunately A.I’s reckoning may feel personal.

There’s hope.

Vegetation always punches through scorched earth eventually. First a weed. A dandelion. A daisy.

Creatives building the new world will create. Those allergic to conformity.

My view of the future is simple -> Humans. Machines. Brand. Culture. Dwelling together not as enemies. Symbiotes (Venom reference).

The rare will thrive. The distinct will compound. The clones? They’ll retrain. Plumbing is noble work.

Ah. Now we arrive at the fun part. I've been on pins n needles...

I wonder, wander ... I hunt the rarest humans left. Proper Shapeshyfters worthy of the distinction ... unlike myself. Creators building the future of work and lifestyle. Sovereign realities beyond their core function.

In the world of watchmaking, I name the best of the best … Denis Flageollet.

Three cheers for Denis

Hip Hip
.
..
..

Look at him, grease stained, soaked in his own sweat-chowder.

Multi-hyphenate blacksmith. Scientist. Engineer. Explorer. Fondue connoisseur🤢🤢.

We share mutual appreciation: Cosmic obsession. Mark my words - one day I will leave this atmosphere.

His brand, De Bethune, makes watches that look less like wrist candy and more like artifacts smuggled out of era Jean Luc Picard. I love his Avant-garde, authentic brand.

His work lives outside the walls of tradition. Severed from Loro Piana wearing ghosts clinging to hundred year old heritage.

Seventy thousand big ones buys you a Starry Varius customized to the night sky of your fancy. How-bout-that ... wearing the cosmos on your wrist to happy hour.

I'm drawn to Denis as a maker because his life and work align congruently. Seamlessly. Zero costume changes before office, work and soul.

What is Shapeshyfter?

You made it though our first official letter. Hopefully our tour around these freshly painted grounds shows Shapeshyfters for who they are?

Multi-hyphenate creatives driven by infinite appetites.

Shapeshfters transcends self without abandoning who we are. Without falling on the sword of conformity.

I hope you enjoy my soul-driven. Character-first body of work.

A.I will change things, Shapeshyfters don't panic.

We’ll shuffle the deck. Play a better hand. Catch you in issue 003.

- Shape

📌 I'm a one man band on a mission to create soul-fulfilling meaningful work.

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📌 I do brand strategy mostly for tech, fashion and lifestyle brands. I might be available for hire. Email me: [email protected]