On being a lone wolf ‘jazz monk’

I am a hermit crab, beavering away in my burrow. A solitary squirrel sequestered with my plans and lonesome longings in a mystical, maniacal, animal monologue of mixed metaphor. I get quite few joke names, which include things monk and hermit related. Beset with the guilt, the grandeur, the hauteur - that I ought not to…