Happy Sad.
It’s not a great feat to conjure happy writing or happy experiences
Mostly everyone is completely able bodied to do so.
Writing dark just gathers attention and is so much easier to write due to relativity.
When something feels good. It blends in with mundanity. When something hurts. It stands out.
Attention seeking is vulgar. Vacuous is one who engages in such activities.
Therefore I will write a happy poem...
I’m about to eat a steak.
In a cabin that was built in the 20s.
It had the first flushing toilet in sublet county.
I climbed today, nothing difficult. But it was very enjoyable above Fremont lake.
Now, sitting here on this ancient deck. In utter silence besides the Birds. I don’t feel accomplished. I feel comfortable. I can’t and don’t have anything to prove.
It’s only been an adventure. Starting out with rolling my friends Jeep. And then not telling his father. But rolling it back over with a sketchy high lift jack setup as a winch.
I can’t really see any point in holding onto grudges. But honestly I know they’ll come back as soon as I get back to civilization. That disgusts me about myself. I enjoy the bliss of being without malice, however I do not avoid it beholding me again even after self reflection.
How pitiful.