How can I make the best of any
not-so-seemingly-wonderful-at-
the-time situation? I’ve been told
that more isn’t always better, like
more loud pessimism, and I do have
those educational degrees in theatre.
I concentrate on how to make such of
life’s unexpected trifles into something
much more more horribly exuberant
than, at the time, might even have been
unimaginable by myself, much less by
each of the uneasy participants (witness-
es does not seem the appropriate desc-
riptor in these cases, however unwitting
is something I am most certain comes up
later in their thoughts, as in if only I’d
just walked away earlier, etc.). Anyway,
a lot has happened since then. Like the
moment a tercet seemed better, seemed
somehow more appropriate than any other
means to a sordid end. These moments
happen. Like, all the time. For example,
at Yosemite last weekend (which, now,
I’m wondering exactly who played whom,
with regard to exuberance, that is): “[here
we have a] marshmeadowmountainforest.”
Well, not so horrible, that. But how about,
while driving in circles through the valley:
“Jesus rims” “penguins on the harbor” [so]
“plug in your drunken squirrel immediately!”
I’m not sure what I’m saying about being a
drama queen, much less feeling ugly and
over-the-top, but this actually happened.
What’s so horrible about hilarity? At
least at the expense of Jesus, penguins
who happen to be at the harbor, drunk
squirrels and drama queens? The dark
under-story is often that which was
one of the best times I’ve ever had.
So what?
