Lucid optimism

I was thinking about an interview I read in Uni, probably when I was at UC, with Francis Bacon. It slipped under my skin. 'I am not a pessimist. My temperament is strangely optimistic. But I am lucid.'

This particular chapter is heavier than I would like. It isn't what I had intended for my summer vacation, that's for damn sure. But you can't change what you can't change.

I arrived with heavy reading. Yesterday, my best friend took the book on Sinti genocide away. 'Try this one instead. I've really come to like this guy.'  And so I did. And it is funny and lightly insightful, but not too taxing. Its a perfect combination of intellect and brain candy, sweet tea on the front porch. It is what I needed. There will be time enough get back to prepping for the Holocaust Memorial Day talk in January. Time enough to resume 'regularly scheduled programming.'

Last night, I stood in my uncle's garden in a copse of trees and sighed deeply as fireflies danced around me.  I mean, how can you not be optimistic when a lightening bug boops your nose?

Plus, he's so pretty. I mean, damn.