Tuesday August 26, 2008
I’m going through a peculiar phase. Happy as the day is long when, perhaps, I should be miserable. Try as I may, though, I’m happy.
Being miserable can be more productive, certainly more eventful. It was once suggested to me that, to write poetry, one needs some discomfort in one’s life, perhaps tending towards misery. Yes, well, perhaps.
For the moment, I’ll settle for happy. Nothing wrong with happy. When nothing happens, it pays to be happy the live-long day.
