It seems like the world’s going to shit because the US screams the loudest about their problems. Happy people don’t seem to feel the need to scream about how happy they are, so happiness registers as radio silence. Which means that the unhappy screaming is all that can be heard.
Well, I’ll scream happy for a while.
My girlfriend and I used to go to sketchy motels. Windowless rooms that always smelled of cigarette smoke sunk deep into the walls where the lemon Lysol couldn’t reach. The phone ringing, ringing. A vague thin grease on every hard surface.
Last night we got a beautiful little room with a view overlooking the city at its prettiest, at night when the squatter areas can’t be seen – only the lights of the tall buildings and the streams of yellow headlights and red tail lights flowing down the roads.
We could all be happy, if we weren’t so busy not being happy…