“The Philosophy of Camping”

Do I want to go camping or not? I have no idea. I have no idea whether or not I like camping. I always adamantly adored it as a youth with my dad hating it.

I was thinking about getting a tent. Unfortunately, anyway, I’ve never pitched one in my life. It seemed like diffusing a bomb.

There’s this girl I want to go with. She works at the Wings, Etc. in Rochester. She’s very friendly and shy, usually laughing at anything I say, and smiling really wide. I like that. I find that presence appealing and think it would be good for my blood pressure. I like her look as well.

I wanted to float down the Eel River, too, in Miami County, Indiana. I’m not sure why that’s important but the fact stands nonetheless.

I think of the reality of being there, at the campground, out in the middle of nowhere, with everyone being very restless. Personally, I’ve never been the restless type. For instance, at the cross country camping trip, after I’d graduated and I was there as an alumni, my coach made the remark that I “looked about the same as (I) always did,” just staring into the fire silently. I’d of course had some good times at the camping trips but can also turn to introversion, habitually. I think of glancing off into the northwest and having a girl look into my eyes. Nervousness would follow, surely. My chest would start heaving. I’m not sure what she’d be exhibiting but I’d be perceiving moral quandary, pollution, climate change and waning resources and housing, as a punishment for having kids. It was just another day as an arrogant casanova, you might say.

Post a Comment

Your email is kept private. Required fields are marked *