I once wrote a theater piece in which one character said, “I have an imagination for disaster.” This means that the character is — oh, all right, I am — using defensive pessimism, go figure.

I have used this strategy my entire life. I am the one who insists that it WON’T necessarily be OK, that my friends are just telling themselves nice stories that they find comforting and don’t take into account the myriad less-than-optimum outcomes of their foolish choices. I’m not sure how I learned this. Paradoxically, having an imagination for disaster hasn’t meant I’m particularly gloomy or unhappy. Preparing for the different outcomes is a great way to structure your time.

What a relief! I haven’t been crazy all these years, the total strangers who accost me in public with, “Ah, c’mon, it can’t be that bad can it? SMILE!” are in fact mindless ninnies. There’s a kind of tyranny in their insistence that my mind can “change my reality,” when in fact I always have experienced their eternal optimism is a form of magical thinking and oppression. And anyway, why do they assume they know what’s going on in my life?

I see “don’t worry be happy ” as another example of American anti-intellectualism. Sartre and Schopenhauer, those European dudes, are just a downer, man; and who wants to be sad? Even though facing the truth about our specific lives, and our general fate as humans, would probably fire us up with motivation to make the world a better place, why not skip the middleman and just imagine it’s a better place? Keep it simple!

It’s the American tendency to find ways of wrapping up all the loose ends by the third act, finding redemption in 9/11, in running riot with the Second Amendment for the sake of the candlelight vigil that brings everyone closer together. “Everything happens for a reason.”

I hadn’t thought of Trump as practicing positive thinking, I just thought he was an idiot. But it’s worse than that: When faced with the choice between reality and fantasy (idiocy) he chooses fantasy because it feels good.

He’s a straight white male — he thinks feeling good is just his due, as is getting the prize. And you’ve got to admit, he’s right in that sense.

And I see that science is pessimistic. Facing the truth takes a big chunk of courage. But I don’t object when my friends say, “David, for chrissake lighten up.” And I can’t help noticing that they have a lot more fun. Is that shallow of me?

Thanks for an interesting read.