I love John Muir, I really do. He lived in an era when his privilege was completely obscure, even to him. And he felt just fine running around in the “wilderness” being inspired and pontificating semi-spiritually on all the “unspoiled” beauty. You go old white dude. Rage it, in your un-self-aware elitist way. Leave it to conflicted postmoderny young queers like me to feel all angsty about ‘cha.

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