Fall is here, and I'm far from down at the mouth about it. I, unlike many others find that the dying days of summer and approaching of winter is my most vibrant time of the year. While others are knocking up their daily dosage of Prozac, fall seems to bring an absolute calm to me. Maybe it means I should go live in Portland. When I tried to explain my "spring blues" to my psychiatrist this year he gave me a quizzical look, and said "I should write a paper on you." I love that. Someday I'll grow up to be a lab rat.
A friend just called and said he'd procured a book for me at a Salvation Army in Gastonia, North Carolina. It's "Might As Well Live" about Dorothy Parker. I've been meaning to buy the book forever. Thank you Clay! Thank You Gastonia Goodwill!
In tribute to my favorite time of the year, and my favorite melancholy mistress of dark prose, I give you this poem. Smile when you read it, it makes life look much brighter.
Resume
Razors pain you;
Rivers are damp;
Acids stain you;
And drugs cause cramp.
Guns aren't lawful;
Nooses give;
Gas smells awful;
You might as well live.
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