Chim Chim Cheree!

I cheered myself up last night swizzling champagne leftover from some party and listening to joy division. Depression, sales like doing your hair, viagra is easier when you are a kid. When I was little, all it took during that bleak half hour on a sunday visit to my father while he still slept, to send me careening into hysterical giggling, was playing the Beatles “Honey Pie” on his stereo. (go run-on sentence! go!) One is easier lifted from doldrums in grade school, too. After failing for the Nth time to tackle and smooch jason simonetti in the school yard, I could pocket my bus money and walk home, so i could get a greasy slice of pizza and a frozen coke when I got to Journal Square. You got these long straws with a scoop at the end. Fine, fine! Even with all that high school Weltschmerz, shoplifting would pick a girl right up!

Perhaps I ought to test against disappointment and spleen the power of chewing on a Fun-Dip stick and some Duran Duran.


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