Symptom Recital

[lostinin]

I was in the office bathroom today when I started reciting this in my head. Haven't read it in a while but glad to know I still knew all the lines.

I'm not a musical person (I'm probably tone-deaf, actually). So when I'm in a "mood" I don't get a strong urge to listen to particular songs as often as I think other people might. But sometimes an old chick poem comes creeping into my head....

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SYMPTOM RECITAL

I do not like my state of mind;
I'm bitter, querulous, unkind.
I hate my legs, I hate my hands,
I do not yearn for lovelier lands.
I dread the dawn's recurrent light;
I hate to go to bed at night.
I snoot at simple, earnest folk.
I cannot take the simplest joke.
I find no peace in paint or type.
My world is but a lot of tripe.
I'm disillusioned, empty-breasted.
For what I think, I'd be arrested.
I am not sick. I am not well.
My quondam dreams are shot to hell.
My soul is crushed, my spirit sore:
I do not like me any more.
I cavil, quarrel, grumble, grouse.
I ponder on the narrow house.
I shudder at the thought of men.
I'm due to fall in love again.

- Dorothy Parker (who else?)