Pardon My Melodrama

I've just a had really awful time of it the last 5 days and when I throw myself pity parties (and no ones invited! i cry alone) i tend to think of this poem by Dorothy Parker; it always speaks to me, except for the last line- I can't do love.

"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 gentlest 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.

Oh Ms. Parker- I do love you.

Prince- The Ballad of Dorothy Parker [mp3]
The Real Tuesday Weld- Dorothy Parker Blue [mp3]

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