Let's lounge in our own morosity,
stew in the mire of our own disappointments,
every failure, revisited,
every heartbreaking memory uprooted and purged into our laps,
so that we might spend a few dreary hours gazing at its beautiful dysfunctional existence.
Remember what we used to say, pleasantly demented.
Let us sit here,
drink our whiskey
on the pleasantly demented history of all that has gone awry in our lives.
So we might be all the more grateful for all that has gone right.