You Might As Well Live

In an era where melancholic feelings are essentially perceived as pathological I remind you that each era has its demons. In the 1950’s there were still gay men who willingly subjected themselves to electroshock therapy to rid themselves of their “pathology” even though the psychiatric profession could only deliver a 5% “cure” rate; and even those figures are extremely dubious.

In the mean time we have learned better. Perhaps we need to learn the difference between inconvenient, embarrassing, and socially stigmatizing, versus the pathological or we run the risk of making something sick that which is merely unfavorable in the context of our current zeitgeist.

During different eras there were different levels of tolerance for things like depression. Dorothy Parker sprang to prominence as a theatre critic and writer of depressive verse during the 1920’s for magazines like Vanity Fair and The New Yorker.

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.

(Dorothy Parker)

Clearly, in today’s world Mrs. Parker would have been diagnosed and treated and she would have been as dull and useless as a hooker at Church and Wellesley (See Gay Guide of Toronto).

In this spirit I offer the following depressive song, a song about regret, a song about loss, and a song about endings. Don’t listen to it if what you are is a Goodtime Charlie looking for an even higher upbeat thingy. This song will not blow up your skirt or knock down your pants. Consider yourself thoroughly warned.

Dust to Dust

And so a new day begins…and an old year ends.