Trying to figure out the mire that I climb from it occurs to me that laughter has been missing from my daily existence for the better part of the last five years. Oh, I chuckle but I don't laugh 'til milk runs out of my nose. Not often enough.
I remember once when I was about ten or eleven years old and sneaking around the house with my cousin Jimmy in Birmingham. I say "sneaking" because it was the middle of the night and we were supposed to be tucked away in bed. Sorta' our idea of juvenile delinquency. Bad wasn't too bad in the Eisenhower years.
I always wanted to be clever and I always wanted to be dirty. I suppose I still do. In a sophisticated play on words, I whispered to Jimmy, "Hey, Jimmy. Donald Fuck."
Jimmy's three months older than I am, you understand, so his level of sophistication is way up there. He stared blankly at me for just a moment and responded, "So what. Mickey Piss."
Well, apparently he had blurted the magic word. We both peed and laughed and laughed and peed for what seemed to be a very long time. Judging from the mess that we had to mop up in the dark from the kitchen floor it was a very long time.
Okay. I'm not sophisticated or clever or dirty. I've got my joy back, though. Anybody wanna spend the night?