Monday, May 5, 2014

Dream of Don Draper

If we're going to talk drunk, as we did yesterday, then let's talk Don Draper. And only because it's grown wearisome reading everyone elses' opinions without getting one's own two cents in; probably we should quit reading reviews. And predictions. Because we think it's pretty obvious what should happen to him.

We think all these people are a mess, or are on their way to being a mess -- from Don to little Gene. Including Sally, our Man Men age-twin. We don't have to guess what happened to them -- look at the '70s! THAT's what happened. Don job-hops until he dies of a heart attack or liver disease. Maybe lung cancer. He gets slack. Grey. Freddy Rumsen can't save him. His kids aren't talking to him. Megan (and perhaps others!) divorces him.  His life has been a house of cards -- and I don't think he has any desire to really fix it. That calls for a level of honesty of which he seems incapable.

We are usually optimists here at CathyBlogs, but we can't see any good ending for Don. He's a guy easy to be attracted too -- tall, dark, and handsome, successful, charming -- but who is he, when you start sleeping with him -- literally, or figuratively? He's poor little Dick Whitman. He tries to forget, but until he assimilates, he is what he is. A mess.

Anyway, on the topic of drunk poets -- and at his creative best, Don is a poet -- it seems we were rather late to that party (haha). We had no more tweeted about Sunday's post
than we were followed by @DrunkPoet and then visited Guess drunk poets are on the lookout for other drunk poets.

Psych 101 was our highest level of mental health training. In lieu of analysis, we chose poetry.

Dreaming of Don Draper

mannequin man
masked man
man in three acts,
are you hollow, man?
paper mache
melts in the rain
you seem so
alone man
if you stumble
and I catch you
will you break,
falling man?

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