Yes, when you smile the whole world smiles with you, but only because you have spinach in your teeth.

What kind of a hootenanny is this? Where are all the folk-singers? Where is that will to overcome which can only be coaxed out by incisive, spoken, political poignancy helped along by gentle acoustic strumming? What do we want? When do we want it? What do you mean any stew with my turkey leg? I thought people were dressed like that as a throwback to that strange psychic bridge between the 60s and Rennaissance times which so fueled our convictions and ignited our determination through tunics and the like. No, I don't want to watch them joust. Charles Reich clearly said "[The revolution] will not require violence to succeed, and it cannot be successfully resisted by violence. This is the revolution of the new generation." . . . Well, if what you say is true this is very aptly titled 'Medieval Times'

Sometimes in life you don't just leave these things to that magic hand of chance--you order extra sauce.

What business is it of theirs if in the inviolable, sacred precincts of my own home i decide to plot the violent overthrow of the management of that Bennigan's?

You've asked me and I'll tell you. My favorite thing to do on days like these--when the sky seems as big as it ever was and riding atop every breeze is the sweet certainty that everything's alright--is to slowly, deliberately fill my cheeks to capacity with air and then slowly, slowly release a stream of this air at the unsuspecting subway passenger next to me until no more remains.

"I heard there are more sheep than people in New Zealand."

"You're thinking of Wales"

"No, sheep."

"There's fish out there. When you've danced with the lady of the sea as much as I have you just know."

"Who's the lady of the sea?"

"See that moon hanging low in that sea of a sky?"

"That's the sun."

"Oh...you know what a white sun means?"

"No"

"The lady's taken her bride."

"She's a lesbian?"

"What did you call that cursed hooch you gave me? I must admit I am under its spell. Either that or everybody is actually trying to steal my food. What an enchanting elixir, it's as if that conviction of every great poet that the world is capable of sudden and complete changes has suddenly been realized exposing only the skeptics and those who demurr as the real drips. In the words of Wallace Stevens 'we purge ourselves in the meantime in what are intended to be saintly exercises.' Before I purge, I ask again dear boy what you call this heady brew."

"Zima, Captain"

"Hell, don't call me captain. I've learned as much from you this strange night as you from me. Call me Lloyd."

"Listen, it's pretty clear that this impulse of yours to always interject with platitudes issues from feelings of intellectual inferiority."

"Prick"

"It's just like someone who's combative to compensate for feeling vulnerable. By the way you do that too. But for now let's focus on your feelings about my advanced coursework."

"Just because you take a karate class at a community college, taught by a 75-year old white guy who insists you call him Master Knuckles, does not make you a doctoral candidate."

"Oh dear, this is more serious than I thought. I'm glad we didn't wait any longer; you're beginning to resent me for the discipline and internal order that Master Knuckles has drummed into me."

"He's brained you with his walker three times now. I get the feeling that he's not a karate expert of any sort, is given to easy agitation, and does not like your company."

"If it's easier for you, we can treat Master Knuckles as the sort of personification of all of the ruin of your life, your aversion to stretching, your angry neglect of the internal energy highways..."

"Will you please just climb down from there. I believe you."