Now I’m quietly waiting for the catastrophe of my personality to seem beautiful again

Now I'm quietly waiting for

the catastrophe of my personality 

to seem beautiful again,

and interesting, and modern.

The country is gray and 

brown and white in trees,

snows and skies of laughter

always diminishing, less funny

not just darker, not just gray.

It may be the coldest day of

the year, what does he think of 

that? I mean, what do I? And if I do,

perhaps I am myself again.

- Trecho do poema Mayakovsky de Frank O'Hara (In: Meditations in an Emergency)

don draper salvando meus dias. thanks, mad men.