When I get depressed, I sometimes do odd things to either A) make myself cry, or B) cheer myself up. This week I wrote a spiritual called "Rosemarie" then sang it into the camera and made a video of it. I posted it on YouTube, where people will no doubt critique it in a way that's sure to either A) make me cry, or B) cheer me up.

I present it to you with a little added context: My pet, whose name is actually Rosemary, is a tiny cute marsupial who likes to play in my closet. Sometimes she gets on the highest shelf, where I can't get her down. She gets very devoted, suddenly, to my sweaters. So I sing her a little song—a hymn, if you will—to induce her to come down and go into her pretty little homecage. This never works, but I keep trying. In fact, it seems to drive her further into the sleeve of a turtleneck. Everyone's a critic, you know?