I was going to run this on Wednesday morning.
It's not new, by any stretch of the imagination - I suspect that many a Café regular could sing along, phrase for phrase. Hell, I wouldn't be surprised if one or two of you were to have a plausible copy of that Ray Agyahan schmatte tucked away somewhere. But I thought we'd all bask for a little while in the moment, in those voices, in what was to come.
Well, it's not to come. I have no idea what there'll be from now on, but for the moment, my cares and troubles are very distinctly not gone.
I'm afraid that tonight I'm not thinking of clear skies or, God knows, gay times. I'm thinking of Samuel Beckett:
You must go on.
I can't go on.
I'll go on.
As usual, Judy's got it right: get ready.