So, last night, it finally happened.
I popped. Having the past two days off have been horrifying and wonderful.
Andre and Leigh are two just amazing hosts/people/couple.
Anyways, I’ve been working this whole time. Haven’t really had time to sit and dwell on the situation.
Well that changed.
Monday night, we hit a bar that had a very homey feel.
Very, well, Molly’s.
So I sit at the bar, watching news footage of my beloved city, enjoying a Guinness.
Cue Tom Waits’ Tom Traubert’s Blues (Four Sheets to the Wind in Copenhagen) (clip), one of quite possibly the saddest songs. Ever.
And Tom Waits has a special place in my heart, as he holds a special place in the hearts of many more.
And that was it.
It can’t be a good sight to see a grown man, clutching his Guinness in one hand, and futilely trying to hold back the tears with the other.
It was simply a matter of time. It just finally struck home.
And let me tell you, my little chickens, this little monkey is ready to go back. To rebuild.
It’ll happen… Even if it means all of us have to live in Metairie (hell, I did already, but I haven’t gotten to see my house yet, we tried today) in order to rebuild the place.
I can do you one better.
Tues, watching Oprah, when Nate Berkus (her pet interior decorator) told a now-homeless man who refused to evacuate if he can’t take his dog that he will personally see to it that the dog is taken to Baton Rouge, and reunited with the man as soon as possible and the guy started weeping and hugging all over Nate, Joel got all teared up.
JOEL, ferchrissakes. Over OPRAH.
And i’ll also tell you, we were perfectly happy with our New Yorkness before this, and the very first thing we both suddenly felt when this happened was “We want to go HOME.”
Glad you’re safe, Will.