Ugh, last night's entry is now perversely and doublely true, like a twisted mirror-universe version of yesterday. What a weekend! I mean that in almost every sense of the word.

So, to celebrate, I give you the lyrics off a great jazz song by Everything But The Girl from their way-rad early jazz era. The song is called "Goodbye Sunday." If you can, you should download it, because there just aren't enough delicate jazz songs about the last hours of the weekend.

Goodbye Sunday (Thorn/Watt)

Slowly runs the lazy river /
and in it I pitched all my dreams, /
and all the things I ever wanted, /
and watched them eddy slowly downstream./

For I have learned that such things fade, /
like photographs and family holidays, /
and every Monday Is goodbye Sunday./

I guess you'd like me to throw away /
that box of diaries and old letters, /
for they do nothing but feed my memories, /
but really you should know me better. /
For I am too fond of the past,/
but I think I am learning at last /
that every Monday is goodbye Sunday./

Yes it's true that I cling to things that I should leave behind,/
as if those were golden days. /
well I just hope that you really don't mind./

For I am too fond of the past, /
but look I'm happy at last, /

and every Monday is goodbye Sunday./