The Sun Will Come Out Again
When I'm stuck with a day that's grey and lonely, I just stick out my chin and grin and sing the song Tomorrow, that joyous uplifting striking from the joyous uplifting musical Annie, based on a joyous uplifting comic strip nearly a little orphan girl who's so poor, she tin't even afford dots on her eyeballs.
And because things have been a flake grey and alone lately, I tried lifting my spirits with a showtune. I popped on my cherry curly Annie wig, grinned my cheesy Annie grin, and sang in my pluckiest Annie vox: "Ohhhhh the sun'll come up out tomorrow, bet your bottom dollar that tomorrowwwww, there'll be sunnnn!" It worked. It really worked. I started feeling happy and hopeful and healed once again … until I got to the second line, and the lyrics began mysteriously rewriting themselves: "But … what if there's sun tomorrow, and the 24-hour interval that comes afterward tomorrow … there is none?" The song was transforming right earlier my undotted Annie optics. By the time I got to the big rousing chorus, it had turned into a miserable cynical travesty: "Tomorrow'south tomorrow may be fraught with sorrow, it's only two days awayyyyyy".
Aileen Quinn in the film accommodation of Annie.
My favourite go-to uplifting song had let me down but luckily I had an emergency back-up in my Song Box: Carole King'southward Yous've Got A Friend – information technology e'er helps when I'm downwards and troubled and neeeeeeed some love and caaaaaare. So I chucked off my red curly Annie wig and plonked on my blonde curly Carole wig (I go along my Wig Tub right adjacent to my Song Box). I grabbed my guitar and sang: "You just calllll out my proper noun, and yous know wherever I am, I'll come up running, to see you agaaaaain". Yeahhhh, that'southward ameliorate … I was feeling chipper now, even throwing in some finger-picking James Taylor guitar-licks, chop-chop flipping to my long scraggly James Taylor wig. Just it started happening again. The lyrics began turning night and negative: "Wintertime, leap summertime or falllll, I'1000 not sure I can come up at allllll. Information technology's outside my 5k zone, but we can WhatsAaaaaapp".
All my joyous uplifting songs were betraying me. Johnny Nash'southward I Can See Clearly At present usually made me experience skilful, simply now information technology simply made me experience pitiful – Johnny passed away last week, it'southward not such a brilliant (bright) sunshiny twenty-four hours at all, information technology's a dark (night) overcast month with possible scattered showers. Justin Timberlake'south Can't End the Feeling! usually gets me smile, but now it merely made me wince – I don't desire sunshine in my pocket, JT, the sun is 15-million degrees, information technology would really burn down my nethers. Edith Piaf'due south No, I Take No Regrets unremarkably fills me with promise, but at present the vocal just came out as "Yessssss I regret everything! Yesssssss everything I regret! Every word! Every thought! And that craven-feta sausage-roll I recently boughhhhht!"
The original Petty Orphan Annie. Credit:
What's going on? Music is supposed to heal, music is supposed to condolement, but none of my songs were powerful enough to overcome the year 2020. Then I slammed shut my Song Box, locked upwardly my Wig Tub, sabbatum down and wrote a song of my own. Information technology's got no melody, it'due south got no chorus, it'south just a grunted cardinal howl from deep within the gut, only information technology actually seems to help: "F--- off will y'all, 20-Xx! Can't look til you've wenty-wenty! Oh please let me venty-venty! Our goodwill'south all spenty-spenty! To quite an extenty-xtenty! That virus you senty-senty! And Trump, our tormenty-menty! Financial descenty-scenty! Past many percenty-centy! Oh hear my lamenty-menty! F--- OFF WILL You, TWENTY-TWENTY!!!!" That'southward Poesy 1. There are 46 more than verses. It's my American Pie.
Danny Katz is a Melbourne humourist.
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Source: https://www.smh.com.au/lifestyle/life-and-relationships/will-the-sun-really-come-out-tomorrow-maybe-annie-lied-to-us-20201015-p565b3.html
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