An I-really-shouldn't-have-done-that-to-myself-last-night haiku

Late nights, smoky bars,
Shouting above the music.
Tom Waits huskiness.

I really should not have accepted yesterday's last-minute commission to do yet another recording gig this morning, in the wake of the predictably excessive indulgences of the Sichuan earthquake benefit party at my local bar, Room 101, last night.

I was very, very tired this morning. And my voice was very, very raspy.