I wrote a Prince post 7 months ago. It wasn’t ready for publishing. Some things happened that interrupted the posting of it. Private revelations. So, I put it on hold then, and it’s been waiting in my drafts for a certain album anniversary so I could post it. To post it now though would seem even more self-indulgent, and “Hey, look at me. I’m suffering.” than this one does. His family and friends are suffering. The rest of us are feeling the loss of an inspirational musician. We’re not feeling what those who were close to him are feeling. It’s really grotesque to assume that we are. Anyway, I’m not writing great literature on this blog, so I’m obviously not mourning the loss of a ridiculous blog post. But it was an earnest one: extremely rare for me. Prince was an incredibly large influence in my life when I was young, and when I was not so young. His loss cannot and should not be minimized because he was beautiful and deliciously controversial. He was a genius: full stop. Sure, I lusted after him. I was young enough that I wasn’t even quite sure what to do with all of that. I thought Prince was unbearably hot. Like everyone else. Because he was. And then there was his music. The music that he created with so little input from others that to have the chance to work with him in even the most limited-capacity (which, let’s face it, a limited capacity was the only real option with all that he brought to the table) must have been awe-inspiring. Prince’s music checks off every single box. [Ed. Note: Yes, she knows.] So, yesterday was the day for me that Michael Jackson fans experienced when they heard about Jackson’s death. That’s how I felt upon hearing that Prince had died. And, I mean no disrespect. Michael Jackson was certainly ridiculously influential. But I felt a personal loss when Prince died. Michael Jackson was my crush. Prince was my lover.
So yesterday sucked. It started out badly. I had two interactions with “All Good” guy at work before I had a chance to enter a caffeinated state. Trust me, that’s intolerable. There was a third “All Good” assault, and after I successfully negotiated my departure from that, I learned that Prince had died. After that, my perspective shifted. If I’d seen “All Good” guy after that, I doubt I’d have even registered his presence.
The good news? This is how I ended my day.
My kid is in the front row on the far left.
And this is how they sounded.
So, “All good” guy? Go ahead and say it. “IT’S ALL GOOD!” Yes, people. He speaks in all caps. Trust. And while I can’t agree that it’s all good, I can agree that honoring and celebrating His Purple Majesty is better than getting lost in gratuitous grieving.