Apr. 22nd, 2016

The Artist

Apr. 22nd, 2016 01:58 pm
brightflashes: (Messy)
I didn't actually listen to Prince all that much. However, many coming-of-age moments of my life have been influenced by his music. The FHS graduating class of 1999 (as many other graduating classes might also attest) received highly instructional information which set the scene for the year. It was raining the day of graduation. The sky was, indeed, purple, and it really did feel dreamlike (I was dreamin' when I wrote this). The whole bit of having a lion in my pocket was equally elusive to the uncertainty that comes with an end of one era before the next one has been planned. While we will not live long enough (we could all die any day) to truly experience different eras the way we have come to known them from World History, all lives, no matter how short lived, will include at least one era, if not, dozens. 

When the first of my friends got married at age 20, dancing with two of my most flamboyant friends at the time to "P. Control" etched out another unforgettable memory. There are other moments, too. Like when I realized that Raspberry Beret was written by Prince - I don't know who I thought did it before - and the idea that both words, "Raspberry" and "Beret" had silent consonants in them, well, I thought it might mean something (but I don't think it did). 

I feel a bizarre awakening akin to what our heroine Amelie  faces upon hearing that "Lady Di" died in the movie with the same name. It's not very often, I realize, that my external environment, as represented by the masses, matches my internal one. It would usually be in my head that everything would be drenched in purple, yet that is exactly what is happening with bridges, buildings, and other landmarks are being lit up in his honor. The saturation of this individual's mark, singing its swan song before the world moves on next week, is felt and seen in simplicity and elaboration.

Next week will no doubt bring something louder, maybe scarier, and considerably less purple, but for this weekend, at least, I'll be Amelie Poulain, noticing details that no one else sees, looking back at the audience in the dark theater of international mourning over the loss of this incredible talent.

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