Apr 22, 2016

1 min read

He lived up to his name. How many people can truly say that? His mama must have sensed that he was destined for greatness.

I had lots of friends with eclectic tastes, or friends who spent every penny they got their hands on to buy cassette tapes. They were glued to their Walkman's, or had their boom box glued to an ear, with a steady stream of music that never ended. Most of them didn’t know lyrics to the majority of what they listened to. They were in for the rhythm, or the melody, or the bass.

I was very loyal to just a few artists and soundtracks. And if I owned it, I memorized it. All of it. I mean, what’s the point in owning music with words if you can’t sing along?

I am a musician, and so the music matters.

But lyrics. Oh, God. Words are my kryptonite.

The Purple Rain soundtrack gutted me. Every word; all that pain. A muse for my angst.

I loved everything Prince ever did. Every, single track played on the radio beams me back to puberty, and virginity, and not anymore.

I just read, 5'2". Come again??

The man was a giant. He lived with purpose. He was so much larger than life.

Ah, Prince. You’ll be missed dearly, but I suspect that a whole new generation will soon be introduced to your legacy.


Enjoy the Afterworld.

I still don’t know what I want to be when I grow up, but I know I want it to be spelled right and punctuated correctly. I guess that’s something.

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