I Shall Wear Purple

Today, the world is three times less fabulous than it was before. I can't even. Prince was only fifty-seven, FFS!!! [sigh] Come on, 2016. Stop screwing with my heroes.[1] I mean it. I've a number of great memories with a Prince soundtrack. Like when I drove my very first Miata (Red) with top down to the tune of Little Red Corvette. I stopped at a light and was laughing my ass off and enjoying the sunshine and the world and my part in it when a gentleman pulled up next to me in a Lexus. He grinned and said something sweet that let me know he was in on the joke. It was the second song I played in that car as I drove it off the lot. (The first was, of course, Cyndi Lauper's Girls Wanna Have Fun. Because hells to the yes--why the fuck wouldn't you? Gods, I loved that car. His name was Pyewacket.[2]) Prince wrote practically every song I danced my ass off to in the '80s. Reading about his last days, it seems like he knew what was on it's way. In a way, I'm glad of that. Having had a brush with death myself...there's this thing that happens sometimes, if you're lucky. You see the world and the people in it for the gorgeous, amazing-ness that they all are. You see how much of a gift the people you love are. Even strangers are incredible. You see how special everything is and (I believe) you get to take that bright and shining love with you into the dark. He deserved that.

I wasn't planning on going on that long about someone I didn't even know. But there you are.

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​[1] Prince, David Bowie, and Terry Pratchett?! Grrrrr.
[2] Of course I named him after Kim Novak's familiar in Bell, Book, and Candle. Just like I named my '67 Mustang, Lasher. ;)