And Prince

He got weird the last few decades.  I didn’t listen any more. I didn’t consider myself a Prince fan anymore. But listening to the Purple Rain soundtrack just now was devastating.

I don’t cry.  Ever.  I just don’t.  I guess I consider it a weakness or whatever.  Must have heard that at one time or another. So even with all things ending and life so so hard, I just keep doing what needs to be done and make it all work.  I don’t cry over it.  Waste of time and energy. 

My therapist hates me.  She says this is awful and horrible and not normal.  But why waste time crying when you have so little time to do what you need to and to be happy?  You need to work and make your children happy and your life happy.  You need to smile and be truly happy, because what’s the point in doing anything else?

But my dad died.  David Bowie died.  And Prince died.  Died.  I can’t see them any more.  I can’t yell at them for getting weird so that I can’t be a fan anymore.  They are just gone.  Assholes denying me that final tirade.  

Typical.

Purple Rain was just a movie. Likely not even that great, but I haven’t watched it in years to see if it holds up. But it was great then.

Like David Bowie, this movie/soundtrack (can you differentiate the two?) spanned genres. 

Everyone saw it and listened to it.  It was a Big Deal.  And the music was not punk, but still “okay” for punks to listen to-- we didn’t get in trouble for being off-punk for Prince.

In fact, the soundtrack played at the Varsity for the next few years in the café where we scrounged change to afford cafe mochas.  I remember Chuck screaming at me with the lyrics, “I never wanted to be your weekend lover,” and then him quickly becoming my weekend lover. I remember the entire soundtrack. Every.  Single.  Word.

And every word means the world to me. 

And he’s gone. Forever. My Purple Rain is over. And my first thought?  Debbie Jones.  I think we ALL thought of her first.  That’s how important Prince was. We worried about One of Our Own when he passed.

I remember going to First Avenue in Minneapolis every first few visits to Minnesota.  Just in case I got to see him.  Just so I could know in my heart that I saw him.  I remember knowing every word so well that when I revisited the soundtrack just now, even through my TEARS (yes, tears) I remembered. Every. Single. Word.  And the song that came next (see my DavidBowie rant).

And I remember thinking back then at the ripe old age of 17 that life was hard.  That the lyrics of Purple Rain were sad and appropriate and maybe I should learn to cry.  Yet, now, 30 years later, I still ask what is the point?  No one cares when you cry and nothing changes.  Isn’t it best to shake it off and be happy and do what you need to do to get to the point where you don’t feel like crying?

All while listing to Prince and the Purple Rain soundtrack and crying my eyes out.  Life comes full circle.

And now it’s time to move on. Because we are among the Beautiful Ones.