I sat on the bus from 72nd st all the way to 1st and 1st.
No music, didn't open my books, didn't do the NYTimes crossword.
Honestly the dramatics aren't needed because death is just another part of life.
but I feel sad anyway.
The simplest version of that emotion, thats what I feel.
When I think about all the pain he must have gone through all of those years, the way he was adored and treated like a pet as a child.
The way he never had a chance for the freedom of normalcy.
The way he couldn't make a single mistake, he couldn't give up performing, practicing, working...
for his whole life.
The way he mourned that by becoming what WE all wanted him to be. A character, a muse, a freak, a king.
He spoke so soft like he was scared of saying anything to make us stop loving him.
And whatever it was he did over the years that was immoral or unusual or misunderstood...I think we can use humanity to understand what it is to be truly flawed.
I used to dance and sing to my parents vinyl and he was one of my favorites.
When I sing his songs I feel good about my voice and myself.
When I dance to his music I wish I could do what he did so easily.
Everyone wants to be loved and remembered.
I'm going to love him and remember him.