I have cocooned myself in various music artists. It’s weird to say that. Odd to read it out loud. But it’s true. These bigger than life celebrities play their songs for many reasons, whether it’s for self reflection, personal experience, because they enjoy it, the list goes on and on. The same can be said for the less than famous. I would like it to be because of me, and me only. We all get something from the lyrics and the music and apply it however they wish. When that artist dies, I just…pause.

For me it’s like, spending all that time and money on the music has somehow entered in a contract with that artist. The contract? It’s a personal thing between them and myself.

I love a lot of bands but nothing hit me so hard as the passing of the artist. Sitting at the kitchen with a boom box and a friend, a slew of bootlegs sprawled across the table. Drinking coffee and writing our own poetry. Singing with all our might “mostly off-key” at every ugh and ow. Matching every intro with little fingers playing air guitar. It was so simple back then, but now… a new chapter has to be written, and I just can’t seem to find my purple notebook anymore.

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