:: and this i know ::

I once made an ex-coworker laugh at my panic when I described my morning at home getting ready for work. I had turned on the TV to MTV (back when I would actually watch the channel for something other than episodes of Awkward) for background noise when I heard the all too familiar (to me at least) strains of Lou Reed’s Walk on the Wild Side. This made me beyond thrilled, as I was rarely able to hear Lou unless I was the person responsible for selecting his music to be played. This excitement soon passed as I had the horrible realization that if MTV was actually playing Lou Reed in the morning, it could only mean one thing: he had passed away. I told my coworker how I had stopped getting ready, how I froze, how I could not trembling and finally how I was relieved when Adam Sandler appeared on the screen. You see, MTV was showing Lou only due to the fact that various comedians, including Mr. Sandler, had joined him to perform his most well known song at a benefit the night before. I am unsure if it was the fact that I was so panicked that made the coworker laugh, the way that I described it, or the fact that I ended my tale with something along the lines of “Who knows what will happen when he actually passes.”

10 years later and I am able to tell you what happens.

Tears. A lot of uncontrollable tears that stream down my face throughout the date of his death (October 27th). Tears that come when checking the mail and seeing him on the cover of Rolling Stone, an issue that you silently curse for the address label covering part of the image as you put it away beside the issue with Beastie Boy Adam Yauch on the cover – yet another issue that cannot be read just yet. Why lie? I am not emotionally ready.

It took years, YEARS for me to listen to the Ramones after Joey died. It was only in the past few years that I have been able to listen to the Clash again since losing Strummer. As for the Beasties? I still have to skip them when they come on the radio or on the iPod. It is just too soon, too painful. While I love these people, they in no way hold a candle to Lou in my life.

I have joked that I worship at the alter of Lou. In a way, it is not a joke. I cannot help but think of various lyrics when trying to provide an anecdote. I’ve misquoted his memories that he has passed on from his time with Delmore Schwartz. I cannot help but smile at the footnotes he’s made in passing about his songs. I mean, “Her eyes were hazel” likely did not mean much to others, but even seeing blue eyes, whether pale or not, I cannot help but see those words form in my mind.

So it was with extremely heavy heart that I came across the news four weeks ago of his passing. Was I surprised? In a way, no. Not because of his past, but because of the knowledge that he had recently had a liver transplant. A transplant that caused him to cancel his all to rare West Coast dates this spring, including one at the Orpheum where I was to attend. The news of the cancelation did not include the information on the transplant, just that the dates were no more. I still hate that when I found out the news I told my friend that I knew, I knew that the last time I saw Lou in 2007 was the last time that I would see him perform. While I kid about always being right, I truly wish I were wrong about this fact.

I have written a few obituaries for a friend’s site, a process that I do enjoy more than any sane person should (not to say that I am entirely sane of course). While I wrote one about Adam Yauch, I just could not, and still cannot, think of writing one for Lou. I know the various facts that some may not know – things from Delmore Schwartz to the Jades to the Exploding Plastic Inevitable (which I wrote my senior paper on in high school) to Rachel to quoting Shakespeare on MTV. Yet it was too close, too personal. Too much.

It still is too much for me to think about. I never realized how much music of his, whether solo or with the Velvet Underground, I have on my phone and at work until recently thanks to my decision to shuffle tracks for background music. I also never realized how many people would associate me with him. I am touched and shocked by the people who reached out to let me know that they were thinking of me, something that is still very good, yet very sad to think about as I attempted to ignore most of what was being said on-line or in texts.

As a fan, I was pleased to see Lou getting the recognition that he, in my mind, so rightfully deserves. However, there are only so many times you can read a variation of Walk on the Wild Side as a title of an obituary – they are bookmarked for reading at a time I can deal with the tears. There are only so many Tweets you can read that make you roll your eyes at people jumping on a bandwagon, or to say that they do not care – I am still unsure about which is more upsetting, although I think it may be the jumpers since at least the uncaring are being honest. Worse is the fact that with a majority of any postings online comes the opportunity for the assholes to shine – the comment section. I swear, is there an unofficial competition that I am unaware of where people must strive to leave the cruelest messages each hour? There is no need to mention your opinion that it is a waste that someone received a transplant. There is no need to comment that someone is a “no one.” What there is a need for is to move along without comment if the obituary does not lead you to respond kindly. Also, death is not a competition. It is not a way to say that you are a bigger fan, nor that you had seen him so many more times than another person. This is a time to join in the sorrow, not to brag in a game of one-upmanship.

I swear, the things that I saw when merely glancing through pages to bookmark for later reading makes me realize I might have been correct in declaring Lou a personal God. So many have said he was an asshole (although he was great the times I was lucky enough to meet him). If some say we are made in God’s image. . .

In: music | | #