Have I mentioned that I find George Michael amazing? I listened to "Kissing A Fool" again, and realized I need no convincing on the point. I also recalled that Michael Buble did a version, but...I'm sorry, Michael, you are consigned to the Cave of No Memory. I can't control other people's radios, and I sure as heck wouldn't turn it off, but I have a rule that I at least try not to torture myself on purpose. [That Cave claimed James Taylor, too, didn't it?--ed.] Yeah. For now. But if he moves, he has a chance. I just couldn't do it in the case of "I Knew You Were Waiting (For Me)." Pol Pot could have said he liked it, and I'd still listen to it. I mean, honestly. How great is that song?
But truly, that day in November was as much a Day The Music Died as any plane crash in the middle of nowhere in 1959. If anybody cares, I haven't written a poem since, either. I guess poets can write tragic poems, too. But poets sing with words; I'm lucky I can sing anything at all. If He didn't command me to do it at least every Sunday, I'm not sure I could.
It is not that my grief is entirely unmixed with joy, but the joy is like a cheetah that never stops to look around. How did I start talking about this? George Michael.
Anyway, I remember when Amy Winehouse died. She was so young, and it was so stupid. Her music was pretty great. I was pointing out the loss to a theologian friend of mine, and he pointed out that we should care more about the fact that she had a better than 50-50 shot she landed in Hell than we should that we ourselves lost a great musician or famous person. He's right, of course, however indelicate that may be. Then I felt bad that I like celebrities so much. But you're darn right I'd find it easier and more fun to evangelize Tom Brady or George Michael. [What if they are total jerks?--ed.] Well then, OK. But appreciating someone's talent is a connection point. Maybe it means we should work harder finding and affirming connection points for the ordinary people in our lives. It just means that a famous person has a connection point and a friendship with a whole mess of people. Whether it's real or lasts is another thing. It still could be an inordinate focus in any one case, but anything could.
But truly, that day in November was as much a Day The Music Died as any plane crash in the middle of nowhere in 1959. If anybody cares, I haven't written a poem since, either. I guess poets can write tragic poems, too. But poets sing with words; I'm lucky I can sing anything at all. If He didn't command me to do it at least every Sunday, I'm not sure I could.
It is not that my grief is entirely unmixed with joy, but the joy is like a cheetah that never stops to look around. How did I start talking about this? George Michael.
Anyway, I remember when Amy Winehouse died. She was so young, and it was so stupid. Her music was pretty great. I was pointing out the loss to a theologian friend of mine, and he pointed out that we should care more about the fact that she had a better than 50-50 shot she landed in Hell than we should that we ourselves lost a great musician or famous person. He's right, of course, however indelicate that may be. Then I felt bad that I like celebrities so much. But you're darn right I'd find it easier and more fun to evangelize Tom Brady or George Michael. [What if they are total jerks?--ed.] Well then, OK. But appreciating someone's talent is a connection point. Maybe it means we should work harder finding and affirming connection points for the ordinary people in our lives. It just means that a famous person has a connection point and a friendship with a whole mess of people. Whether it's real or lasts is another thing. It still could be an inordinate focus in any one case, but anything could.
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