Yeah, so, Prince. Ugh, 2016, why you wanna treat me so bad?
I don’t know if I can fully articulate what Prince’s music means to me. Like most people my age, “1999” and “Purple Rain” were some of the first albums I owned. I listened to them on a loop. My sister Michelle and I used to dance Prince songs all the time in our bedroom, where a Prince poster hung on the wall.
My mom took me to see “Purple Rain,” even though I was way too young to be seeing it. The story was a little over my head at the time, but the music … oh the music. The music was so amazing that it convinced me that “Purple Rain” was a really good movie. Listening to his music, I felt like I was getting away with something. It was so funky, but it was naughty, too. I liked it. I liked it a lot.
Prince and his music have been in my life since I was 8 years old. One of my all-time favorite songs is “I Wanna Be Your Lover,” and it came out in 1979. I know, right? Damn. I’m old. And now I’m living in a world with no Prince, and it feels wrong.
I just love Prince, and I’m so sad that he is gone.
Last year, while I was recovering from my mastectomy, my good buddy Katie came to visit me from Washington, DC. During her visit, she introduced me to a little game she likes to play. Every once in a while she would ask her, “I wonder what Prince is doing right now?” And the answer would always be something normal, but he’s doing it in a totally Prince way — so he’s watching a basketball game but he’s soaking in a tub filled with diamonds and pearls. I’ve played this mind game with myself I don’t know how many times in the past year.
I know that Prince was a human being, but he seemed so unreal, like he was a magical creature; a unicorn. The beautiful ones, they hurt you every time. I’m sure that a million people are writing stories about Prince that are way more eloquent and thoughtful, but I felt like I needed write something, because Prince and his music meant something to me.
Thank you, Prince. RIP, you sexy mother fucker.