ON MEMORIALIZING PRINCE.

The Hardest Thing In The World To Do.

A few weeks ago we saw April 21st come and go. It was my daughter’s 18th birthday and the third anniversary of Prince’s death.

I’ve got this tattoo on my leg with his symbol and the note “Sometimes it Snows in April” marking the date but it has never felt like enough. A bit of a weak tribute, I guess, but I’m a bit of a weak person. I tried.

Netflix, God bless em, has been running Sign O’ The Times all month. I’ve been sending it around to friends mostly in awe of Shiela E’s drumming, which steals your heart and mind the minute you commit to watching it. It’s otherwise a little painful. Prince, sadly, was never really a great filmmaker, no matter how hard he tried.

But he was Prince, and even poor choices still looked good.

I woke up from a nap thinking about this piece — sometimes it takes a while — and decided to write whilst thinking of a photo that one of his staff had posted a few days after his passing of his emaciated and dead body lying outside of an elevator at Paisley Park. It was the worst thing I’ve ever seen and I wish it could be unseen, but it cannot.

Much like David Bowie and George Michael, there was no real memorial for the fans to absorb. Some call it selfishness, I choose to call it humility.

Three years later, all we have are things like this. Things we can send aroud to remind ourselves of what we really did lose three years ago almost to the day.

Things that quietly remind us of what it means to be an artist, and as we watch, grant us peace.

God Bless you, Prince Rogers Nelson. You sure did bless us.