This post must be read whilst listening to 'Swing Spring' by Miles Davis. Otherwise, it won't make sense. February you say? Whitney died a couple days ago...no, I won't be waxing eloquent. I had forgotten about her, to be honest...but I listened to I Wanna Dance With Somebody for the first time in years today. And I remembered--I fucking loved that song when it came out. My youthful self would not have admitted it at the time--but shit, what a good tune. As the UK kids would say--"TUNE!!!"
I've read a lot about her death online--everything from the 'o god i love her' eulogies, to those who say 'good riddance to that crackhead!'
Need You Tonight just popped up on the playlist...are pop stars the new sacrificial lambs? They must die so we can have a good time?
Do our pop stars fulfill an extreme hedonistic role for the hive? They do what we cannot. They party like gods...and so, must die--because no mortal frame can handle THAT pressure.
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