Tuesday, April 26, 2016

Purple Reign... in the pines

To say I was a fan of Prince...

Well, that would be patronizing. And disingenuous.

Equally so, if I tried to pretend to be one now. No. That would be a disservice not only to him but also his fans. I can't say I have any of his records or CDs. (Yet.)

Oh, sure I was well aware of him and his talents. Liked Little Red Corvette, knew Purple Rain and Party Like its 1999? Cool. I can only remember that I can't remember details of a run-in or two with 'His Royal Badness' in downtown Minneapolis in the early '80's. Prince had the tendency of just showing up in and around the venue First Avenue, the location for filming much of the 1984 film, Purple Rain. Later, when he opened up Glam Slam in 1989, the odds of a Prince sighting, when he happened to be in town, went up.

So what I'm trying to say, here, is really what I'm feeling. It is something so much more than fandom... I'm in awe. Watching Prince from like another platform; the way he could move/glide. The voice and vocalizations. His spectacular guitar playing. His shyness/boldness. Every time I feel like comparing him, I just don't. He was clearly  a 'one-of-a-kind'. At 5'2", he grew to become an international entertainment giant. With a 'secret' vault.

Seeing Purple Rain the movie again Saturday night was like connecting the dots backward. It somehow made sense that way.

Prince's dying alone in his private elevator... at only 57... somehow, has taken a part of me, from deep, and stretched it all the way to wherever he's moved on to. It's both far and close. These vibrating, pulsating lines of energy; light, love, whatever... I see them flow out into eternity and at the same moment wrap around my heart and head. In purple light. And in love. I'm not sure why. (Yet.)

I don't have the right words to communicate this very well. I will defer, for the time-being, to the photographs I took today out at Paisley Park. If you are local, I truly hope you can make it out in person this week. Bring someone special. My pictures do not do justice to the overwhelming force that is palpable and heartfelt among the thousands and thousands of items big, small, priceless... If you are unable to visit, may you get a sense of what I speak of from below. That is my wish.

A message from Prince; from his life, his death and his dreams, it's forming in my mind. And heart. It's Purple. And its Pine. I'm not sure quite why... but I sense... it's divine.


As I was leaving, I spotted a purple, heart-shaped balloon floating over and past Paisley Park. Peering through the fence at what once gleamed white like a mythical, mystical palace, to me, now felt like an empty sepulchre...
I have not figured out the Ginger Ale - Doritos connection, though... (Yet.)