I know Prince is dead. I know that won't change tomorrow when I wake up. I know that the world is sad or shocked. I know that regardless of how anyone felt of him, today everyone is a Prince fan. And, if the calls and texts throughout the day were any indication, I know that people think that I'll take this badly. Well, I don't know. Maybe I'll know later. Heck, I'm not really sure what I'm trying to accomplish here.
Soundtrack of my life. This is how I described my relationship with Prince to anyone that wonders why my "unhealthy" fascination with him. From the first tape I ever owned of his (Parade) there have been times where his music or movies spoke to me. Playing "Sometimes It Snows In April" during my mother's funeral. Accepting my name because he played a character named Christopher in "Under the Cherry Moon." I even started writing a semi-autobiography story when I was in my late teens called "The Arms of Orion" where all the characters were names from Prince songs, all the chapters were Prince song titles, and the lead character (based on me) was the lead singer of a Prince tribute band. I used Andre Crabtree III for that character's name. Over the course of the story, the failed love interests were named Marcia, Dorothy, and Charlemagne. Actually, as I look at it, not all the chapters, but it is reflective of how much music is important to me.
Music is my escape, and Prince always had music I could escape to. Iron Maiden sounds like Iron Maiden. Meat Loaf sounds like Meat Loaf. Marilyn Manson sounds like Marilyn Manson. Areosmith sound-- You see the pattern. But Prince -- Prince was all music. From funk to jazz, from classical to rock, from spiritual to throw her on the bed and fuck her to it. Prince has music for that. And that was my hook. That's why my fascination. He always spoke to my situation. From the happiness of "Walk Don't Walk" "I Like It There" and "Delirious" to the spirituality of "Elephants and Flowers" "The Cross" "She Gave Her Angels" and his cover version of "One Of Us." From the power of "Now" "I Rock Therefore I Am" and "Like a Mack" to the soulfulness of "Joy In Repetition" "Digital Garden" and "Welcome 2 the Dawn." Even the love-hopefully songs like "Girl In My Dreams" "Beautiful, Loved and Blessed" "Somebody's Somebody" and "Still Would Stand All Time." There was always a Prince that helped me through something in my life.
Now what? Prince is gone, and he didn't write a song to help me with that. Well, he did. Depending on how I got it, it's either called Moonbeam Levels or A Better Place 2 Die. It is my all-time favorite song since I found it in '91. Both versions are a unmastered board recording that's heard to decipher. Every time he announced releasing songs from his vaults... this was the song I always wanted a clean version of. Today that hope died, but that song is now the perfect metaphor for my relationship with Prince and my life. Raw, unfinished, unclear, but all I have.
The rest of today's post is the lyrics from that song and snippets from "The Arms of Orion" (my story, not his song). Many will go back to their lives in a couple/few days, but this loss will stick with me for quite some time. Don't worry, I'll be fine. I always have my Prince music with me.
A Better Place 2 Die / Moonbeam Levels
Yesterday I tried 2 write a novel but I didn't know where 2 begin
So I laid down in the grass tryin' 2 feel the world turn
Boy loses girl in a rain storm, nuclear World War III
All that's left is pain and sorrow, as far as he's concerned
He says please send all your moonbeam levels 2 me
Please Send all your moonbeam levels 2 me
Please Send all your moonbeam levels 2 me
I'm looking 4 a better place 2 die
A newborn child knows nothing of destruction
Nothing of love and hate
What happens in between is a mystery
Because we don't give a damn about his fate
He says he'll never keep diaries 2 learn from his mistakes
Instead he'll just repeat all the good things he's done
Fight 4 perfect love until perfect love he makes
When he's happy then his battle will be won
Please send all your moonbeam levels 2 me
Please Send all your moonbeam levels 2 me
Please Send all your moonbeam levels 2 me
I'm looking 4 a better place 2 die
Please send all your moonbeam levels 2 me
Please Send all your moonbeam levels 2 me
He don't, he don't, he don't really wanna die
He don't really want 2 die
Scraps from "The Arms off Orion"
"Do you know why you're here?" the therapist asked as she sat in the chair at the foot of Aundre's bed.
Aundre was silent as he looked out the room's window.
"Your father says you're suicidal." She paused for any comment. "Is it over your mother's death?"
More silence as he took in her inquiry.
"You have to talk about it, Aundre."
"No," he finally said with a cold voice. "No, I don't. I've been put here against my will, and for the wrong reason."
"Suicide or your mother's death?" she asked.
He was silent again.
"Aundre?"
"Please, Stephanie, I'm not ready to talk about what I'm going through right now."
"Can you at least tell me what it is?"
"So you can put it in my chart?" he asked with deep sarcasm.
"So I know what we're to work on," she clarified.
"You wouldn't understand."
"Try me."
"Love."
"Love? I'm afraid I don't understand."
Aundre gave a halfhearted laugh. "Well, I'm not going to explain it." He looked at her. "Not until I'm ready." He returned to looking out the window. "I need to understand my situation a little better before I go explaining to everyone and God."
"Did you have a break up from a deep relationship?"
"Do you mind?" he snapped, feeling threatened by her probing. "I don't want to talk about it, okay? I promise; when I'm ready, I'll come to you."
"You do understand that your admittance here is because of whatever it is you're going through, so the longer you wait to talk about it the longer you stay."
"Point taken," Aundre said appearing to withdraw from the conversation.
"Tell me one thing, Aundre," she said, pausing for a second, "are you suicidal?"
"I don't know," went his simple answer.
She looked surprised. "You don't know? Aundre, I think when someone wants to kill themselves, they know."
"I don't. Now please, leave me be."
"Just like that?" she asked. "Just go? Last time you were here was because of your mother's death, but now, now you seem more withdrawn. Worse than last time, and I know that it's not because of your mother. Does she even have a name?"
Aundre looked away from the window, but not at Stephanie. He juggled the idea of letting her know or keeping quiet a little while longer. "Yes," he finally said, "she has a name; Marcia. Now please," he said to her with eyes filled with sorrow, "I want to be left alone."
"You're hurting, Aundre. Can we please talk?"
Aundre lowered his head in frustration. "Please," he said as the sorrow trickled into his voice, "I am not in the mood to talk right now."
"But I can tell-"
"Stop it!" he yelled.
She kept quiet as he sat on the bed, head bowed down as the emotions came rushing.
A tear ran down his face.
"Now is not the time to talk about this," he whispered. "Anytime but now. If you must stay, please, don't ask questions."
"Yea, but how am I-"
"Don't ask questions," he said looking up exposing his tear-tracked face. "I hurt, but not enough to talk."
"What are you looking for in a lover?" he asked her.
She looked at him, using her eyes and said, "I'm not."
She looked at him, using her eyes and said, "I'm not."
"Hello?" Aundre said as he picked up the phone.
"Aundre?" Charlemange's voice said with surprise; probably from him not being Fredrick, Aundre thought.
"Yes," Aundre said wondering if he should lie for the little imp. "Fredrick's in a session with his therapist," Aundre said, wondering if she could tell if he was lying.
"He doesn't want to see me, does he?"
She could tell, he thought.
"Please, Charlemange, I don't want to get dragged into this."
"Into what?"
"You and Fredrick. I don't know what's going on; I wish I did.
"So do I."
"But I'm not sure if I want to."
"Want to?" she asked sounding puzzled. "Want to what?"
Aundre paused as he debated his situation. "Be let in. I mean, I like you and all, but Fredrick and his jealousy won't let me near you, but now I get the impression he doesn't care. I want to know why, but then again, I don't."
The phone was silent for awhile as Aundre wondered if he had said too much.
Say something, he thought. Tell her something. At least get your foot in the door, his mind said before it started laughing. Get her from the rebound.
A crying voice interrupted his thoughts.
"What am I supposed to do?" she asked.
"What do you mean?"
"About my life. It sucks. My mother won't ever let me see my friends, my boyfriend won't ever see me, my best friend is trying to steal my boyfriend from me. I can't see anybody, I can't do anything, and I can't go anywhere. My life sucks."
Aundre sat there lost in her emotions. He wanted in. He wanted to get to know her. "Cheer her up," he thought. "What should I say though? I don't want to scare her off."
"What can you do from here?" his little voice asked.
"I can empathize," he answered. "She needs an ear to listen."
"You and I both know that an ear is not what she needs."
"You're wrong."
"I want to die," her voice said, breaking his thought.
Aundre was stunned. "Did she say what I think she said?" he asked himself.
"Yes," his voice answered, "and don't even think about it. She's suicidal We both heard it, but you denied it. Well she said it, and you better not do it. Just say good bye, hang up the phone, and walk away. You don't need this."
"She needs me."
"You need someone else."
"I can't have her. I want Charlemange."
"Listen to me. She'll only hurt you. Say good bye, hang up the phone, and walk away."
"I can't do that to her, I care. I have to do this."
"Aundre?" Charlemange's voice said with surprise; probably from him not being Fredrick, Aundre thought.
"Yes," Aundre said wondering if he should lie for the little imp. "Fredrick's in a session with his therapist," Aundre said, wondering if she could tell if he was lying.
"He doesn't want to see me, does he?"
She could tell, he thought.
"Please, Charlemange, I don't want to get dragged into this."
"Into what?"
"You and Fredrick. I don't know what's going on; I wish I did.
"So do I."
"But I'm not sure if I want to."
"Want to?" she asked sounding puzzled. "Want to what?"
Aundre paused as he debated his situation. "Be let in. I mean, I like you and all, but Fredrick and his jealousy won't let me near you, but now I get the impression he doesn't care. I want to know why, but then again, I don't."
The phone was silent for awhile as Aundre wondered if he had said too much.
Say something, he thought. Tell her something. At least get your foot in the door, his mind said before it started laughing. Get her from the rebound.
A crying voice interrupted his thoughts.
"What am I supposed to do?" she asked.
"What do you mean?"
"About my life. It sucks. My mother won't ever let me see my friends, my boyfriend won't ever see me, my best friend is trying to steal my boyfriend from me. I can't see anybody, I can't do anything, and I can't go anywhere. My life sucks."
Aundre sat there lost in her emotions. He wanted in. He wanted to get to know her. "Cheer her up," he thought. "What should I say though? I don't want to scare her off."
"What can you do from here?" his little voice asked.
"I can empathize," he answered. "She needs an ear to listen."
"You and I both know that an ear is not what she needs."
"You're wrong."
"I want to die," her voice said, breaking his thought.
Aundre was stunned. "Did she say what I think she said?" he asked himself.
"Yes," his voice answered, "and don't even think about it. She's suicidal We both heard it, but you denied it. Well she said it, and you better not do it. Just say good bye, hang up the phone, and walk away. You don't need this."
"She needs me."
"You need someone else."
"I can't have her. I want Charlemange."
"Listen to me. She'll only hurt you. Say good bye, hang up the phone, and walk away."
"I can't do that to her, I care. I have to do this."
"She's suicidal She'll drag you down like the others."
"She needs me."
"Do you enjoy this? You need someone who won't hurt you. Don't think that if you can't have what you need that you'll settle with what you want. It doesn't work that way. Stay away. Say good bye."
"I can't."
"You must. She'll kill you if you let her."
"She won't."
"Based on? You hardly know her."
"I want to get to know her."
"A suicidal little girl that has emotions as unpredictable as yours? Just say good bye; hang up the phone, and-"
"I'm going to tell her."
"Tell her what?"
"I don't know, but she needs to hear something."
"We both know what you're going to say. Don't do it."
"I have to."
"Say good bye..."
"She needs me."
"... hang up the phone..."
"I want her."
"... and walk away."
"I think I'm failing in love with you," he said in desperation.
His mind screamed in agonizing pain.
Silence thundered on the phone afterwards for what seemed like eternity.
"Please, Aundre, I don't what this. Not this way."
"Not what way?"
"I don't want to be alive anymore, and I don't want you to love me because it'll be that much harder for me."
"I know, and if you die, it'll be that much harder for me to carry on."
"I don't deserve you."
"And you deserve Fredrick? You're only hurting yourself."
"I'm suicidal. I want to die," she screamed. "Hurting myself is all just part of it. You're just going to get in the way."
"Prolong the pain," he injected. "I know the routine." He looked at his watch. "I have groups soon. Can you call me at eight tonight?"
"If I'm still alive."
"Thanks," he said with a smile. "I'll be waiting. Talk to you later."
"Good bye, Aundre," she said.
A dial tone replaced her voice as Aundre hung up his end.
"She won't call," his voice said.
"Yes she will."
"Do you enjoy this? You need someone who won't hurt you. Don't think that if you can't have what you need that you'll settle with what you want. It doesn't work that way. Stay away. Say good bye."
"I can't."
"You must. She'll kill you if you let her."
"She won't."
"Based on? You hardly know her."
"I want to get to know her."
"A suicidal little girl that has emotions as unpredictable as yours? Just say good bye; hang up the phone, and-"
"I'm going to tell her."
"Tell her what?"
"I don't know, but she needs to hear something."
"We both know what you're going to say. Don't do it."
"I have to."
"Say good bye..."
"She needs me."
"... hang up the phone..."
"I want her."
"... and walk away."
"I think I'm failing in love with you," he said in desperation.
His mind screamed in agonizing pain.
Silence thundered on the phone afterwards for what seemed like eternity.
"Please, Aundre, I don't what this. Not this way."
"Not what way?"
"I don't want to be alive anymore, and I don't want you to love me because it'll be that much harder for me."
"I know, and if you die, it'll be that much harder for me to carry on."
"I don't deserve you."
"And you deserve Fredrick? You're only hurting yourself."
"I'm suicidal. I want to die," she screamed. "Hurting myself is all just part of it. You're just going to get in the way."
"Prolong the pain," he injected. "I know the routine." He looked at his watch. "I have groups soon. Can you call me at eight tonight?"
"If I'm still alive."
"Thanks," he said with a smile. "I'll be waiting. Talk to you later."
"Good bye, Aundre," she said.
A dial tone replaced her voice as Aundre hung up his end.
"She won't call," his voice said.
"Yes she will."
TOO MUCH LOVE WILL KILL YOU (chapter entry)
I'm just the pieces of the man I used to be
Too many bitter tears are raining down on me
I'm far away from home
And I've been facing it alone for much too long
I feel like no one ever told the truth to me
About growing up and what a struggle it would be
In my tangled state of mind
I've been looking back to find where I went wrong
Too much love will kill you
If you can't make up your mind
Torn between the lover and the love you left behind
You're headed for disaster 'cause you never read the signs
Too much love will kill you, every time.
Too many bitter tears are raining down on me
I'm far away from home
And I've been facing it alone for much too long
I feel like no one ever told the truth to me
About growing up and what a struggle it would be
In my tangled state of mind
I've been looking back to find where I went wrong
Too much love will kill you
If you can't make up your mind
Torn between the lover and the love you left behind
You're headed for disaster 'cause you never read the signs
Too much love will kill you, every time.
Aundre was deciding early on his journey that song true to his present situation were not in his best interest to be listening to. A coast to coast journey needed no reminder why it was done this way. Dorothy was where she was, and Aundre was on his way to California; but first he had to stop by Marcia's for a few days. He hadn't seen her in almost four years, but she was an ear that he turned to on the phone ever since his first intentions of leaving his wife, Dorothy. He was glad that he and Marcia had remained friends for all these years, despite what they went through in high school.
"I don't know, Marcia," he remembered saying to her one Sunday morning in California while Dorothy had gone to church, "things seem different since I got back from Alaska. Maybe it's just me. It just seems different knowing that there's this big gap in that trust barrier."
"You had a bad misunderstanding, Aundre. She was having a bad time with you gone and you, like you always do, made the best with what you had."
"She had no right to accuse me of sleeping with her. I took a vow when we got married and to accused of breaking it really upsets me."
"Did you?"
"I can't believe you asked me that."
"As your friend, and editor; did you?"
"And as someone who finds it difficult to lie and break promises; no."
"I believe you."
"Thank you. You know sometimes I wish you were my wife, but hey- my loss."
"Something like that."
They both observed a moment of silence as Aundre tried to think of something to say and she waited for him to say something.
"It's just that on the way back I started to think, or rather realize that I don't love her any more. At least it doesn't feel like love anymore. It's empty. The whole relationship is empty, and that's not a feeling that I feel comfortable living."
"So you need to tell her this," she said as if he was paying her eighty bucks to lay on her couch and pour his heart out.
"Easier said than done, Marcia. I don't think you, or anyone else for that matter, realize how difficult it is to tell some one that you've shared a life with that you're done. I may not love her, but she still loves me. I don't want to hurt her."
"So you'll keep on hurting yourself?"
"It's better than her hating me."
"If you say so."
"You had a bad misunderstanding, Aundre. She was having a bad time with you gone and you, like you always do, made the best with what you had."
"She had no right to accuse me of sleeping with her. I took a vow when we got married and to accused of breaking it really upsets me."
"Did you?"
"I can't believe you asked me that."
"As your friend, and editor; did you?"
"And as someone who finds it difficult to lie and break promises; no."
"I believe you."
"Thank you. You know sometimes I wish you were my wife, but hey- my loss."
"Something like that."
They both observed a moment of silence as Aundre tried to think of something to say and she waited for him to say something.
"It's just that on the way back I started to think, or rather realize that I don't love her any more. At least it doesn't feel like love anymore. It's empty. The whole relationship is empty, and that's not a feeling that I feel comfortable living."
"So you need to tell her this," she said as if he was paying her eighty bucks to lay on her couch and pour his heart out.
"Easier said than done, Marcia. I don't think you, or anyone else for that matter, realize how difficult it is to tell some one that you've shared a life with that you're done. I may not love her, but she still loves me. I don't want to hurt her."
"So you'll keep on hurting yourself?"
"It's better than her hating me."
"If you say so."
Aundre smiled as he recalled the being married to Marcia slip. "Yes," he thought, "why didn't I? Of course would things be different? Would I be happy? Would I be leaving my wife on one coast as I sort out what's going through my head on another? The coast where everything thing started.
WHEN DOVES CRY
"So you're not happy," Marcia said to Aundre as her lay on her living room floor while she looked through her CDs.
He flopped onto his back in despair. "Not happy is a nice way to put it." He gave a short halfhearted laugh. "A very nice way. It's just that the more I stay with Dorothy, the more I know that's it's not her I love."
Then it hit him. A thought so loud in his head that he thought he might scream. He looked at Marcia to see if she had heard it. He gave a long sigh of pain and relief. A sigh she heard.
"Are you okay, Aundre?" she asked as she grabbed the CD she was looking for and walked to where he lay. "I don't think I've ever seen you this down before.
"Yea, well being married'll do that to ya'."
"Talk," she said as she sat down. "What's wrong?"
"Everything," he said as he recalled the times they had together, four years earlier. He closed his eyes in pain.
"Don't let these feelings come back," he said to himself, "not now, not here."
A tear slowly made its way through his closed lids and down his face.
He lay there, on her floor, in pain over being with his wife, and now, wanting her.
Another tear broke lose.
"Why do I have to hurt now? In front of her?"
He held back crying with all his might as another tear ran down his face.
A shock went through his body as she touched his face and followed the tear.
"Everything is wrong," he said, his voice overflowing with sadness. "Leaving Tribal Youth to get away from all those bad memories, ordering that damn fruit cocktail," he paused to release a deep breath, "coming here."
She quickly withdrew her hand. "Coming here?"
He opened his eyes to discover her blue eyes locked on his. He slowly closed his eyes again.
"All the emotions I ever had for you have come rushing back. I feel like a sand damn that can't take the strain." He stopped to release a few more tears. "I had wondered if two days ago I'd fallen in love with you again, and at first seeing you I was remembered how beautiful you are."
"And now?" she asked after a long pause.
He drew a couple difficult breaths as he tried to put his thoughts into words. "I never stopped loving you, Marcia. For the past few years I've been living a lie. A lie created to shroud the fact that there is only one person that I can love, and that she broke my heart so many years ago." He groaned in frustration.
"I can't believe I did this to myself."
She looked away in thought. "What exactly are you doing to yourself?" she asked.
He sighed. "In high school I thought I was in love with you, but, unlike all the others, it felt like love. You know. Can't eat, can't sleep, a weird uncontrollable shaking."
"No," she said shaking her head.
He opened his eyes to see her still looking away.
"I don't know what love feels like."
"But you told me you were in love with Bob."
"Please," she said looking at him in distaste, "I was seventeen years old. I didn't know what love was."
"I did," he said closing his eyes again, the tears having stopped for the time being. "I knew then as I know now. It's just sad that I had to waste so much time with Dorothy. I think I could handle living alone for the rest of my life than living a lie." He fell silent, as he thought for a bit. Lost in memories, both good and bad. "I think I loved you too much, and now it pains me to be here still knowing that you don't share the same feelings." Silence filled the room as he tried to bring his emotions to a similar calmness.
Then he felt her lips on his.
He flopped onto his back in despair. "Not happy is a nice way to put it." He gave a short halfhearted laugh. "A very nice way. It's just that the more I stay with Dorothy, the more I know that's it's not her I love."
Then it hit him. A thought so loud in his head that he thought he might scream. He looked at Marcia to see if she had heard it. He gave a long sigh of pain and relief. A sigh she heard.
"Are you okay, Aundre?" she asked as she grabbed the CD she was looking for and walked to where he lay. "I don't think I've ever seen you this down before.
"Yea, well being married'll do that to ya'."
"Talk," she said as she sat down. "What's wrong?"
"Everything," he said as he recalled the times they had together, four years earlier. He closed his eyes in pain.
"Don't let these feelings come back," he said to himself, "not now, not here."
A tear slowly made its way through his closed lids and down his face.
He lay there, on her floor, in pain over being with his wife, and now, wanting her.
Another tear broke lose.
"Why do I have to hurt now? In front of her?"
He held back crying with all his might as another tear ran down his face.
A shock went through his body as she touched his face and followed the tear.
"Everything is wrong," he said, his voice overflowing with sadness. "Leaving Tribal Youth to get away from all those bad memories, ordering that damn fruit cocktail," he paused to release a deep breath, "coming here."
She quickly withdrew her hand. "Coming here?"
He opened his eyes to discover her blue eyes locked on his. He slowly closed his eyes again.
"All the emotions I ever had for you have come rushing back. I feel like a sand damn that can't take the strain." He stopped to release a few more tears. "I had wondered if two days ago I'd fallen in love with you again, and at first seeing you I was remembered how beautiful you are."
"And now?" she asked after a long pause.
He drew a couple difficult breaths as he tried to put his thoughts into words. "I never stopped loving you, Marcia. For the past few years I've been living a lie. A lie created to shroud the fact that there is only one person that I can love, and that she broke my heart so many years ago." He groaned in frustration.
"I can't believe I did this to myself."
She looked away in thought. "What exactly are you doing to yourself?" she asked.
He sighed. "In high school I thought I was in love with you, but, unlike all the others, it felt like love. You know. Can't eat, can't sleep, a weird uncontrollable shaking."
"No," she said shaking her head.
He opened his eyes to see her still looking away.
"I don't know what love feels like."
"But you told me you were in love with Bob."
"Please," she said looking at him in distaste, "I was seventeen years old. I didn't know what love was."
"I did," he said closing his eyes again, the tears having stopped for the time being. "I knew then as I know now. It's just sad that I had to waste so much time with Dorothy. I think I could handle living alone for the rest of my life than living a lie." He fell silent, as he thought for a bit. Lost in memories, both good and bad. "I think I loved you too much, and now it pains me to be here still knowing that you don't share the same feelings." Silence filled the room as he tried to bring his emotions to a similar calmness.
Then he felt her lips on his.
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