And then there’s this wholly other tribute, equal parts awful, mawkish, silly, and lovely (but better, for me, than what Danny Boyle did with, or to, the same song):
Love to Laurie Anderson and Lou’s other survivors. Miss ya, Lulu.
That is so wonderfully bizarre, I don’t even know what to think.
Now I’m kind of wishing they’d done it to “Sister Ray” or something similar: THAT’S NO WAY TO EARN A DOLLAR, DON’T YOU KNOW YOU’LL STAIN THE CARPET? could have been epic.
Death is not a big issue. Life is.
I’m so sad for her loss. I’ve always thought that every picture I’ve seen of them together, they look so happy…
It’s a beautiful image: doing tai chi just with his musician’s hands.
Peace and remembrance for you, Laurie Anderson.
I once heard Lou Reed in an interview describe himself as a novelist. I think that’s about right. It accounts for the largely spoken style, the detailed, realistic observation. When I told my wife he died, she said “He only had that one hit.” That’s not the point. Great art is not always a hit.
Caught between the twisted stars
the plotted lines the faulty map
that brought Columbus to New York
Betwixt between the East and West
he calls on her wearing a leather vest
the earth squeals and shudders to a halt
A diamond crucifix in his ear
is used to help ward off the fear
that he has left his soul in someone’s rented car
Last week I promised Lou to get him out of the hospital and come home to Springs. And we made it!
I can only hope and pray that when my time of dying comes my wife will do the same for me.
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