Prince and Other Ps

This week, Thursday, is my 39th year on Earth. It’ll be a Taurus Moon, and, at its setting, it’ll be the 1st new moon of the month. So, with my return from WordPress hiatus, I warn all of you I may turn into a Minotaur. Don’t let that stop you from buying me a margarita.

The demigod Prince has entered another realm. A day out thrifting, my partner-in-thrift answers a phone call from her roommate. A quick ‘okay’ then she hangs the call. She turns to me and simply states, “Prince died.”

“Uh uh,” I scramble for my phone and seek 3 reliable media sources. I’m not convinced but Yahoo News has it splattered front page. Then other sources turn up. I feel my chest sink. The overhead music shifts to “When Doves Cry.” Just like that. Phone call. Statement. Funeral song.

This is where I share my Prince-related tragedies. Flash to high school, 1994ish, and Excalibur Color Guard is entering its winter season. Traditionally, the juniors and seniors of the troupe put together solo or combo shows for UIL competition. I had a wonderful vision for “When Doves Cry”: a gossamer flag with matching, fluid dress, a thunderous dance routine with a recruited male dancer strong enough to execute lifts. The recruited dancer was my good friend Shamon, who was not only openly, proudly gay but also did. Not. Give. A. Fuck. Shamon’s vision involved much pelvic thrusting and grinding, which, for the music, I felt worked. My director, knowing Shamon, instantly shut us down. Didn’t even get to demonstrate our crotch lift!

Fine. Gotta come up with something…softer. I go to Prince’s “Diamonds and Pearls” era, the song “Seven”:

All seven and we’ll watch them fall
They stand in the way of love
And we will smoke them all
With an intellect and a savior-faire
No one in the whole universe
Will ever compare

I am yours now and you are mine
And together we’ll love through all
Space and time, so don’t cry
One day all seven will die

Can you envision a trio of fiery young women, tossing sabres up around and in exchange with each other, sylphs, seers, soothsayers, aflame with cosmic veneration? Oh! How lovely. Yup, that got shut down too. The music, it turns, was too “sexually suggestive.” Not to soon after, I quit the guard. My farewell solo was a boring sabre-flag dance to Boys II Men.

Thank you Prince, for teaching me to stick to my artistic guns, and not give in to other people’s preferences.

Hospital visits were at an all-time high this year. BF and I are fortunate that we had one solid month of no hospital journeys, but that doesn’t mean we have an all-clear. It is the stuff of all treatment plans: doctors diagnose, assign medications, see what works, and then keep mixing it up until something sticks. My meds have caused terrible difficulty with memory and focus (which is why this blog was put on pause). It’s as if I’ve inherited an attention deficit condition. Thus, I’m not writing much other than in my journal. However, my interest in other mediums has increased. I’m hanging out more with my visual artist friends. I’ll be signing up for some paint and photography parties this summer. Just because I’m not writing doesn’t mean I can’t produce quality art, nor does it mean that my other talents can’t be sourced. I’ve been helping out in various community projects and I’m tickling a proofreading/editing gig which would help finance a Busch Gardens visit at minimum. I’m not giving up on me by a long shot, people. Don’t you dare give up on me either.

And now, random photos for your enjoyment. Happy May, everyone!