No. Not Prince.

It’s selfish.  I don’t want Prince to be gone because he was a connection that I had with an old friend who passed away years ago, Curt.

Curt was f*ing wild.  Stupid wild.  Dangerous wild. And I loved him.  He introduced me to Prince in 1979 or 1980, I don’t know which.  It might have even been 1981.  Curt had a huge crush on Prince.  I didn’t think that much about it, because Curt idolized so many musicians.  Music- was another thing that linked Curt and I.  He had a plethura of stringed instruments that we played.  We sounded really good together.

But I’ll never forget the poster in Curt’s bedroom.  It was Prince, holding a white electric guitar, wearing a blousy shirt open all the way to his navel.  He was beautiful.

I fell for him watching Purple Rain.  Purple Rain was hard and warm and lovely and poignant, and unlike anything anyone had ever made into a movie at that time.  It was the first time I ever saw a guy say it’s not alright to beat a woman.  It was a totally new concept.  The skinny little dude standing up and saying, “No!”

Curt said no a lot, too.  Unfortunately, he said yes to all the wrong things.  He was found at the bottom of a basement stairway with a broken neck.  His neck was as thick as a tree.  I can’t believe it was an accident, but I’m no coroner. Right?

Be careless, Curt.  Be careless, Prince.  Tune up those strings.