Day 87: Back of a Car

Big Star is a great band. I have posted their songs before on here.

I watched the documentary about them over the summer, Nothing Can Hurt Me. It is a great story of this early 70s band from Memphis that never made it as big as they deserved. They had a lot of luck. They had good luck– a great studio and great engineers in their hometown and a lot of talent concentrated in their town. Critics loved them.  They also had a lot of bad luck– broken deals, bad timing, and palettes of records sitting idle in a locked warehouse. They could have been huge, but they never popped. Instead they just got old. Growing old is a privilege, right? Maybe if you get old someone can rediscover you and appreciate you with new ears in a new age.

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Day 33: Big Black Car

Losing Miles has torn me apart, and I am putting myself back together. It feels like I am reconstituting myself in some new form. None of those old pieces will fit together the way they fit before. I need to make them work again somehow, make them work with the Miles part missing. It is not easy. This grief is like a powerful drug and after taking it you’re not the same person and the world doesn’t seem the same.

The process of reassembly for me has involved a lot of writing and reflection. I write letters to Miles every day. I remember him as a boy and as a young man and I tell him about what happened during the day. I write to him about the power of my memories and also of their shortcomings. Investing my time alone in these memories has been really important to me. I feel closest to Miles when I am writing to him and sharing a memory.

It’s not easy reassembling myself in part because I am a private person. Losing Miles has turned me inside out. I am private person, and I typically hold my emotions close to myself. But this tragedy has changed that for me. I live in a small town, and everybody knows me and what has happened. It is hard to walk down the street. It is like living in a glass jar, and it feels like like everybody is watching me. Lots of people are worried about me and there is comfort in knowing this and in receiving their support. But sometimes it is nice to walk down the street in a place where people don’t know me and be anonymous. Where nobody worries about me. Where nothing can hurt me, nothing can touch me.

Reconstituting who I am involves spending a lot of time friends and family: people who knew Miles well and people who did not know him at all. It’s nice to visit and share Miles with people. This space is an extension of that sharing. It works for me because my instinct is to write and reflect and remember. In this space I can do it and interact with folks all over the world who can help me remember. It is a nice place, this blog where I can remember Miles and his love of music and reflect on songs we both enjoyed.

I miss Miles so much.