“I turned anger into ambition,” he told one interviewer. “Any sort of injustice would outrage me. I couldn’t contain myself.”
The only thing on my mind is what happened just now: confirmation that the dear man with the boyish smile occasionally laced with a witty jab is gone from this world. I was relieved when it wasn’t my turn to write the blog last week. I didn’t want the task of having to talk about losing Charles Bradley. Now this.
Tom Petty was always there with a moody, brooding, reassuring word. A kindred spirit in that sense. The world could try to kick the shit out of him, but he was not having it. What’s more, he was ready to save you with him and drag you out of that shit town you were born in and out to better spaces; out to live out your dream, even if you might fail miserably.
The point is you went for it, and you went down swingin’.
I am so, so, so very gutted. By everything.
It’s up and down all the time. We go on living our personal lives, but the world is burning down around us. Las Vegas. Hurricanes. Earthquakes. This Clown and his flagrant mockery of our shared values.
I don’t know what’s coming, but we really cannot afford to take anything for granted right now. When the dark is coming in for me, I will remember my too-perfect husband and partner in life, my incredible family, my amazing friends, the charmed and adventure-filled life I always wanted and have, my health—did I mention that boy already? (I did?) There’s also that band that gives me meaning. That music made by the likes of Tom Petty, Charles Bradley, Sharon Jones, David Bowie (the list goes on) that keeps my life so full of magic, so full of peaked-out emotions I could never have otherwise. That music that helps me understand myself and the people I love better. That music that is my therapy. That music that turns this inner shy kid into an uninhibited creature on the stage. There is nothing better to bring yourself up and bring us together. I dare you to argue that.
(But don’t. I’m fragile.)
But I won’t back down.
P.S. Lots happened this week, but I don’t have it in me to talk about them all right now. Pictures and captions will have to suffice.
P.P.S. Drink more coffee and listen to more music.
Saturday, we did some light recording at Taylor Barefoot’s studio.