Fatale Abstraction

I didn't mean to be maudlin on that last entry, but I was thinking about Robert Palmer - how he was basically a clean-living family man who didn't go in for all that rock-star shit like drugging and terminal self-indulgence, etc. Terribly shocking to lose him, and cretins with chemicals-for-blood like Keith Richards and Ozzy Osbourne seem to hang on in spite of the reckless abandon with which they have treated life, their bodies, and the people around them. I never bought a Robert Palmer cd, but I always liked him. So much of his music is classic. Even running out and buying his music now will not make him any more present in the world - I remember the chord changes and brilliant structure of his music without ever even needing to hear it again. And still, it's sad to lose him. Sad in the same way I felt so hollow when I discovered the music of Jeff Buckley, only to find he had died mere months before at the age of 30. Stevie Ray Vaughan's death meant I would not see him perform in this lifetime, and yet his music is so much a part of my life. Strange to think we are part of a universe which stretches infinitely in all directions, and maybe ours and all neighboring galaxies are merely a mote floating around in some god-beast's cocktail. The idea of loss of people is as inconceivable to me as the breadth of the universe. I sometimes feel so ill-equipped for this life.