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honky cracker: #
Okay, I'm breaking rule #1 that I made for myself when I joined the happyrobot crew: Never post while you're drinking.
That being said, let's go.
I'm over at my friend Paul's place, drinking martinis on his balcony, watching the planes fly over the Prudential building,
Growing up, Paul was a miserable sonofabitch. Not that his mom was a bitch, cuz she's sweeter than sugar on the lip of a lemonade glass. But he was convinced that he'd never find someone to love him, and he'd die a long, slow, miserable lonely death.
Then here in Boston, he met Jess. Jess is gorgeously beautiful, even sweeter than sugar on the lip of a lemonade glass, and smarter than the day is long. She's fantastic. And I couldn't wish a better partner on my own brother. Which Paul is. Paul is, for all intents and purposes, my brother. We've known each other since first grade. He's the one who got me into theater. We went through a lot of crap together. And I'm proud to call Paul my brother, through thick and thin, through whatever is thrown at us.
So Paul, Jess, and I have been drinking martinis all night, and the talk turns to one Jeff Buckley.
I don't know if anyone out there has listened to Jeff Buckley. And if you have, I don't know what your opinions of him are. But his cover of Leonard Cohen's Hallelujah is the most beautiful thing I've ever heard, take issue with me if you will.
Anyways, Jeff Buckley recorded his first album, Grace, which was released without much fanfare. It didn't sell well. But he had a bit of buzz around him. He went down to Memphis, Tennessee to record his second album. This album was supposed to be his breakthrough -- Jeff Buckley, superstar.
Unfortunately, Jeff one night, while working on this album, decided to go swimming in the Wolf River... with his boots on. With his jeans on.
He didn't realize that the Wolf River was a tributary of the Mississippi River. The poor guy was caught in an undertow. With his boots on. He drowned in the Wolf River.
From some eyewitness accounts, Jeff's last words were lyrics from a Led Zeppelin song: "Bay-bay! I need a whole lotta love!"
While I mourn the loss of Jeff Buckley, how many of us have drowned within those same words: "Baby. I need a whole lotta love."
