Sunday, November 14, 2004

Bobaloo and me

Besides my parents, Robert Palmer was, and is, the singular most important person in my life... so far. Our partnership, our friendship wasn’t just about music, even though musical discovery was our modus operandi, the success of which became my ticket ‘round the world. Together we instigated a ruckus that will never be silenced.
His role as teacher to my student opened doors to literary prowess, gastronomic delights, fine wines, delightful spirits, thought provoking celluloid, sartorial splendor, art of all media, arresting photography; all the while embracing obscure cultures and discovering artisans of every polka dot and stripe from sea to shining sea; a sherpa who taught me to live well, righteously, dangerously, giving me the freedom to willfully fling myself into the void and become a true citizen of this planet. ...One could say the boy put some spit and shine on this rube. ...Yeah. ...Like that.
Every mark I make in the creative domain of this life -which is just now rounding into a new chapter- there is a piece of him in it. In everything I do, Robert’s always there, up my ass, goading me, prodding me to dig deep and deliver, be the very best I can be in whatever I so choose.
My friend. Gone.
Me, here, to pick up the pieces, carry the torch.
My burden. His gift.


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