I got stuck the last two days trying to write about Lou Reed, but it was me, not Lou Reed, that got in the way. Lou Reed doesn’t really have anything to do with it. He came up on Shuffle Saturday night and I found it weird that he died because I thought about him, but the truth is, I don’t feel his loss because he never had a real presence in my life.
At work today though, I saw a picture of a girl at a co-worker’s desk and it listed her birth date to death, eight years old. And because I have an eight year old, I had to ask about the girl. He told me details about her that made her real for a moment, along with the look in her eyes on the card. He said he keeps it there to remind him of what’s important, when work seems to get out of hand: the neighbor girl who used to ask if she could pet his dog.
It made me feel sick, the tragedy of it. I got in the elevator and a woman got on at the next floor and said it’s sunny out, and she’s excited! I wanted to mourn the girl but the cheery woman on the elevator wouldn’t let me as she kept talking about the sun, and I wondered if that’s why she got on then: someone I had never even seen before, who may not even be real.
I walked the road by work as I often do, looking for meaning, for separation from work-brain, for found images, inspiration in the trees and the strands of people cast into the scene.
I forgot about the girl by the time I got back to work. I’ve abandoned the Lou Reed post so I can get on with my life and get back to writing.