Pop Goes The World

When Chris died, it was Elvis that told me. Presley, not Costello. Most don't believe me because El Great One has been dead for 36 years, but he is still out there, tricking us with his many forms and interpretations.

It was only El Diablo that could have told me about Chris, who I had known since grade school. We were not close, but Chris is one of those people who ways always at shows, always around Providence with his camera, always telling you something in that gravelly voice. His family is also close with ExA, so I came to re-know him in that capacity as well, her many stories about childhood shenanigans that showed unveiled Chris' personality before adulthood takes us all. In the late 80's, as I was driving around NK, I saw him walking along the side of the road, his trademark heavy metal hair cut and swagger, and gave him a ride. The irony of Chris is that he looked a bit frightening then, but once he started talking it dissipated and what you came to know was this oddly sweet, unassuming guy that loved music. The sweet part became known to me a few years ago when I ran into him at a Neutral Nation show on a very hot night, and he took my photo when I went out on the back deck to cool off. I thought nothing of it until he tagged me on Bacefook, and put a caption about knowing me since the 70's.

His death was sudden, but not entirely unexpected, as diabetes can kill you slowly. Still, Elvis barely had time to tell me about it, and went off to tell others. That night, all of us contemplated the feeling you get when a piece of your world has been removed but you're not quite sure how to fill it. Instead, it remains a gaping wound until the other sides of life draw together and heal, leaving a slight scar that prods your memory whenever it catches your eye.