Readers of this blog know that Hippie Chick often provides the commentary and on occasion she allows JB to take over the keyboard. Now is one of those times.
The world lost a treasure last week when Prince Rogers Nelson exited. JB grew up with him; he shaped her formative years and she sang and danced and twirled to his royal purpleness. She felt alive and dangerous because Prince gave her a voice.
Prince was seductive, elusive, secretive, salacious, dangerous and all those forbidden, luscious words. It’s hard to come to terms with immortality. Waking up in a world where Prince – a man full of so much vigor – is nothing more than ashes, is sobering. I mean Prince – Mr. Purple Rain himself – is no more. All of his talent, all of his vivaciousness, simply gone.
If Prince had a spirit animal, that animal would certainly be a cat. Prince was the cattiest, coolest cat of them all. He was the grand lion of the feline kingdom and he reigned supreme.
Why was he catlike? Well, he slithered and pranced and teased and taunted on stage but he also owned himself. Prince never sold out or allowed the world to change who he knew he was inside. Just like a cat, he retained his independence while simultaneously taunting his followers, begging for their worship and praise, then retreating away in seclusion.
It’s widely known that nobody owns a cat. JB doesn’t own HC- HC simply allows JB to exist in her inner ciricle. Nobody owned Prince, he lived his own way, on his terms and allowed us to indulge in the exquisiteness of his immense talent whenever he felt like sharing.
Prince was the Hippiest of Chics – he set the bar high but I don’t expect many of us will ever jump that high except a few cats out there – cats like HC.
She owns her orange badassery just as Prince owned his royal purpleness.
Prince – you get the ultimate #rightfootup salute, you cool cat you.
JB (Who is just allowed to hang with the very cool HC)
Yeah, I am cloaked in Prince purple, can’t you tell?