I already couldn’t sleep. Then this.

I have a million words and none at the same time. He was like a genuine god to me, who grew up in a single-mom household. I faintly remember old documentaries on black-and-white TVs and interviews with Dick Cavett (?). Taking it all in without really understanding what I was watching yet somehow knowing that this person was a one-in-a-million thing. All I can summon are vague, impressionistic ramblings because that’s what he was to me.. Like, his existence from afar landed on my skin like sunlight.


I know they’re all gonna die. Sonny Rollins, Stevie Wonder, Ishmael Reed. We gettin’ old and they’re older. I know. But old-folk nostalgia has me thinking more and more that we’re living in a world that’s simply incapable of producing the likes of these men again. We’ll have different greatnesses, to be sure. But my existence simply wouldn’t be possible without these Old Gods.