Luxious Loss

So, my brain appears to have completely short-circuited this week – I am completely alone with the death of Lux Interior.  I’ve tried to share this with a whole parade of people over the past several days, but I’ve discovered that none of my friends or family or colleagues really know who he is.  I cannot figure out why this has become so important.  The Cramps are not my favorite band, though they may just be the all-time greatest live band.   I’m definitely regretting that I’ll never see them live again, but I’m also regretting that they’ve suddenly become real people.  Poison Ivy is, of course, in mourning and it’s too strange to think that she has an emotional life.  Onstage, she is cooler than cool – half mysterious fetish chick and half amused onlooker.  Somehow, they both deserved better than this.  They should have rocked and rolled and exposed themselves to ever new generations for a couple more centuries,at least.  If they had to die, it should have been in some deliciously disgusting sexual situation.  So the more I sit and think about it, the more I’m convinced that they’ve both been really robbed by his death.  But there’s nothing I can do besides pull all the leather and animal print out of my closet and pay the man some tribute.

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