Eulogy for the rockstars

By Myke Atkinson

I would like to take this opportunity to thank you all for coming here today. I know how much they all meant to us, and I want to let you know that I feel your pain.

I still remember the first time I was introduced to them. A 14 year-old skinny-white kid just beginning to experience a brand new world of feelings, ranging from unbound curiousity to teenage confusion and sexual angst. My best friend introduced me to Kurt for the very first time, and I began a relationship that runs deeper than anything else I hold dear.

They taught me almost everything I know about pain, love, sadness and happiness. It was they who translated life into a tolerable five-minute story, easing me to sleep each night. Through them I learned how to get through the hardest times. It’s because of them (Billy in particular) that I learned to play guitar.

There was a time when I could come home and know that one of them would be waiting for me, ushering me into their world, full of their problems and their triumphs. They were always willing to tell me about their trips, Roger was especially good at displaying his darker side.

They were idols–invisible beasts and fragile beauty at the same time. When they spoke, all ears tuned in. They could command armies with the a few subtle bends and strokes. Masses would follow everywhere they went, because they knew they were seeing something very special. When they started to die out, I, like the rest of you, began to mourn their death.

Now they’re gone. Gene and Paul went their separate ways, and Jim is dead, though his poetry lives on. I long for the days when John and Paul would cry for Help and when David would sing me the story of the Space Oddity. I want to be swept into a crowd of thousands gathered to hear what Mick has to say today. Jimi is gone now, but the sounds he made will live on through all the guitars of the world.

I pray the day will come when one will rise up and lead the masses with their charisma and charm. I want a leader who will spit in the face of those who get in the way of success. I dream for an antisocial prick who has problems with drugs, women and money. I desire a beloved celebrity that is adored by all for their talent and strength.

I need a rockstar. But alas, they are all gone.