Starlight

In horrible news, Heath Ledger died today. I'm feeling this death in an oddly visceral way -- a punched-in-the-gut, absolute woe sort of way. Of course there are obvious explanations for this -- the basic human tragedy, the shock factor, the searingly romantic vulgarity of "living fast, dying young, and having a beautiful corpse." A rich and talented -- and so, so beautiful -- life snuffed out miles ahead of its time. It so happens that I've had a personal encounter with this man, but please, who's to say how much "more" this makes me feel; I've been accused of taking every seemingly tangential death too seriously, which is largely because I can't see any death, or life, as "tangential." We are. All of us.

A couple of months ago, Neil took part in a musical tribute to Bob Dylan at the Beacon. The evening coincided (roughly) with the release of I'm Not There, and featured a roster of musicians who play on the soundtrack. Heath Ledger, who is one of a hodgepodge of actors playing Dylan in the movie, was the unofficial host of the whole thing, and was absolutely gracious and lovely from everything I witnessed and heard. We arrived at the theater at the same time he did; he came in right behind us carrying a stack of Lombardis pizzas -- the kind of nice-and-down-to-earth-guy behavior that is the stuff of eulogies. He was backstage with us the whole time, chatting with everyone and appreciating the music, completely unobtrusive. And damn he was cute.

I missed the after-party, but Neil had occasion to hang out with him there. They shared a cigarette and talked for a couple of minutes and -- though it sounds like mere fodder for the obit -- Heath was warm and friendly and a genuinely good person.

Ugh. My deep condolences to his family, his lady, whatever their status was, his daughter and friends. May you find your strength.

I don't know anymore to what degree tragedy lies in the fact that the dead no longer get to enjoy time on earth. I deeply long to believe that they are in a better place; I've not yet really begun to contemplate what that place might look like. But I think the tragedy is most definitely in the "living" -- the survivors. How it pierces and burns to miss someone who's died -- how you can drown on tears you haven't yet cried. I didn't mean for that to rhyme.

Rest in peace, you beautiful being.

I'll be writing more tonight, I think.