Sometimes weeping tears of blood just ain’t enough
I had such a crush on Marilyn Monroe when I was a pubescent teen hiding out in my basement bedroom with the door locked. These days, though, do you ever wonder WTF you’re doing this for? And why you ever idealized Marylin Monroe so much? Do you ever wonder whether greatness and glory may, you know, kinda miss you altogether, along with fame and an income adequate to help you manage your expenses, and how you’ll never know how miniscule a difference such great fame and wealth woulda played in your life anyway?
I’m sure Marilyn, despite her good run, felt the same at the end of herself, And I doubt that Elton John’s shitty song about her would have helped much.
Why? The Kennedy's? Joltin' Joe DiMaggio? Moving into her 40's?
I hardly think that whole maudlin "Candle in the Wind" shit is adequate to explain her ending.
But what difference does it make how well or poorly I, or Elton J., or anyone else understands it?
Dead is dead and as Buk phrased it, maybe the death of the good and the bad is equally sad.
So too, I'd submit, the famous and pretty and the rest of us although not so much so famous and pretty but who also like being alive, sometimes feel a little sad at the whole dead thing.
One thing we can be sure about, tears of blood are not solely possessed by saints and holy Mary's, mothers of gods.
Sometimes simple Norma Jean's get 'em too.
