Lou Reed

I can't be certain how I first discovered The Velvet Underground and Lou Reed. An avid reader of music magazines and an avid haver of crushes on musicians, it was only natural that they slip in there somewhere. And while they began to fill my iTunes collection (I graduated in 2006, I'm sorry I'm not cool enough to have had them on vinyl first) inconspicuously, the influence began to take hold.

Lou Reed is the reason I still quest for the perfect pair of black jeans.

Lou Reed is the reason that if I have a fantastic day with somebody I love, I immediately put on "Perfect Day" when I get home.

Lou Reed seems like the only person I didn't have to explain bouts of depression too. I just put on some VU and things started to feel like home. Things would freeze and I'd have time to re-group. Maybe this is why I feel the need to immediately find them in any jukebox I encounter. Feeling lost in a crowd, I can pop in a dollar and pick a few of their songs and feel less anxiety ridden. I could even feel good.

But if you're tired and you're sick of the city
Remember that it's just a flower
Made out of clay, oh, the city

Where everything seems so dirty
But if you're tired and you're filled with self-pity
Remember that you're just one more

Person who's there

Lou Reed is the reason why I hear "Sweet Jane" in my head every time I open up a pack of cigarettes. 

Thank whatever deity for The Velvet Underground. They help uncool kids with predilections for poetry feel just a little cooler. 

Lou Reed is the reason I bothered to write this shitty blog today. I haven't written much (excuse me while I replay "Oh! Sweet Nothing" for the third time) and it has been a sore spot for far too many months. The best artists inspire while simply doing their own thing. 

Thanks, Lou; for the music that was the friend I always wanted around when I just wanted to be alone. Or take a walk on the wild side. Or cool it down. 

It was a pleasure.