Pisces, Aquarius, Capricorn & DeCristoforo Ltd.

 

Susan, as promised, wrote about Mike Nesmith today. It was brilliant and beautiful. It hit all the emotions.

It's tough to bleed like that. I'm quite familiar with it.

I admire the writers and other creators who can just throw something to the world and go, "Meh. That's gone. Don't care."

I care. Susan cares.

You feel exposed when you do this. You're naked. It's a raw nerve. That's not true of everything we create but it is for certain things.

Like discussing the feelings of losing someone and something that has been with you your whole life. 

I've watched her put literally everything into something numerous times. She's written exhaustingly about various topics for different publications, most of all for her beloved Darien Times.

Susan often knocks her musical taste but, in reality, being an aficionado of Mike Nesmith is one of the coolest things about her. She often says my taste is more diverse and deep and so on. Yes, I dig jazz and a lot of other stuff but I'm also nuts.

This is actually a deeper topic and better for another post at another time but, in truth, for all of her pop sensibilities, she was loving The Monkees when it wasn't cool to love The Monkees.

And, specifically, to appreciate Mike Nesmith? He wasn't the charming Micky Dolenz or the "cute" Davy Jones or the happy hippy Peter Tork.

He was distant and difficult and perfectionistic and...cool. Way cool.

He made country rock when the world wasn't quite ready for it. Then along came the Eagles and Poco and the Flying Burrito Brothers and...

While I was honing my ears for The Beatles off my sister's records, Susan was spinning around in the basement of her Staten Island home with Mike, Micky, Davy, and Peter.

There's something cool about doing something that isn't cool. It makes you unique.

Nesmith is only now being viewed as the visionary he way. But, as I told you on Friday, it's Susan's story to tell and I know she obsessed over crafting it.

She can write fast -- trust me -- but something like this has to be sculpted. She finds her analogies along with her paintbrushes and hammer and chisel. From there, the artist goes to work.

No, you're wrong, Susan. Your tastes are cooler than you've ever known and your post today was a master class on honoring your heroes.

You'd be well-served to read the piece.

You'll learn a lot. Not about his mom inventing Liquid Paper or the "easy topics." This is more personal and, well, wonderful.

"My gift in memory of Michael Nesmith is to commit to exploring as much of his music as I can," Susan writes. "I’ve not done nearly enough. I hope he can forgive me for being late."

Nez would forgive, Suze. He'd be honored.

So will you.