The Love We Make 2: It's 1992 and the world is bewildered by recent headlines.
"His Royal Badness Prince is now MARRIED with a SON, and the boy is already 3 YEARS OLD! Was he really hiding the kid this whole time? Or is this sudden marriage hid...
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What happens is when two lovers stare at one another without speaking so long the separation between them disappears and they become One.
One What?
...
During sunset of the Act I Tour while battling a sore throat that turned out to be from bronchitis, I did a gig at the DNA Lounge in San Francisco after the city's last show—against my fiancé's wishes. Went on stage around 2-ish and played somewhere over an hour and under two. My voice was raw. Every swallow still felt like a porcupine wiggling down my throat. But the night went well. The game wasn't to show off or anything. This was my favorite form of chill. Just jamming for the people, doing my part in the world.
I don't know if it was rapid Karma or if I truly exacerbated my illness, but on my way back to the hotel, my chest started hurting and my body began to shut down. In the backseat alone, I didn't say a word to the two men up front. I thought it was anxiety. Letty is gon' kill me when she gets this tape. The obvious options were to catalogue it myself or ruin it after I listen. But I told myself I'd just tell her.
Once we got to the hotel, it took a few minutes for me to get out of the car. The door was opened but I wasn't getting out. Leaning over with my head between my legs and hands over the back of my neck, Duane was growing scared. This was more than just tired because I couldn't even verbally respond to his concerns. Red flags waved and before I knew it, he was on the phone calling for a doctor. The night started glitching from there.
He and Dylan I assume are the ones who practically carried me through the kitchen of the hotel to the elevator up to my suite. At some point in there, I blacked out.
I had been sick before but it never got to the point where I was certain I was dead. The pain from breathing was too much so I just stopped breathing—or so I thought. In my head I said to myself, "Wow. This is it, huh? This is how you're going out? A deceiver?"
They say when you die you see a white light and your life flashes before your eyes. I didn't see any of that. I was in the dark afraid that the void around me was a reflection of my soul. How selfish of me to leave Ace without a father again? To leave Letty and our unborn child alone? To go from a life on the run with music to a life of structure wasn't something easy. It was inevitable for me to screw up a few times but this was the biggest wake up call. I nearly killed myself just to get a jam in with the boys.
Down for a very long count, I was bedridden. Whenever I got up to use the bathroom, I was a quarter cognizant. My doctor was in and out and so was his female nurse. Life was blurring by. Then came a moment where the sound of a woman hurling pulled my eyes open.
In bed, lying chest up, I noticed I wasn't alone. Letty was on a sofa in the corner. Far, yet, with me. She was sick too but for a reason that gave me joy. Still, she was sick and she was here when just recently she wasn't. She was supposed to be in Minnesota. I wanted to call out her name, ask a question or two, apologize for lying to her about going out to the club...but I still had no wit. I had no voice. I drifted off again.
