After the show, they managed to get backstage expecting to see the icon himself.
But Leonard was tired and had gone to bed.
Adam and Dan sat in a backstage party eating the hummus from Cohen’s rider.
He died last year. Or the year before. I really don’t remember.
And then I was listening to David Bowie while walking in a supermarket car park last night. I remembered how when Bowie died — and despite my personal love for his work — I didn’t feel sad at all.
Actually, what I felt was that David Bowie was an app whose content I would no longer receive.
Eating Leonard Cohen’s hummus. Sunsetting the business model of David Bowie. Staring at the three haloes on a supermarket car park light thinking about what Kerouac wrote: “Whither goest though, America, in thy shiny car in the night?”
Walking home, an old man on a push bike cycled past me and waved. And although it seemed so commonplace, making his brief acquaintance filled me with joy.
Life really is sublime, I thought as I opened the door to my house where my baby was asleep and my wife lay on the bed, almost asleep herself, scrolling through her phone.