Laughing at a juggler on TV

One of the most pertinent stories I have ever heard is of when my friends Adam and Dan went to see Leonard Cohen perform on one of his last tours.

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.