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I have loved Laurie Anderson from the moment I first laid eyes on her. I'm not even remotely lesbianly-inclined, but even so, she made me want to be a man really badly in that moment. It wasn't an oh-gee-I'd-like-to-be-girlfriends-with-her moment. It was an I'd-like-to-live-with-her, hug-her, tell-her-my-dreams, listen-to-hers moment. It wasn't sexual. It would've been sexual if I were wired that way. It wasn't even her music, which I just love a little of it, and the rest not so much. It was her.

I've come to care more about Lou Reed in later years. Andy Warhol was a putz and anyone around him sort of got that gloss of stupid as far as I was concerned, but I ended up caring about Lou Reed quite a lot. When I found out he'd married Laurie Anderson I was thrilled. It made my day.

Now, I'm sitting here bawlin' my eyes out again.

Laurie, I'm so sorry for your loss. Yes, yes, you hit the jackpot and nothing you never got to do will be much of a shame now, for sure, but, still, I feel for you in a big way. Bless your heart.