From Gawker to Nymag we’ve been reading about how wonderful ‘our’ boy Dash was. How much he lived a ‘pained’ life while detoxing in St Barts, that he didn’t choose his influential and well powered family (the same way a blue collar son doesn’t choose his blue collar father…) and how his semen splattered art was ground breaking and that he was destined to produce more stellar work.
The truth is we really don’t care how brilliant, photogenic or funny Dash ever was, we only cared about seeing him get on with the job.
We all live traumatized conflicted existences, it’s called the human condition. There are many ways to navigate that terrain. One can make money, make good government, wonderful inventions and also wonderful art.
For a while Damon chose the latter, and then he coped out – and frankly we’re pissed he did. Real pissed ‘cause we liked him, but we aren’t going to make into a matyr.
Let’s give some love and credit to those of us who are still hanging and pushing the envelope. Being a ‘druggie’ no matter how talented you are wears thin after a while.
Dash – we still wish you were with us, but we refuse to make you our next Michael Jackson matyr!