Rest in Peace Carmen March(?) 2015 - August 23 2016
Carmen was a good little girl and has an interesting little back story. I needed a female companion for neutered Dallas, so I went to the store and asked for the feeder female that had been there the longest. They showed me Carmen, who was so untame that she was able to evade people’s hands when they reached in for feeders. As a result, she was there for several months.
I managed to catch Carmen and brought her home. I needed to set up her QT cage and I put her in a tiny temporary cage while I was putting her toys in. I had just started and I turned to look at her and I noticed she was gone. I had turned away for 5 minutes. I spent the next 20 minutes searching for her. I finally yelled “Where in the world are you?!”. I turned and there she was, sitting on top of the small cage. I decided then, her name was Carmen SanDiego. It fit her perfectly.
Carmen eventually became tame, as most scared mice do. She also loved her cage mates. She was such a good girl and she loved to take treats from people. Later in life, she suffered from eye issues, but she never let it stop her from loving life. She enjoyed hammocks and would often climb up and sniff the top of the cage to try and figure out what you were doing. Because her eyes became so poor, I believe her nose became much stronger. I miss this sweet girl. She was a sweetie pie. I was hoping that she would get to live with Cyrus for the end of her life. But we just missed it. But I don’t think she had a bad life at all.
Dez Dickerson and André Cymone: Why these early Prince collaborators joined the Revolution’s tribute concerts
André Cymone wasn’t ready. He didn’t want to participate in a tribute concert to Prince, his childhood friend and former bandmate.
“It was way too soon,” he said, recalling a phone call this spring from Bobby Z, drummer for Prince & the Revolution. “Bobby doesn’t take no for an answer. He asked me four or five [different] times. I asked my crew [his kids]. They called him Uncle Prince.”
Cymone agreed to get involved with three concerts by the Revolution this week in Minneapolis.
Cymone, who grew up in Minneapolis but moved to Los Angeles in 1985, had to do some homework before he joined rehearsals in L.A. He had to learn the songs — the bass (the role he played with Prince), guitar and lead vocal parts because he didn’t know what would be asked of him.
He also had a confession to make: After he left Prince’s band in 1981, Cymone stopped listening to Prince’s albums.
“I never heard ‘Controversy,’ ‘1999’ and ‘Parade’ till four weeks ago,” he admitted. “I was blown away. His personality — his jokes — is all over that stuff.”
Cymone has plenty of stories to tell, including how Prince left his autograph on a basement vent in the house on Russell Avenue N. where he lived with Cymone’s family during high school. And the signature is still there.
On Aug. 13 at an invitation-only memorial service at Paisley Park, Cymone told some childhood stories about Prince. On Sept. 20, Cymone will release an EP, “Black Man in America.” In 2014, he performed at First Avenue to promote “The Stone,” his first album in 29 years.
“Prince and myself, we had our issues,” said Cymone, 58. “But we always came together. He’d call me before ‘Sign o’ the Times’ and play it and ‘what do you think?’ I had a song called ‘Let’s Get Crazy’ with Evelyn ‘Champagne’ King and he called and said ‘I got a song ‘Let’s Go Crazy.’ I don’t want you to think I took it from you.’”
While Cymone last talked to Prince in 2014, guitarist Dez Dickerson, who joined Cymone in Prince’s band in 1978, talked to the rock star three weeks before he died. Prince called him to talk business.
Dickerson, 61, who has a marketing company in Nashville, was en route to his fourth-grade stepson’s parent/teacher conference when his cellphone lit up with messages like “Is it true?”
“We found out what happened by googling,” Dickerson said of Prince’s death. “I had to excuse myself during the meeting to do two interviews from the school parking lot.”
Dickerson, who also rehearsed with the Revolution in Los Angeles — Melvoin replaced him in the band in 1983 — thinks the First Avenue concerts will have a higher purpose for the musicians and the fans.
“My feeling,” he said, “is you can’t keep from seeking catharsis in times of sorrow or tragedy — or anything unexpected.”
Before a note was played, they talked. And talked. And talked.
“It was pretty much nonstop for a month. Texting and phone calls, conference calls. Endless talking,” drummer Bobby Z said.
“We’ve been talking more than we’ve ever talked in the past 20 years,” guitarist Wendy Melvoin pointed out.
Four days after Prince’s death on April 21, the five members of the Revolution, his band from his 1980s “Purple Rain” heyday, gathered in Minneapolis. They pledged to do something together. They continued to communicate from their respective homes — three in California, two in the Twin Cities — and this week they will play three sold-out concerts at First Avenue.
The Revolution last reunited in 2012 for a benefit for the American Heart Association at First Avenue after Bobby Z nearly died of a heart attack. That night there was a guitar left onstage for Prince in case he wanted to show up. He never did. The reunion this time will be different.
“We were celebrating Bobby being alive,” Melvoin said, “now we’re mourning a death.”
All five Revolutionaries — guitarist Melvoin, drummer Z, keyboardist Lisa Coleman, keyboardist Dr. Fink and bassist BrownMark (Mark Brown) — got on a speakerphone during a recent rehearsal in Los Angeles. Melvoin, the youngest at 52, dominated the conversation, with Z, the oldest at 60, speaking up regularly. The other three contributed but they weren’t the loudest voices in the room. One thing was apparent: The leader was missing.
This is a tribute of “Gung Ho”, which will be printed in the third volume of the comic. I met Thomas for the first time at the Amiens-Comic-Festival and he asked me afterwards if I would draw a tribute for the next book. And so I did. These are the characters Zack and Yuki having a good time. What I like about the book and what I wanted to illustrate is that there are those quiet beautiful moments, where the humans forget the danger which is hovering above them everyday.
Alan Rickman, Ninth Glenn Gould Prize Gala (2012).
“Alan did, however, leave us a parting gift. He generously agreed to narrate a video for The Glenn Gould Foundation which sets out the future course for the organization. Post-production work on the video was completed just two days ago, and as always, Alan’s delivery of our message was perfectly delivered, brilliantly modulated, and simply unforgettable. We’re truly saddened that we will not have the chance to share the final results with him, and to thank him properly for his support.”