If this thing about Mark Linkous’ death is true, I feel horrible. This is so unexplainable. Usually, when a person who has achieved some level of fame through their own creativity and genius dies, I feel a small sense of loss. I feel like the world has lost another intelligent individual who will no longer create the wonderful things that he/she might have.
But for some reason, the thought of Mark Linkous being dead shatters me. I don’t know if it’s the possibility that he committed suicide and my new stance on suicide or something about Mark Linkous himself and Sparklehorse. I used to think that suicide is sometimes what you need. Sure, it’s bound to hurt someone who isn’t you, but maybe the pain scales are stacked too high on your side. I’ve recently approached it in a new way, though. Everyone has some contribution to the world, I won’t go so far as to call it a gift, but we all have some place and purpose. I don’t believe I have some great, altering gift, but I do believe that it is in my power to help some people with some menial tasks, that I can search for and retrieve information better than a search engine. Following from this, I’ve decided that suicide prematurely robs the world of future contributions. Now, I should state, while I personally no longer consider it a viable option except in cases of quality of life issues, etc., I don’t judge people who do choose suicide. I just feel a remarkable sadness that they reached that stopping point.
Since I began this post, Rolling Stone has had confirmation from Linkous’ publicist. I still don’t know what makes this so different from say, Alexander McQueen’s death. I know of Linkous through his collaboration with Danger Mouse and David Lynch on Dark Night of the Soul. I know of McQueen through a friend’s love of fashion. It’s a passing acquaintance with the work of two brilliantly creative men in their prime, yet Linkous’ death feels like an ice-cold dagger in my sternum.
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