I don't know, I guess it had to happen eventually, but no one can ever be prepared for something like this. Back in May when I was in Buenos Aires, I met this kid from Pennsylvania named Jake, and one night when we were out on the town he told me that the day that Johnny Cash dies, the sun is not going to rise. It's something I thought a lot about, and I guess I kinda started to believe it. And then this morning I was early to class and so I went to the library to check my email, and there it was posted on Andrew's blog, and the first thing I thought was that there was no way it could be possible because I had just been outside and the sun was shining through a cloudless sky.
In one of my sociology classes that I had today we spent half the class talking about the history of blues in Mississippi, which was sparked by my classmate Ali asking Dr. Harvey if he knew that Johnny Cash was dead. It's really a terrible reason to learn about the blues, kinda like discovering your new favorite author because he just kicked the bucket. I don't know, I guess Johnny Cash represented so much, like all the faith that I have about how punk rock the elderly can be. Last week Aaron and I were joking about how it's possible that the second coming of Jesus actually did come, in the form of Johnny Cash, but nobody noticed. His inicials support this, along with he being the only person imaginable who should be allowed to sing about Jesus.
It's a black night out because Johnny Cash is dead. I still can't decide if that means that a new star has been born or if an old one has just burned out.