A year ago, one of my favorite musicians passed away. Peter Steele.
I left rambling post on this blog that night. His death had a surprising affect on me. I cried. I have never cried for anyone famous before. Micheal Jackson dies, I don't react. Dio passes, and I am grateful he was no longer in pain. But Peter Steele's death struck home.
His age was one reason. 48. My husband is 45. I just turned 40.
What he died of. Heart Attack. That is a killer in my family. I may have lost a 100 pounds, but I am no where near my goal. So that hangs over my head.
And his music.
Type O Negative was a gloom metal band. Most of their songs dealt with death, and the lost of love. I found their music when I needed to find it. I was at a point in my life were I could not listen to pop music. It did not hit the emotions I was feeling. Most bands songs were too happy for me. I could not listen to country. I needed something that spoke to me. And Type O Negative did.
He was an influence on me. It was Type O Negative I was listening to, while I tried to sleep during the day, when I had that dream of Steopa. I used Peter Steele as the physical basis of Steopa (to be fair, almost all my characters physical traits are influenced by musicians and/or actors). Among their fans, I made friends that have lasted for a long time. When he died, some of us that had not talked for a for years, found each other.
We will miss him. He did inspire a lot of musicians, artists, and writers. For someone that was not a pop star, or in the public eye at large, his reach was further than you would have expected. He's gone, the rest of the members have gone on to other bands; Seventh Void, A Pale Horse Named Death. Time moves on. A giant is gone and we will miss him.