STARNOTES!

Dear Dusty Springfield:

Well, I really do have so much to say to you, but most of it would have to be over a good bottle of Gin, 4 packs of cigarettes, an orgy and the family-size Pepperidge Farm Entertaining Assortment. (Not the 'chocolate' or 'orchard' variety, just the original.)

So I'll just say this: I miss you. I am a little ticked that you didn't write your autobiography before you died, but still... I miss you. Tonight I'm making a tray of yellow cupcakes with pink magnolia frosting and I'm going to eat them all, straight out of the pan, in your honor.

I just need to know if you had a diary or something because I need to read it. I don't know if you understand what kind of position I'm in... we're ALL in. The industry is a mess, Dust, and we need some insight into what made you so intense and campy and major and mysterious. We have lost that fire. Thanks for never flashing your vagina at us. Thanks for making the album 'White Heat' even though no one really ever heard it but me and, like, three other people. Thanks for never letting us into your world before you passed away... actually on second thought, THANKS for not writing that biography as it has let us hold on to the idea of you we all got to enjoy: The slightly creepy, reclusive, irresistible, drunk, druggie, pussy-lovin white woman with soul.

The world could use a little Dusty right now.

Big Soulful Lezzie Love,

PS: You look like a drag queen superhero in the above pic. Loves it.