Michael Stipe and Albert Camus
Live to the point of tears
Today is the 66th birthday of the multi-dimensional artist Michael Stipe. I feel very privileged to count him as a true friend as well as someone whose revolutionary work I’ve been continually inspired by. I wrote of him in Bread of Angels, and truly count him as an angel in my life. He called me, yet a stranger, on Valentine’s night in 1995, after my husband died. He offered to be my Valentine from afar and we have been friends ever since.
Today is also marks the 66th anniversary of Albert Camus’s passing. Michael was born in the same year on the same date. So I am thinking of them both. So perhaps read a bit of Camus and listen to some of the great REM songs with lyrics by one of the greatest wordsmith’s in contemporary music.
We wish a happy birthday Michael Stipe and blessings on his parent’s for having him.
We salute Albert Camus, a master, who counseled us “To live to the point of tears.
Sorry everyone. It's 66 for both fine men. I was still operating in a 2025 mode....
Thank you Thierry....
Reading your post, I kept thinking about how certain words can’t undo loss, and yet can still save—Michael calling you, still a stranger, on that Valentine’s night, offering to be your Valentine from afar.
Camus wrote in The Plague that even in a time of pestilence there are more things to admire in people than to despise. He was taken so abruptly in an accident, and the sentence feels even more precious.
Then I went to R.E.M., to “E-Bow the Letter.” In the video, your silhouette and voice become a real presence at the end, the red empty chair turns tangible—and your “I’ll take you over” feels like the same gesture: a hand offered across distance. Thank you for this quiet guidance today.