Stardust: The Life & Times of Sean Neil

Introduction

This is not my story but rather a story of fame and the trials and tribulations that come with the pursuit of fame. To be perfectly clear, this story is not a memoir but rather a work of fiction

The names and events herein are fictional, and I don’t purport any of the following story to be real - and any relation to any person living or dead is merely coincidental.

Somewhere far away, a long time ago

In the beginning there was nothing but blackness - in this dark, empty void filled with swirling gasses whipped about by solar winds. In the middle of this cosmic maelstrom, gravity from an unseen point of origin pulled the gas clouds together until they began taking shape into something more. At first these shapes didn’t look like much to the naked eye but in these clouds of chaos, a sense of order begins to take shape as these new compound balls of gas form hot cores that continue to gather more and more gas and dust until a protostar is formed.

These swirling forces of nature are drawn to the fire and fury at the heart of the growing star itself. As the forces swarm the star fueled by the amount of gas orbiting the young star, a small star will form in its place; if a larger amount of gas is present whipping about the burning core, then a more massive star will form.

The process of star formation takes around a million years from the time the initial gas cloud starts to collapse until the star shines like our Sun. Once the star starts shining, its light rays pour out into the universe and assuming nothing stands in the way to absorb the light, the light shining from the star will continue to travel outward indefinitely.

When we look up to gaze at the stars, they look close even though, in reality, they are much further away. Most of the stars we see at night are actually around 2 to 2.5 million miles away which means that their light takes about 2 million years to reach our eyes. Therefore, when you look at a star, you are actually seeing what it looked like years ago. When we look at stars we aren’t seeing what they are as much as what they were at one time. Looking at stars in the night sky is like looking back in time.

However for as much beauty as stars bring the night sky, their lives are often fraught with unseen forces trying to pull them apart even as they continue to shine. A star's life is a constant struggle against the forces of gravity. Gravity constantly works against the stars - both locked in an unending battle to tear each other apart…and, at some point in this never-ending struggle, the star will exhaust the material in its core for the nuclear reactions that keep it burning. When the star runs out of nuclear fuel, it comes to the end of its life and goes supernova causing its existence to end exploding in a massive, destructive expulsion of force that ripples outward through the universe.

In that way, my life was on a similar course. Many would ask after I was gone, “why”? And many would speculate that the forces just became too much to bear - that I had joined the others before me who burned out before their time. In reality, I had come to the end of my intended life but I was determined to not let my end be in vain.

You see, the thing about supernovas is - once the star burns out, the light from the resulting explosion travels outwards through the universe. Even if the nearest star to Earth’s Solar system goes supernova at a safe distance, be it tonight, in the next decade, or 100,000 years from now — once the light reaches Earth, it will become the most-witnessed astronomical event in human history, visible to nearly all of Earth's inhabitants. Similarly, I wanted to make sure that when I burn out I leave something behind for those that could truly see me, something that makes my life, however short it may have seemed, mean something.

In fact, someone once long ago told me that we as humans share many elements with the stars: that humans and our galaxy have about 97 percent of the same kind of atoms. So, in reality, we are all just made out of bits of stardust trying to find our way in the universe.

In that way, my end is also my beginning. I wasn’t burning out so much as I was going home.

New York City, the near future

I stepped out of the back door of the Cavern Club into the dark alley. The cold winter air stung my sinuses and chilled the exposed skin sticking out from my biker jacket. My friend Clint Connors stepped out into the frigid air with me. I looked at Clint in the dimly-lit alley. Clint handed me a Marlboro light from his open packet and I slid the waiting cigarette out of it’s home with the tips of my forefingers. My lips quivered anticipating the imminent lighting of the cigarette and the initial rush of nicotine into my chilled throat.

From this alley, I can see my penthouse apartment atop The Jewel - the newest high-rise apartment tower to dot the lower Manhattan skyline - but tonight my mind is far away from home here in this alley with Clint.

Clint lifts the lighter to the cigarette and I inhale deeply watching the tip of the cigarette spring to life over the tip of my nose. This moment makes me think about the first time I shared a cigarette with Clint over a decade ago at the end of one of the cul-de-sacs of our perfectly planned neighborhood in a rural California town so unremarkable it doesn’t even warrant mentioning by name. That night the two of us had ridden our bikes to the end of said cul-de-sac bitten by the bitter night cold with a pack of cigarettes stolen from a drunk uncle. Even on that night of adolescent rebellion, the cigarettes tasted of teenage abandon and subversion - a feeling that over time had only become heightened and more focused.

But tonight, I could feel the darkness that followed in my wake sneaking its way into the forefront of my mind, the anxiety coiling around my chest gripping me with the fear that made my hands go sweaty and my pulse race. The darkness was a void I carried around in my chest - a dark, empty void, hollowed out by my climb to where I stood now - a repository for the sins and tragedies that I carried with me in a dark space into which I poured drugs and alcohol in an attempt to drown the parts of myself I hid there far from sight.

I got my first record deal at the ripe age of 18 on the heels of my single “All about the Blues” a self-produced track that got my label’s attention as the result of exposure for my first single on a local radio station.

My latest album “Stardust” was set to release this week and was already poised to open at #1. I had been on a promotional tour promoting the album in the run-up to the release.

The record label wanted to capitalize on the initial success of “All about the Blues” and put me on a grueling global tour almost immediately. I had barely had time to even adjust to this newfound fame before I was hoisted from near obscurity into an almost endless blur of airport lounges, jet lag, and hotels that only made the “darkness” that much darker and the faint glimmering lights of my dreams seem even more enshrouded in the darkness.

I should have been elated, the reviews for ‘Stardust’ were just starting to break and were mostly overwhelmingly positive:

“Pop’s dark prince rises from the ashes to deliver a career triumph.”

“Triumphant, tragic, and timely: Sean Neil finally emerges as a true artistic force to be reckoned with in the industry.”

I took a drag of my cigarette and felt the burn of the tobacco against my throat which is chilled by the winter air.

“Clint, “I said, “let’s get ready to do this.” I’m determined to close out another show and hopefully get some downtime, so I stub the cigarette out against the brick wall upon which I’m leaning and toss the butt into a puddle in the alley. I turn, hands in pockets, to head into the Cavern Club as Clint drops his cigarette into the alley and stomps it out before following me into the door of the club.

We both open the door of the dressing room which has a thick layer of patchouli permeating the room which makes me wince. I take a seat in front of the makeup mirror and then dig into the pockets of my biker jacket. Within moments, I produce a small case, the size and shape of a lima bean. I open the bean-shaped case and then turn the case over to tap out a handful of bright blue capsules into my left palm. I place the capsules onto the makeup mirror in front of me and then reach into my jacket again. I pull out a small amber jar the size of the tip of my forefinger with a black cap.

Carefully unscrewing the black cap, I then turn the jar over onto the surface in front of me gently tapping until white powder comes cascading out into a small mound.

Lastly, I reach into my front pocket and slide out a hundred-dollar bill perfectly rolled into a straw, using my forefingers to tighten the bill I then dip my torso forward onto the makeup mirror surface and inhale deeply making the white powder disappear into my sinuses still stinging from the cold of the alley.

To try and release the darkness’ vice grip on me, I began singing the opening verses of my latest single, “Going Home” - the first track I was set to play tonight.

As I sit up and gaze upon my reflection in the mirror, I see Clint sitting on the couch behind me.

“Buddy, come get some of this before I do it all,” I say to Clint. I then tap out some more of the white powder and then hand Clint the tightly wound bill. Clint leans over me and inhales the white powder and then falls back as the chemicals set off fireworks in his brain.

Not to be outdone, I grab the handful of my blue capsules with my left palm and chuck them into my mouth grabbing the nearby bottle of Jack Daniel’s to wash down the capsules. As soon as the amber liquor touches my mouth it burns and lubricates the capsules carrying them down my throat with increasing urgency. This is the same ritual I’ve engaged in on countless nights in countless backrooms.

A roadie opens the door to the dressing room and informs me that I’m “up”

Clint and I make our way to the stage through the back passageways of the Cavern Club and as we make our way to the stage, I hear the announcer “Ladies and gentlemen...you know him for his hit song “All about the Blues” and his upcoming album, Stardust” and we’re so happy to have him here at the Cavern Club, Soho - please welcome, Sean Neil.”

A sudden surge of adrenaline builds in my gut as I approach and the audience roars to life on the other side of the stage door. I stand ready to take the stage but suddenly a paralyzing force shoots lightning through my body and instead of proceeding to the stage I’m collapsing into Clint’s arms.

“Get some help!” Clint cries out over me. But I’ve already collapsed in Clint’s arms convulsing – with my last ounce of strength, I pull a crumpled envelope from my jacket and push the wadded paper into Clint’s jacket.

“Listen, buddy, you’re going to be fine,” Clint whispers into my ear, but I am already beginning to lose consciousness. As I begin to fold in Clint’s arms, I reach my hand back to cradle Clint's head and say “Let me go, buddy. I just want to go back to Stardust, to Devon, Katrina, and Owen.” This is a moment I’ve felt coming for some time and now that it’s finally here, I’m landing somewhere between fear, relief, and an overwhelming sense of sadness.

Clint, tears streaming down his face says as he holds my lifeless body “you’re already there, buddy, and I’m there in Stardust with you, with Owen, Katrina, and Devon, we’re all there with you.”

“You can go now, buddy.” “Just let go,” Clint says holding me gently.

And, with that, Sean Neil, son of Nowhere, California dies on the floor of the Cavern Club.

Nowhere, California, the near future

The light from the TV silhouettes the modest living room of a house in Stardust Estates a neighborhood in an unremarkable rural California town.

A woman, Darby Neil sits in front of a full ashtray sitting atop a TV table watching the TV, tears streaming down her face.

Darby sips coffee from a chipped, stained coffee mug. Darby’s friend and neighbor Dee Longwood swipes the coffee cup from Darby’s TV table and takes it into the modest kitchen off the living room where numerous floral bouquets line the kitchen island. The kitchen has a bank of glass block - a remnant from the neighborhood’s 80s roots. The glass block shatters the sunlight coming into the kitchen giving the house an eerie feel and punctuating the gloom hanging over the Neil house.

Dee begins opening particle board cabinets thumbing through multiple bottles until producing a bottle of coffee liqueur. Dee twirls open the cap of the bottle and splashes a thimble of coffee liqueur into Darby’s chipped mug.

Returning to the living room and dropping the mug on Darby’s TV table, Dee can hear the local news talking about Sean.

“Sean Neil, a son of our town was found dead at the Cavern Club in New York City, the result of an apparent drug overdose last night...Sean Neil was a local graduate of Sheffield High School and patron of Forest Hills Church and was the multi-platinum artist behind the hit song “All About the Blues,” and the upcoming album “Stardust” the reporter on TV said. “Local vigils are expected at Sheffield High School and Club F on F street in Downtown.”

“Vector Records, Sean Niel’s label has yet to issue a response on the tragic events,” the reporter continued, “ and fellow label-mate Simone Shields who recently performed with Neil at Madison Square Garden was asked outside her concert last night in Mexico City for her thoughts but she only responded with a terse ‘no comment.’”

“Christ,” Dee spits while rummaging through her purse. Dee produces a long cigarette, the kind always on special at the FastFix (the local convenience store that sat just across from the entrance to Stardust estates.

Dee lights up the cigarette and holds it to her lips balancing the cigarette between her chipped nails.

“I can’t believe my baby is gone.” Darby cries.

“At least Sean got out of this town,” Dee mutters attempting to comfort Darby.

“Yeah, but he got out of this town only to die” Darby retorts. “Better than dying here,” Dee replies. Darby winces but Dee attempts to soften the blow. ”It's this town that killed him, it fired the gun long ago and it took until just now for the bullet to hit him’” Darby says.

“Darby,” Dee says, “take care of yourself, I’ll bring over a stew for dinner and as soon as Katrina is off work, I’ll send her over here to take you to the salon and the mall to get you something new for the service.”

This sadly is where Sean Neil’s story ends, but in order to better understand his end, it is better to start at the beginning in his own words.