Dolly Left Us One Last Song and We Can’t F@#king Have It
Filed under grievances we will be keeping until 2045. And under love. Mostly under love.
A note from Lawrence
The Gay High Council would like to lodge a formal complaint, through tears. Dolly Parton is gone, and somewhere in Pigeon Forge a finished Dolly song sits sealed in a time capsule until 2045. She told everyone it was really good. She also said, “I don’t know whose damn idea that was.” Dolly, honey. It was yours.
Then the reverence, which is most of this piece: what she was to queer people, from losing her own look-alike contest to a drag queen to never once flinching when loving us out loud cost something. Grief usually means there’s nothing left to wait for. She fixed that in advance, the way she did everything.
