Monday, January 11, 2016

"Ain’t that just like me."

Yesterday I made a friend watch the videos for both Blackstar and Lazarus by David Bowie. "It's almost like he's planning the return to his home planet," I joked.

Last night not long after midnight, my sister texted me to tell me that David Bowie - the man who fell to earth - was dead.

I was stunned. I had strange dreams all night, and when I woke up this morning and checked the internet to really confirm the news, I found myself much sadder than I thought I'd be. I'm still sad, if I'm honest. I've cried a little, which seems sort of stupid as I never met the man, but there it is.

I was born in 1981, and so my first introduction to Bowie was Labyrinth. As I got older my mother informed me that the Goblin King was the one singing many of the songs I loved on the mixed tapes she would make. I remember playing Modern Love on my baby-pink tape player - running on batteries - in the back of my mom's car. She, my sister, and I all sang along. As I grew older I would discover Station to Station, Ziggy Stardust, Diamond Dogs... all of it. My sister and I watched The Man Who Fell to Earth, and for a while Voodoo even had the same hairstyle as he did in that film. He was a fascinating character who never truly faded from public consciousness, and the more you learned about him the more interesting he became.

David Bowie was more than just a rockstar. I think anyone who ever enjoyed his work felt that.


We were lucky to have him.

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