You Did NOT Die Today01/11/2016: some words for David Bowie
It’s after midnight now.
On January 11th, 2016.
You did not die today.
And I feel like a total weirdo. Sitting here by myself, sobbing uncontrollably over you. Sobbing uncontrollably over someone that I do not know.
And then, Lazarus comes through my computer speakers.
🎤 look up here, I’m in heaven 🎤
Your music was always before your Time. You were always before everyone else’s. And the best part, while we all wanted to know how you did it, you could never remember that far back. I always wondered if you actually kept a bit of Time in your back pocket. Just because you could.
I am seeing other people’s posts now. About your death.
But you did not die today.
And I think to myself, there’s no way they can understand. There’s no way anyone else can feel this kind of pain that I am feeling. But they do. We all do. You gave all of us ‘weirdos’ permission to be all the way weird.
You Hero of genderfuck.
You Babe of sexuality.
You Starman of the arts.
You Rebel of the redo.
You creator of Changes over and over and over again.
No. You did not die today.
You might find amusement in the fact that I immediately thought you were “pulling a Warhol.” Just because you wanted to out-news the Globes. You probably could do this, ya know. I’ve seen Basquiat.
Except that… you did not die today.
Lazarus has been on repeat now for 45 minutes. Thank you for giving us ‘weirdos’ one last album. It’s really good, ya know. I was counting down its release like most folks countdown to Christmas. So, thanks for the last goodbye.
Some friends are texting me now, to see if I’m okay. I’m not. But one of them reminded me of a memory that made me laugh. I saw you in concert in 2002. I had lower level seats. But nobody was sitting. And it seemed that everybody in front of me was at least 8’ tall. So, I stood on my seat. I didn’t care about security. In the middle of Ziggy Stardust you pointed right at me. I could swear you really did. And it was all I needed. Then, security told me to get down for the 100th and final time. You were funny. And charming. And Kooky. And brilliant.
And you did not die today.
I just watched a documentary on you. A couple weeks ago. It’s not the first documentary on you I’ve seen, but it seemed to have been the most honest. It detailed your Rise of Ziggy. Your desire to be rock ‘n’ roll, not just a rockstar. I love that you never gave a fuck. We all do.
But… you passed away yesterday.
I imagine there are so many of us heartbroken weirdos out here. Doing exactly what I’m doing right now. Listening to you on repeat. Tears streaming down our cheeks. Onto our couch cushions. Landing heavy on our pillowcases. Then, finally, finding their immortal and damp home inside of our headphones. And, finally, into a type of grieving moment none of us will soon forget. Our tears are like you that way. Our pain will not go as quietly as I’ve read that you did. And that’s okay. A lot of us have never known a world without you. It’s going to take some Time to adjust.
And I wish you were here, so we could ask to borrow a bit of your secret stash. But you passed away yesterday. And wherever you might be now, I hope you’re just as weird. Just as King. Just as Fashion. Just as Fame. Just as Ziggy. Just as Duke. Just as Aladdin. Just as Sane. Just as Jareth. You Absolute Beginner, I hope you’re just as fucking happy as I am that you were ever here in the first place.
I love you, David.
We love you, David.
In all of your forms.
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