I Want to be David Bowie

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I want to be David Bowie. Seriously, who doesn’t? The man is from another planet, another world, across the universe and turn left at the old oak tree. He holds the universe in his head. He can see the past, present and future as he creates it.

I imagine he has his own gravitational pull. It’s enormous, and as he passes you on the street you feel the fluctuation in the Earth’s gravity as the planets and stars and moons in his universe orbit and collide and die and are born. Sidewalks buckle under the weight of his universe, oceans part. Glass bends and time is relative and rippling. No wonder he doesn’t like to fly.

What must it be like to have this vast cosmos ever circling and changing inside his head. What is it like to know the future and to move the past. As an avid fan and listener and believer and worshiper for the past twenty years or so; I feel as though he has been telling us all along.

For me, it started with The Labyrinth. I was only two when it came out, but I remember watching it young and throughout my preteen years I was obsessed with Jareth – and who the hell was this Sarah idiot to deny the Goblin King? Are you kidding me? Who saves a baby over a chance at eternity with the incomparable Mr B?

Then I became Ziggy Stardust.

No I really was Zig.

Just like anyone else who has ever taken in that album as I did – we have all been Zig. An alien rock n’ roller here to change the world but can’t take the pressure of it, we can’t bear the pain of the whole wide world but we have to carry on. For years I was wearing chandelier earrings to high school and college classes on the daily. Daydreaming about rock n’ roll suicide and wanting the palm tree platforms so badly I was ready to carve them myself. I didn’t – but still – someday…

As I have faced the inevitability of aging, maturing (I really kind of hate that word), learning and expanding my mind (cosmically and existentially – not chemically) – I have grown to love the many different Bowies. I have always loved his big hits from his crazy discography. I embraced the 60s pop hits of Davy Jones, the shark suited hits of the 80s and sh*t, I am still f*cking afraid of Americans; but I could never love anything as much as the 70s albums (of which there are eleven).

Now I get it – I just wasn’t ready yet. I wasn’t ready to let Mr B open my mind and show me the future. He has been telling us all what it is all about for decades now. We just haven’t been ready to listen. We each carry his crazy universe of black holes violently tearing apart and consuming anything and everything around them, of stars being born and exploding with nuclear energy and planets and moons and matter and anti-matter.

I want to be David Bowie dammit.

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Day Twenty Seven

jareth

With our upcoming move – we have decided to start selling our things. This has been under discussion for some time now – the amount of stuff we have is not hoarders crazy, but enough that it feels like a heavy weight on our shoulders – holding us back. We’ve had some serious dialogues about selling everything over the past few months – but today,, for the first time, it really hit me. I hate our stuff. I mean don’t get me wrong, I love how our home looks, I love a lot of the individual pieces of furniture, I love a lot of the books, cds and movies we’ve kept after several downsizings, it’s just that I hate how tied to our current location all the stuff makes me feel. It really is a weight holding us to this plot of the earth.

I want to be many people by the end of my life. I want to live many places. Sometimes I feel like that creepy garbage lady in Labyrinth – you know when Sarah ends up in what she thinks is her room after the ballroom/party hallucination? It’s like I’ve always been collecting it & carrying it on my back. God I love that movie. David Bowie….mmmm….Our stuff needs to go.