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Jan. 11th, 2016 10:09 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kittydesadeSo. David Bowie.
I didn't believe it for about an hour after the boy told me, and now all I can think is, this isn't right, it's not supposed to be this way. We're not meant to live in a world without David Bowie (Yes I know we managed perfectly well for centuries but dammit.) I don't get how this happened. He's supposed to be here floating around with that little smile of his, showing us all how to be serene in our differences. We're ... I don't know. He didn't die, he just changed incarnations.
I don't get it. I disbelieve. I spent the first hour of the morning disbelieving and then the second hour a sobbing mess on the couch instead of doing my morning routines. Really, it's amazing I got dressed and got something for lunch and got out of the house at all, at this point. I'm kind of amused and touched and comforted to see so many people also going wait, David Bowie's dead? he can't die. he's not mortal like the rest of us.
I've been doing a lot of looking back this morning and boggling at just how much of my writing is influenced by him. (And mostly Labyrinth, to be fair, me and at least a third to half of the girls in the English speaking world around that time wanted the Goblin King to come and take them away.) The entire Sorcerer, Sam, the mysterious gentleman of manners and deep, deep issues who was so very bad for you and yet kind in some peculiar way, who touched you in the core of you and made things all right again and who could break you just as easily, that was all Bowie. And I don't know how to deal with the real-world person being gone, it feels like all that stuff that he inspired in my head should be gone too even if it isn't.
I think, from what I know of him (he was not that cruel in the last decades of his life and I don't think he ever really meant to be although let's face it, he had issues for a while), that he's remind me that what's in my head isn't gone. What I built with his words, his music and his image, that's not gone. And that's how people live on, isn't it? They live on because we remember them and carry them with us, so there's his immortality. GNU Terry Pratchett. GNU David Bowie.
So I'm going to close my eyes, and I'm going to sit down and have a talk with the Bowie in my head who maybe looks more like the Thin White Duke right now, but give it an hour I'm sure that'll change. And we're going to have a good cry, and then we're going to pick up and keep on being weird and bizarre and alien, keep on being proud and confident and defiant, keep on being a rebel. Keep on being a hero.
We love you, David. We always will.
I didn't believe it for about an hour after the boy told me, and now all I can think is, this isn't right, it's not supposed to be this way. We're not meant to live in a world without David Bowie (Yes I know we managed perfectly well for centuries but dammit.) I don't get how this happened. He's supposed to be here floating around with that little smile of his, showing us all how to be serene in our differences. We're ... I don't know. He didn't die, he just changed incarnations.
I don't get it. I disbelieve. I spent the first hour of the morning disbelieving and then the second hour a sobbing mess on the couch instead of doing my morning routines. Really, it's amazing I got dressed and got something for lunch and got out of the house at all, at this point. I'm kind of amused and touched and comforted to see so many people also going wait, David Bowie's dead? he can't die. he's not mortal like the rest of us.
I've been doing a lot of looking back this morning and boggling at just how much of my writing is influenced by him. (And mostly Labyrinth, to be fair, me and at least a third to half of the girls in the English speaking world around that time wanted the Goblin King to come and take them away.) The entire Sorcerer, Sam, the mysterious gentleman of manners and deep, deep issues who was so very bad for you and yet kind in some peculiar way, who touched you in the core of you and made things all right again and who could break you just as easily, that was all Bowie. And I don't know how to deal with the real-world person being gone, it feels like all that stuff that he inspired in my head should be gone too even if it isn't.
I think, from what I know of him (he was not that cruel in the last decades of his life and I don't think he ever really meant to be although let's face it, he had issues for a while), that he's remind me that what's in my head isn't gone. What I built with his words, his music and his image, that's not gone. And that's how people live on, isn't it? They live on because we remember them and carry them with us, so there's his immortality. GNU Terry Pratchett. GNU David Bowie.
So I'm going to close my eyes, and I'm going to sit down and have a talk with the Bowie in my head who maybe looks more like the Thin White Duke right now, but give it an hour I'm sure that'll change. And we're going to have a good cry, and then we're going to pick up and keep on being weird and bizarre and alien, keep on being proud and confident and defiant, keep on being a rebel. Keep on being a hero.
We love you, David. We always will.