Day 26 and I could cross the finish line of my #50tunesfor50years venture with nothing but Bowie. Sound & Vision, Low, Hunky Dory, Young Americans, Station To Station, The Next Day, Blackstar – each masterpieces that hourly rotate at the top of my favourite Bowie albums. Ask me to choose one track and I would be equally reticent to declare, feeling a sense of unfaithfulness as I attempted to choose one over the other. How can one choose when each comes with an accompanying a memory, a mood, a moment I’d find hard to be without.
When I woke to the headlines that morning in January 2016 I was struck with an immense sense of disbelief, dumb at the idea that man who had so much more to enlighten me with was no more, never to create again. I had only begun to shield my eyes from the shining Blackstar and then in a moment, he was gone. And for a reason only known to some distant first encounter with David I wanted only one thing in that moment. An ice-cold glass of milk. And a day of sorrow. And as the day past and I found myself asking where the fuck did Monday go I kept returning to the Cracked Actor, to the man who fell to earth and brought me sweet, sweet things alongside sorrow.
There will be more Bowie in this #50tunesfor50days. I can’t not. But the choice, like the man, will change over and over in my mind. Because for in Bowie this Asperger’s lass had a kindred spirit, an ever-changing, even overthinking, wonder who, no matter what he created, continuously confirmed that it was okay to be a kook, a geek, a freak, even a scary monster. He was and will always be the diamond dog that made this 50-year-old life shine. Laughing gnome and all.
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