I meant to add something to my last blog post. Whilst stranded, mad, friendless, adrift in a soulless box of a house on the outskirts of Doncaster. A line from a David Bowie song, “Everyone says “Hi!”” Used to rattle around my head . It was a very simple phrase but I took it as a message to myself. The line was, “Don’t stay in a sad place where they don’t care how you are” and I held it to my heart. And I didn’t , I left, got out of town. I woke up to the news of Bowie’s death from cancer at 69 today. I haven’t listened to much of his new stuff (or anyone else’s for that matter)recently but I always found it comforting that he was out there, always a bit edgy, always taking risks. From killing off the Ziggy person at the height of its popularity and then going off to be a soul singer, to experiments in electronica, jungle, being at the forefront of the Internet, whatever, he took risks and didn’t care too much about people ‘getting it’. It could be hit and miss sometimes but the misses were soon forgotten. I really love it when people just get on and do their thing. There was something slightly alien about Bowie, he was a curator of pop culture, picking out the essence of a scene or a sound and making it his own. He reminded me of the Martians from War of the World, peering at humanity from a distance and drawing their plans. I feel like this often, I’m not a partygoer or a socialiser, I don’t brag and show off, I just get on with it. I observe the world at a distance and interpret what is there in my own way. There is so much bullshit and so many bullshitters about (particularly where I live) and the likes of Bowie, Bjork, Captain Beefheart, Lee Scratch Perry, John Lydon, Takashi Murakami, Prince etc who just get on and do / did it regardless fills me with hope. In my own small way I try and do the same thing, wishing for the kind of money and clout that allows me to achieve what I want to. I’ve been feeling this much more acutely of late, having a potentially life threatening illness I’ve become very conciouse of my legacy. I’ve already been struggling to catch up with years wasted through poor mental health and I feel now this sense of urgency even more. I faced Christmas this year without an Iain Banks and a Terry Pratchett to read and now no more Bowie’s . All my heroes are slowly dying off, leaving what? A homogenised assortment of drivel and dross. Sad day, sad world.
Loving the alien