Thank You, Bowie…

I literally feel sick. No really. I feel awful. I now know what the hell’s been wrong with me the past couple of days. Those horrid headaches, the throbbing pains I have never experienced before. It’s like my body somehow knew that the artist who had been such an influence on my life, my ideas, my own art and work had perished.

David Bowie… I’ve adored you since I was nine years old. Your Best-of album was the first album my parents ever bought just for me to have as all my own. I begged for your albums, and played them constantly, daily, driving my mother in the next room mad! I urged my jazz-dance teacher to play “Fashion” during our warm ups every class period. I always write little snippets of your music and fan-wear into my stories and characters’ clothing; I remember to paint a little of your Ziggy colors into my art; I remember to add a little of your Diamond Dogs style into my makeup and wardrobe daily.

I wanted to meet you. Somewhere in the back of my mind I seriously thought that would happen.

I haven’t been too banged up over any other performer’s, actor’s, or artist’s death. A little sad, sure. A little shocked perhaps, but nothing like this. Holy fuck, I have never gone a day of my life without you in some part of it! Funny thing, when Spotify did my 2015 “Year in Music,” it showed that January 1st of 2015 I started out with you and your song “Fame.”

Since I was nine my favorite song in the whole world, out of every song I have ever heard from every band and artist I can think of, to this day that song is “Under Pressure.” My second favorite song that you wrote was “See Emily Play.” Of course, my name is Emily, and I don’t come across too many songs with “Emily” in them, not especially that sweet and piercing.

Just this last Summer I vacationed in New Orleans, my favorite place to go. In a burger joint/bar I heard “See Emily Play” glitter out from the speakers. I had never been more happily surprised. I took it as a sign to move to New Orleans some day. I still do.

I don’t fucking like this. I almost can’t accept it. But there it is.

Goodbye Bowie… You literally put the imagination in every step I take. Thank you. Thank you so much for existing. Thank you so much for everything you’ve done. Just… Thank you.

P.S. There is no such thing as a “Next David Bowie.” So let’s halt that bandwagon before it begins.

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