The Next Day

So, I woke up this morning and walked into the kitchen, and everything just feels different. It is odd, looking back on the last 24 hours, on just how amazing a day it was, not just for the bad feelings. I learnt an awful lot about how my online ‘friends’ dealt with grief, because most of them are not my age or indeed as immersed in music as I am. There was the inevitable ‘how can you grieve the loss of a stranger’ crap from certain quarters but that’s going to be inevitable from anyone without a soul who doesn’t grasp the significance Dave Bowie had on an entire generation of souls who never fitted in to begin with. For those of us who lived and breathed his work? This is gonna be a tough couple of weeks, but there’s a path to follow.

Mostly, a lot of people will be living in the past without any real desire to leave.

Losing someone you care about inevitably brings up memories that you shared, even if the person you’re grieving never actually met you. That’s why people end up as affected as they clearly are over Bowie’s passing: he touched millions upon millions of people’s lives with his music, his art, just by being a metaphor for rebellion. As a result many people will remember the first time they heard Album X or Song Y because it associates with a crucial part of their own evolutionary process. As a result, you become indivisible not simply from the man, but the music too. As friends to sad sacks grievers like me the trick is to listen to the stories and then nudge me past it. Because you don’t live in the past any more, it is dead and gone and to survive and flourish? You need to move forward.

To do that, it’s probably time to distract myself more than usual.


I made this. Well, mostly.

I am reminded of Bond this morning; the modern incarnation’s life is wrapped quite significantly around death, and returns to original canon with the loss of his parents as a child as an indicator of 007’s modus operandi. Because bereavement is such a significant and unavoidable part of existence’s due process, it is amazing to think how so many people aren’t really prepared to deal with mortality better, but part of the point of living is not to concern yourself with anything but that process itself. One of Bowie’s undeniable strengths, right up until the moment he passed away, was understanding what he was, how everything worked around him, and that to be a great artist all you ever needed to do was embrace yourself, both good and bad. There were mutterings yesterday, disapproving noises from those who would argue that a habitual drug taker and bisexual performer will never be a role model. Yeah, we all got that, and we weren’t in love with him because we knew that was right. This man represented all the glorious that was possible when you were bad and wrong sometimes: even he, in the end, could not cheat death. He lived enough for a thousand lifetimes though, and what this just goes to prove is that if you want to taste the real highs, sometimes you have to sink very low to find the true path to redemption.

In that regard, the number of lives he touched is amazing and significant, and should never be underestimated as a result.

Mostly, today I get my house back in order, both physically and metaphorically. Once that’s done I’m going to try my hand at at least one new thing, and make sure that my step count stays as high as it has been to maintain the health momentum for the month. After that? Who knows. We’ll see how things pan out. Things aren’t worse today than they were yesterday, far from it, and the future’s different, interesting without a true innovator within it. Let’s see if anyone is man/woman enough to step up and fill the breach, though I guarantee they won’t ever be an exact fit. It might sound like hyperbole, but to say we’ll never see the like of Bowie again? Perfectly acceptable. They don’t make performers like him any more, because the world in which he was fashioned is dead and gone.

In the future, the challenge is different, and undeniably exciting to anticipate.