David Bowie is a weirdo.
Was a weirdo.
I still can't quite accept the verb tense.
David Bowie died today. Well, yesterday, but I just found out today. And I confess, I've been pretty broken up about it.
Celebrity death is always a weird thing anyway. I mean, it's not like Bowie was a close personal friend. He didn't attend my sixteenth birthday party or send me a Christmas card every year. Still, I feel connected to him.
Natalie Cole died earlier this week. And Lemmy Kilmister last week. Both of those events left me with an "Aww, that sucks, man" kinda feeling.
But not Bowie. It feels suddenly like the world is not the same place today as it was yesterday. A chunk of the foundation is missing, and my child heart doesn't understand how it can go on.
He was more than a musician, of course. Any bibliography or NPR story will tout his multitude of talents, including actor and painter among the many music-related skills. In truth, some of my favorite memories of him are his acting roles, as Nikola Tesla in "The Prestige,"
or John Blaylock in "The Hunger."
A quick scroll down IMDb also lists acting credits in SpongeBob SquarePants and Zoolander. Took himself too seriously, that guy.
His theater debut was as "The Elephant Man," and nothing seemed more fitting. Because he was such a weirdo.
He was "gender-fluid" before that was even a thing. Not afraid to sheath his scrawny frame in skintight catsuits as Ziggy Stardust, or wearing even less, as a Diamond Dog. (Of course, this was the 70s, and heroin-cachectic was tres chic.)
Still, I was only about six years old when Ziggy's star rose. It was a kick, watching Bowie's story unfold in real time, month by month, year by year, as his persona morphed and morphed again. And even at that young age, I recognized a soulmate. Because I'm a weirdo, too. Always awkward, never scoring above a "satisfactory" on "plays well with others" in grade school. Found comfort in portraying "other" on stage (for me it was dance instead of singing, but same diff).
And, as I grew into adulthood, I watched Bowie continue to be himself. He made his own music, his own life, became and remained a fashion icon.
Married the equally otherworldly supermodel, Iman.
One of my favorite memories was of a presentation he did on an awards show -- the Oscars? the Grammys? the Tonys? -- doesn't matter, he was a part of all of it. And he was introduced, simply, as "David Bowie." No qualifiers, not "The actor, David Bowie," or "Our favorite chameleon." No, he was simply himself. And as he walked onstage in a fantastically stylish off-white suit, those crazy mismatched eyes, that not-quite-right smile, the epitome of class, the crowd roared.
True to his weird self, he was an inspiration to the rest of us weirdos to hang in there, that it was OK to be different, as long as we were true about it, and maybe did it with a little bit of style. He made weird cool.
Style.
Class.
Genius.
Weirdo.
Thanks for being you.
