I have to admit, it took me about one week to be able write about David Bowie's death. I got the news while having breakfast and then I needed to pour away my now salty coffee because of my tears. I kinda cried for two days straight. David Bowie was a major inspiration in my life, and I would for sure be a different person now without him. I was - and, to be frank, still am - so shocked about his death. I have been listening to his new album Blackstar all day long since it came out, so his passing was like a punch in the face.
If you read this blog, you probably have a faint idea of what I owe to him - now that he's gone, the world feels kinda emtpy and less glitter-y than before. I was really carried away by sadness, as many others, and I am amazed by the reactions to his death. It is incredible what he meant to us - how he helped us through our lifes. He was a god, basically, who helped me so much to celebrate weirdness and always cheered me up with his bold costumes and unbelievably beautiful music. I was a lonely teen once, kind of lost in the peer pressure and the constant coolness-competition that school seemed to be like. Through his music I gained enough power to make my way out of a pressuring system, enough love to be happy about myself, enough inspiration to start this blog and finally got more creativity in my life again. Dressing up to his songs in the morning, I started wearing eccentric clothes and covering everything in glitter. At night, I listened to his records and drew lightning bolts on my face. His song "Rebel Rebel" was the soundtrack to my teen years, and songs like "Space Oddity" or "Oh! You pretty things" will never lose their beauty. Over the years, he became my most important source of inspiration.
I wish I could put in words what he meant to me.
Bowie teached me to be the person I am today, encouraged me and his influence can be found in every aspect and facet of my life - my clothing, my art, my philosophy. He's like pure inspiration from head to toe: his androgynous style, his make up, his ability to re-invent himself constantly.
I kind of thought he was immortal because an alien like him, such a god among us, could not simply die. He always seemed like some sort of supercool alien who visited our planet and gifted us with the most beautiful sounds of the universe. So now that he's gone, I deeply hope that he's having a safe journey in his rocket ship back to whatever star he came from. He has always been the prettiest star.
Last thursday, I went to Berlin Schöneberg and visited the house where he lived with Iggy Pop. It was the only right thing to do for me, laying a rose in front of the door he walked in and out and just standing there paying him tribute. I stood there for about a hour in the cold air of Berlin and just cried my eyes out. So many people were there and thought of him which made me feel a bit better as I wasn't alone with my sadness. I talked to a old punk woman who even met him a few times in Berlin in clubs and bars and we cried together and hugged and talked about what he meant to us. She told me that nothing on earth really just leaves, but actually only changes into something different, and I thought of Bowie now being sound and vision.
