Ziggy Stardust was one of the first records I ever bought with my own money. I listened to it probably a thousand times.
As a young queer girl in the middle of nowhere Massachusetts–one who didn’t even know she was queer at the time, just different–Ziggy filled a hole in me that other music never did. It cast my eyes outwards to the stars and made me feel connected in a way few other people ever did.
As a young writer, Bowie made me realize just how infinite the universe was and how infinite creativity can be if you just open yourself to the experience. If you listen to the inner universe and the one in which we live.
I drifted away from Bowie as I got older and other music caught my attention. That’s just growing up. And yet… I always went back. I didn’t like every track, of course, but it was all compelling. I could go five, ten years without hearing any Bowie except what played on the radio and then something inside would go, “Psst! Go check on Bowie. See what he’s doing these days,” and I would. And he would suck me into his new sound almost every time.
There’s going to be a ton of writing about how he revolutionized music (which he did), and how he ruled fashion by creating it (which he did), and even more about how he impacted the creativity and lives of millions of people around the world (which he did). I’m not going to stand out in any respect because his impact on me was the same as it was on millions of other: incalculable and unique.
He was relentlessly creative, forever embraced the new, and lived the kind of life we all should: his own. Bowie achieved the best life he could and, in doing so, reached a kind of Nirvana. He’s out there in the Universe now and Earth is left with his incredible legacy.
I’m going to miss the hell out of him.