Look up here
I’m in heaven
David Bowie – Lazarus
In the early 80’s my love of the Sex Pistols led to Joy Division which led to Bauhaus — particularly their cover of Ziggy Stardust. That led to my discovery of David Bowie. MTV (which stands for Music Television and, ironically, they used to play music videos all day, every day) helped me by playing “Let’s Dance” and “China Girl” on heavy rotation. My father was a huge Jim Henson fan so we saw Labrynth. A good friends’ mother was obsessed with The Thin White Duke and so it goes.
My father was a literary agent and, for the most part I paid no attention to his various clients. One day during my senior year of high school, I came home to find Angie Bowie and my father, drinking, in the living room. Normally my father, who worked from home, set up client appointments so that I wouldn’t see them and they wouldn’t see me. This one must have gone on long, or he planned it knowing Angie would like me.
She stood up from the couch — she is a beautiful woman in person — held out my arms and looked me over. She glowed with alcohol and I’m not sure what else (I’m not implying drugs) but she literally fawned over me. It was very flattering but became weird when she insisted I “absolutely have to” date her son, Zowie. Yes, her son with David Bowie. Apparently he was about 21 and living in London. (I was 17, living in New York, and had a steady boy and girlfriend.) She pulled out what looked like a school photo, obviously a few years old, to show me. He was good looking and when I said so she beamed with pride.
Years later, I found out that Zowie was, at that age, going by his given first name of Duncan (or, “Joey”, depending on your source). He also was not in contact with his mother at that time, so I’m not sure how things would have progressed had I shown an interest in dating her son.
It was also the only time I asked my father not to help publish a book. He pointed out that it would be published whether he was her agent or not.
Years later, I had one of those dreams you remember. I was moving to yet another apartment (I’ve moved a lot in my life) and for some reason was pulling a large amount of records — underwater. I knew I had to get them out of the water and I knew that the various circles of bright light above led to swimming pools (despite being in an ocean with coral and other sea plants). I just had to find the right one.
Out of nowhere, a man appeared and offered to help me. “You’re David Bowie,” I said.
He nodded, pointed towards a circle of light and led us up to the correct — tho crowded — pool. He helped me put the records on dry land (they were in a bin like the ones in record stores, facing forward, alphabetized like my cassettes and cs’s were in real life). He checked them over, and nodded that they were ok. “Call me Uncle Davey,” he said, before diving back into the swimming pool and disappearing below the depths.
Now, I doubt he liked being called, “Davey” in real life, tho I really don’t know. I do know he showed up to help me on a few other dream occasions.
Yesterday I found out about his recently released new album, Blackstar.
This morning I found out he’d died.
And may G-ds love be with you
R.I.P. David Bowie