David Bowie holds a really soft spot in my heart, since I listened to his hits on my road trip with a girl I thought I was going to marry to Ann Arbor, Michigan.
I'm not sure why, in college, everyone goes through a Bowie stage. He wasn't incendiary with lyrics or combative punk rocker. He was just a starman coming down to tell us tales of his travels through space and time. Oh, right, the drug thing probably was why we loved Bowie so much.
His music has a freedom to it that compliments the open road. It bops along the Ohio countryside where we could wail our lungs out to the passing cows. A celestial calling of...wide open fields. Your mind becomes calm and you feel all is right. It is strange that such an ethereal man could be so dead. Brought back to Earth by cancer. The elements that we have here consumed him.
His music lives on in my heart back in college. A retro love tale now that exists in a memory fogged by years, but never forgotten with nostalgia.
Perhaps, he isn't dead, but the Mothership returned for him. That's what I'd like to think.
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