bowie, you made it okay to be weird.


Tears gently roll down my cheeks as I write this, my vision blurred - so blurred it's as if I'm driving through a monsoon with broken wipers. Bowie, before you disappear behind the pearly gates and take rock n roll to heaven, I wanted to say thank you. I'm not sure whether I would have ever found out who I am without you being you, and I'm not sure I would be able to suppress my worries or fight my fears if it weren't for your voice; your songs. I've looked up to you since I was a kid. It was the red hair, the fashion, the style, the talents and the cool. You were you, and that is rare. Yet I wanted to say thank you for something else, one of your songs on Hunky Dory, the song you wrote to your little boy, the song 'Kooks'. I'm terrified of my daughter growing up, worried about the world, her world, worried about how to keep her innocent and happy and safe and wonderful, panicking about school and life's hurt and the pain that's out here. These worries won't stop. Never. I know that now. All I can do is let her be a kid, encourage her, and never push her into growing up, or push her at all. It may not be the most intricate advice but it is the most reassuring words a parent can ever hear, so thank you. Now go and shake up the afterlife, give 'em a show, give 'em Ziggy, give 'em you!

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As a shameless opportunist, I'm going to use this footer area to remind you that I am a NUMBER 1 BEST-SELLING author, which means  you should probably go and buy my books, or my super-duper-rubbish artwork, or at least very least come back every 6 months to make all this sort of worthwhile. (I realise this totally contradicts the self-deprecating message of my website, but my imaginary agent said I should put it down as an afterthought. So I have. Happy now imaginary agent?)