While Bowie didn’t write the detailed narratives of Springsteen, his phrases cut through my mind and they stuck. His melodies carried me on a cloud. He was with me through so many key moments—helping me, informing me, making me feel as comfortable as an angry adolescent could be—and he gave me the vocabulary to be open about being gay.
The one screenplay that I always wanted to write, but never did, would’ve been titled “Ziggy Played Guitar.” It was going to examine a sexually confused and drug-addled young man who got swept up in glam rock and found his identity. I noodled on it for years, so much so that Billy found the sheet music, framed it, and painted tiny lightening bolts all around the perimeter.
David Bowie changed everything, for me and for the world.
We’ve got five years, stuck on my eyes.
We’ve got five years, what a surprise.
We’ve got five years, my brain hurts a lot.
We’ve got five years, that’s all we’ve got.
