Blackstar
Just as it does each morning, my alarm woke me at 5AM. Lying in bed on that Monday morning, just before my feet hit the cool floor, I laid in the dark while reading the message in my day's first email. In an emotional awe, I again read and reread the short email over and over, "Have you heard the news about the passing of an absolute genius and legend?" I was stunned. Just hours after I had spent most of the weekend listening to several albums from his classic library, David Bowie was dead.
David Bowie's Blackstar album arrived in the mail yesterday afternoon. This morning I carefully unwrapped the cellophane from the CD and paired it with a fresh cup of coffee for my 6AM commute. I was not disappointed. Blackstar is an album of incredible artistic integrity, beauty, voice, and pure creative experimentation. Plenty has been written following the news of Bowie’s passing about this being his planned farewell gift to his fans. In hindsight, Blackstar certainly plays out in that fashion, and it does so as only Bowie could deliver with genius vision and originality. Blackstar is a masterpiece.
My long commute was nearly the same length as the cd. As I was nearing the campus-parking garage, I noticed the car a good distance in front of me, wondering if what I thought I saw really was. With the red traffic light ahead, I closed the gap between that car and mine. Just as I was the week before, I found myself in awe once again before the sun had a chance to rise. It turns out that my distance vision hadn’t played tricks on me after all. Reading the license plate, I shook my head in disbelief, turned up the music just a bit more, and smiled.
Tokens are gifts. Thank you, Starman.
Ziggy