David Bowie

lots of people
are talking about
David Bowie,
as they should

icons, artists,
musical geniuses
like him
seldom appear,
and when they do
it behooves us to
consider,
to reflect

however, i
don’t want to
just say more
words
about Bowie himself . .
plenty are
being said
and by people
with better ones
to say than i

and other than
just now,
i don’t even want
to share my
personal appreciation
or favorite songs
or memories
related to him,
chief of which
is how my
siblings and i
would watch Labyrinth
(starring David Bowie)
often,
happily and repeatedly,
most notably at
our father’s
post-divorce
bachelor pad
on weekends,
our escape into
the fantasy of that story,
perhaps,
no, definitely,
vital at the time

what i do want to do,
however,
is pause to note
an interesting,
real-life
(serendipitous,
hopefully
thought-provoking)
juxtaposition

i heard about
Bowie’s passing
on Monday morning . .
the night before,
i watched the
Golden Globe Awards . .
at said awards,
Jim Carrey,
typically hilarious,
before announcing
nominees for
best comedy,
joking about how
he’s “two-time
Golden Globe winner,
Jim Carrey,”
said this:

And when I dream, I don’t just dream any old dream. No, sir. I dream about being three-time Golden Globe-winning actor Jim Carrey. Because then I would be enough. It would finally be true, and I could stop this terrible search, for what I know ultimately won’t fulfill me.

But these are important, these awards. I don’t want you think that just because if you blew up our solar system alone you wouldn’t be able to find us or any of human history with the naked eye. But from our perspective, this is huge.

playing the part of
the wise “fool,”
smuggling truth
inside laughter,
Carrey took the
Globes as an opportunity
to poke fun at the
whole idea of
awards:
humans congratulating
humans for endeavors,
for fame,
which finally,
in the grand cosmic sense,
is inconsequential,
eventually nonexistent,
ultimately unfulfilling

but despite
sensing this,
joking about it,
we sure do
still try, don’t we?
which brings us
to Bowie

according to
multiple people
in the know,
he spent
what he knew
to be his
last months
creating the
death-obsessed
songs and videos
of Blackstar –
his final album,
released only
days before his death –
as a sort of
“parting gift”
to the world . .
his death,
says producer Tony Visconti,
was “a work of art”
(see here and here . .
and see the poignant,
telling video “Lazarus” here)

in “Lazarus,”
Bowie croons,

Look up here,
I’m in heaven…
Everybody knows me now…
This way or no way
You know, I’ll be free
Just like that bluebird
Now ain’t that just like me

so, is Bowie singing
as himself?
did he truly,
as the song seems
to suggest, see
art and fame
as the pathway to
freedom,
heaven,
Lazarus-like
immortality?

one cannot
say for certain,
of course,
but between
what was known of
him before (plenty),
what is known
of his intentions
for Blackstar,
and lyrics like these,
it seems safe to say
that, yes, he
may have seen it
this way . .
or at least
acted like it

but
so what?
many have seen
it thus for ages . .
and our modern
social-media-steeped
world is nothing
if not a machine
for quick
dopamine-infused
fixes of “fame” . .
Bowie deserves
no indictment,
of course . .
still:
that comment
from Carrey,
sounding like
Ecclesiastes:
“fame and power
are meaningless” . .
so terrifyingly obvious
with but a
moment’s sober thought . .
again though:
“From our perspective,
this is huge.”

bah . .
this is not the place
to be comprehensive . .
only to note the
juxtaposition:
one famous man
orchestrating his
last act of fame –
a bowing at
its altar . .
another famous man,
making jokes at
fame’s expense –
a clown pulling down
the pants of the king
who feeds him

at the very least,
these represent
two ways
of seeing,
two approaches
to fame,
itself just one
(of many)
approaches to
meaning,
ultimate fulfillment,
the end of
“that terrible search”

and though i
won’t simplify
to the point of
asking whether
you’re a
Bowie or a Carrey,
something like that,
hopefully,
is what you’re
wondering

or, hopefully,
maybe you’re
wondering,
whether in fame,
or something else,
what is my hope in
when it comes to
“that terrible search?”
and why is it
that there is
so obviously
a search anyway?
and am i really
undertaking said search?
and doesn’t a search
imply that there is
a specific thing
to be found?
and what is that?
and, . . ? and, . .?

and . . ?