Moonage Daydream: A Fan’s (Me) Love Note to Another Fan’s (Brett Morgen) Masterpiece

September 17, 2022 by missparker0106

I am so grateful for experiencing “Moonage Daydream” yesterday (Sept. 16) at a local iMax Theatre. It’s something I will never forget for many reasons. For one thing, it brought me out of a self-imposed exile; I can count on one hand the number of movies I’ve attended in the past 20 years, but was determined to not allow my fears and inadequacies to keep me from seeing this one. So, when matinee times were announced, I selected one that proved to be a great choice for someone like me who can’t tolerate crowded spaces, as there were fewer than a dozen people in attendance. Most importantly, it brought me a joyous, insanely intense sensory experience leading me closer to knowing and understanding the man who helped to shape and ultimately save my life over 40 years ago.

Let’s get the very minor concerns with the film out of the way. First, it ended (with the exception of references to Blackstar) in the 90s. The aughts were barely mentioned, if at all. The other concern is that to a casual fan, or someone learning about Bowie, the “The Man Who Fell To Earth” clips interspersed throughout the film could be very misleading. Without a point of reference, they could be misconstrued for actual clips of Bowie’s day-to-day life. His life was bizarre enough during that period without adding any more to it. But again, just very minor blips. Overall, it was absolutely sublime.

“Moonage Daydream” Trailer

My expectations were simple: to spend 140 minutes with the man who helped show me the way through a world in which I felt alienated, and to fully absorb everything offered. Brett Morgen, the film’s creator, masterfully and poetically shares the essence of Bowie with us in an artistic and gorgeous manner. Morgen allows us to remember and experience Bowie in a personal way by providing us with visuals and music that help us along that special journey. We are free to recall and re-live in our own unique fashion.

If, on the other hand, you’re expecting a documentary in the true sense, don’t waste your time. Go back and re-watch “David Bowie: Finding Fame,” or “David Bowie: The Last Five Years” or any other number of films that surfaced shortly after his death. There, you can find numerous friends and musicians who self-congratulate on how important they were to Bowie and his music. Here, in “Moonage Daydream,” the focus is strictly on the man himself.

Prepare to be emotionally overwhelmed from the onset. Two minutes into the film, all it took was glimpses of Ziggy to get my tears flowing. I was both grateful and disappointed the theater was pretty much empty: Grateful, because I didn’t feel awkward crying or singing quietly along, and disappointed because I really want this film to be a blockbuster. There was so much to take in that this is definitely something to be viewed and embraced over and over again in order to absorb all the film has to offer.

Brett Morgen is a genius for being able to artfully cram in as much of Bowie’s 50-year career as he did within the time constraints he had. Let’s face it: commercially, a longer film would flop immediately in a society where people worship sound bites. I never once looked at my watch and was the only one who stayed until the credits ended (which I highly recommend), but it was easy for me because of how much I love and respect Bowie, and how much I enjoyed and appreciated Brett Morgen’s film.

In closing, I have to say I don’t quite understand those who claim to be disappointed in this unique and artistic visual statement. A question for the naysayers: What if you were given the chance to sit with Bowie face-to-face for 140 minutes while he talked about his life? Would you walk away dismayed and dissatisfied because he may have missed a story here and there due to time constraints? Would you complain to your friends that Bowie’s conversation was disjointed and underwhelming?

No, I didn’t think so.

Experiencing David Bowie Through His Friends and Former Bandmates

March 23, 2019 by missparker0106

On Friday night March 15, 2019, my friend Sharon and I had the great pleasure of attending “A Bowie Celebration” at the Ponte Vedra Concert Hall in Ponte Vedra, FL. This was actually our second time in attendance, with the first exactly a year ago at the Plaza Live in Orlando.

I am so grateful that we decided to attend the event once again. Something felt a bit “off” last year–in fact, after comparing notes with fans who attended in Ft. Lauderdale a year ago, it seems the Orlando show was abruptly cut off, making it about 30 minutes shorter than the South Florida performance. It still rated very highly with me, and the line-up of musicians was brilliant.

The same can be said for this year’s performance. March 15’s show featured Mike Garson, Carmine Rojas, Lee John, Charlie Sexton, Earl Slick, Bernard Fowler, Corey Glover, and 2 wonderful back-up vocalists/percussionists Naia Kete and Imani Elijah.

Sharon and I arrived an hour early for the meet and greet, but instead of being bored, we met some wonderful new friends (Jana, Kiera, and a fashionable, very cool couple who drove up from Vero Beach), and Carmine Rojas came outside just to chat. He was warm and friendly and made us feel so welcome after a LONG (nearly 3 hours in traffic) drive.

When the time finally came, the VIP group (about 8 of us) were invited in for special swag (T-shirt, tote, pins, laminate badge and signed poster) and to witness the sound check. It’s hard to find the right words to describe the elation at seeing the band honing their craft onstage. These were people who had actually performed with David Bowie, or were super fans themselves who wanted to honor his music. We were allowed to watch the rehearsal/soundcheck for about 30 minutes. Then, Mike Garson and Carmine remained onstage as the others retired to their dressing rooms. I have to admit I was a bit disappointed, because I really wanted to meet Slick, Sexton, Fowler, Glover, et al. But the warm welcome we received up onstage with Mike and Carmine soon alleviated any feelings of disappointment.

After we had a chance to meet these two great musicians and have our pictures taken with them, we were ushered to the swag area where we were given a bonus gift–a limited edition numbered poster especially created for the concert in Ponte Vedra. It features a reproduction of the famous, iconic “Bowie Mugshot” from his arrest in Rochester, NY in 1976. I had it framed within hours of returning home and will treasure it always.

The show–here’s where it becomes REALLY difficult to find the words. Trying not to sound cliched by utilizing tired, over-used adjectives, and failing miserably– the performance was outstanding, fantastic, awe-inspiring, emotional, energizing, breathtaking, magnificent…it was everything the 300 or so in attendance could ever hope for it to be. I loved the fact that the venue was small and intimate. Because there were only a few seats placed along the walls, most of the group was up on their feet and dancing in front of the stage the entire time. I know I was–days later I can still feel the soreness–but it was so well worth it.

I have blogged before about how David Bowie saved my life. As trite and banal as that sounds, it’s the truth. To hear Garson, Rojas, Slick, Sexton, Fowler, et al perform the music that shaped my world over 40 years ago, and that still helps me to get through each day, was absolutely exhilarating. Bernard Fowler and Corey Glover did extreme justice to the songs they sang by making them their own and not trying to copy/imitate Bowie. Charlie Sexton and Earl Slick absolutely killed the guitar solos with Sexton’s added bonus of his beautiful and impassioned singing on several of the night’s songs. Lee John and Carmine Rojas were phenomenal in bringing their rhythm and bass expertise into each and every piece, along with Naia and Imani (and a guest percussionist who joined later in the performance).

And Mike Garson…what can be adequately stated about his obvious love of Bowie, his poignant anecdotes, his killer piano performances? I mean, seriously, this is the man who gave us the masterpiece piano solo in 1974’s “Aladdin Sane” that blew even Bowie away. Because of Mike’s genuine love of his friend, mentor, fellow musician, and maestro, we have the privilege of hearing Bowie’s music performed live in a way that I know is making Mr. Bowie himself smile, laugh, and dance up in heaven.

Thank you Mike Garson, and all of the accompanying musicians, for something I will cherish for the rest of my life.

Happy Birthday Starman – 2018

January 8, 2018 by missparker0106

I tend to measure my life in milestones–when Dan passed away, the subsequent annual memorial, and his birthday–and since that awful day in January two years ago, I’ve added David Bowie’s birthday and the day of his passing. Today marks what would have been David Bowie’s 71st birthday. Wednesday will mark the second anniversary of his death.

Today is a celebration. Wednesday will be a day of deep mourning and reflection. David Bowie did, after all, save my life. To many people, that’s a source of irritation–how can you mourn someone that you never knew? But Bowie’s fans did indeed know him. He was whatever we needed him to be–a mentor, a trail-blazer, a validator–he fit many, many roles for many, many people. That was the appeal that made him seem to be our own personal friend, family member, and yes, even lifesaver. He easily infiltrated our lives and we gladly accepted him, because he gave our wretched existences value.

Bowie fans understand. They do not judge. They accept every other fan’s reasons for loving a man that formed an important and necessary part of our lives. We don’t ask–we just nod with sage wisdom when another fan shares a Bowie story. It is the special brotherhood that bonds us. And we are blessed to be a part of this massive network.

Because we do not celebrate, mourn, or reminisce alone. We are a community that supports one another. This is an enormously important part of David Bowie’s legacy. Something that would have probably made him scratch his head in wonder, but something he would absolutely embrace and endorse, because he loved and respected us all. It was that unconditional flow of love back and forth that kept him in his creative game and kept us putting one foot in front of the other, even when we thought we wouldn’t make it through another day. He felt the strength and love that we freely gave back to him and it allowed him to complete two massive projects–a musical and an award-winning album–just weeks/days before his death. The “Lazarus” musical and “Blackstar” album were his parting gifts to us–the strength and love we collectively channeled to him was our gift back to him.

Happy birthday, Starman. There are no words to describe the love and loss, but please know that the love will be all-enduring even if the loss is nearly suffocating. One very important lesson we’ve learned from your own journey is that we can survive whatever life throws at us–even if it means living in a world that you no longer inhabit. And, we are comforted by the images and music that you left behind–until we meet again beyond the stars.

Life Without David Bowie

December 31, 2016 by missparker0106

Photograph (c) Mick Rock

It’s hard to believe that it will soon be a year since David Bowie passed from this world into the next–nearly as difficult as imagining, back on that darkest of days in January 2016, what the world would be like without him. Well, we’ve all since gotten a taste of life without Bowie over these past 11+ months, and it hasn’t been pretty. In fact, the whole of 2016 was very much like a poorly behaved child who acts out when he doesn’t get what he wants.

Oh, 2016 you’ve gotten way more than you deserved.

Bob Masse limited edition giclee

For me, the past year was spent stuffing the recesses of my empty life with music and memorabilia; a futile search for something to make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside–for the psychological spackle that would fill the huge gaping holes in my soul. I busied myself replacing original Bowie vinyl with CDs, building a humongous digital playlist to play over and over, day and night, in an effort to soothe the inner pain and immense feeling of loss. While that helped a tiny bit to take the edge off of the all-consuming grief, I continued my quest for peace by acquiring (somewhat) affordable artwork to display throughout the house, and am currently toying with dedicating a room (my home office) to all things Bowie.

I’m obsessed, much like I was several decades ago when I first discovered this incredible being who made such an impression upon me that it led to the life-altering decision to clean up my act and become a productive part of the human race. A small cog in a big machine, perhaps, but I didn’t end up killing myself, which is what my abusive habits would have surely yielded. And the ultimate prize was being smacked upside the head with the fact that it was OK to be “different.” Not only OK, it was downright cathartic. All because of one impossibly talented and other-worldly creature named David Bowie who flounced into my life on red patent leather platform boots, dressed in the finest of glam, and adorned with the most exquisite make-up palette ever. Even when he eventually eschewed the glam accoutrements, and let his inner Bowie shine brightly, he was always a vision of beauty, peace, and artistry untouched by any other.

I’ve spent hundreds of hours poring through YouTube videos, watching classic David Bowie performances, interviews, and cameos and collecting photographs from the Internet. I’ve invested in limited-edition artwork heralding Bowie’s physical beauty, in an effort to always remember him in a perfect light, frozen in time. My first-ever tattoo, inked last May, is a Ziggy caricature along with Blackstar, signifying the “beginning” to the “end.” I even brought Ziggy Stardust photographs to the nearby hair salon and asked for a Ziggy-esque shag. I’ve not yielded quite yet to the ginger color, but that may be achieved in the not-too-distant future.

Even though I continually strive to acquire Bowie-related “things,” something is obviously missing–because I still feel like shit. I felt much the same way when my husband Dan died over 4 years ago, and I should have known from experience that it never does get better, no matter what the “cure” appears to be. But, I honestly thought that with Bowie the hurt would ease up much faster because, after all, I didn’t know him personally. Or perhaps I did–more than I could ever have imagined.

____________________bowie_monday_jimmy_king

Photograph (C) Jimmy King

David Bowie laid himself open, raw and uncensored, physically and spiritually, for all to see and to share. He let us glimpse into the darkest reaches of his soul through his music, his numerous interviews, his recollections, his personal relationships, his vast collections of books and art, his collaborations, his frustrations, his passion, and his unequaled genius. We all knew him intimately, because he allowed us into his life. It was a bit of a shock when he backed away from the spotlight for nearly a decade, but we also understood, because he made us privy to how much he loved his family and wanted more time with them. The only thing he decided not to share with us was that he was dying. Why? Only David Bowie knows for sure, but I think he wanted to spare us, and him, the worry and despair that such news would bring. Instead, he decided to throw himself into everything he had the strength to tackle, and allowed us to go along blindly and naively with our own lives, without the burden of opening the news each day to see if the end had come.

So, when it came, it hit us hard. We weren’t prepared. But even if we had known, it still would not have prevented that huge, sucking hole that opened up in the universe and swallowed our Starman, catapulting him out of our lives and into a dimension that we, the living, can never fully comprehend. He may be physically gone, but his legacy lives on–through his vast music catalog, his images, both video and still, his band mates, his friends, his family, and of course, through us, his devoted fans.

And, I’ll continue to build my own personal collection of Bowie memorabilia, knowing fully that it will never make me feel completely whole again; but also understanding that if I can’t have the flesh and blood Bowie in my little corner of the universe, the tangible mementos of his brilliant life will just have to do.

How a Starman (David Bowie) and a Hero (DanBH) Validated My Life

May 6, 2016 by missparker0106

Nearly four months on, and I am still trying to grasp the concept of a world without the physically comforting cosmic genius of David Bowie. But, that’s nothing new for me. It has been 3 years, 8 1/2 months since my late husband Dan passed, and I’ve not really moved on from that. Sure, I’ve changed jobs (and subsequently returned to my original company), moved residence, resumed most of my creative interests…but the grieving process seems to be stuck. It must be the stuff I’m made of.

One thing I’m usually very good at is blocking the bits of my past life that are dark, desolate, and decidedly depressing. David Bowie’s death dredged that stinking muck back up and forced me to confront it head on. That wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, because now I’ve been able to let go of a lot of repressed anxiety born of stuffing ungodly visions deep down the memory hole. But, it was a thousand times more painful than satisfying.

Thirty-five+ years ago (a lifetime for many), the lifelong feelings of being a misfit in an un-accepting world reached a head. I found an artificial way to cope, which involved ingesting large amounts of illicit substances. The chemical cocktails made me perceive the world to be a place where I actually fit in, felt productive, and gave me a sense of purpose. Little did I know (or want to believe) that the sense of purpose would end up being a daily visceral drive to find new heights of chemically-induced bliss. The miracle in all of this is that I lived through it. That’s where Mr. Bowie comes in.

With no Internet at my disposal back then, I received music news in bits and pieces from magazines and television (MTV was in its infancy stages). I “discovered” David Bowie late-70s and just prior to sinking to my lowest point. I remember reading a story about how he had been in a similar mess, but had the stones to walk away from it and clean up his life. Not only was he creating and delivering superior music, he was having a ball finding himself, a quest that would end up being a lifelong journey. I so admired his strength and his ability to slip seemingly effortlessly through the world; not as a knock-off wanna-be clone, but as himself. Decidedly misfit, but happy in his own skin.

I started sleeping in front of the stereo, Bowie vinyl platters piled high, listening through huge headphones, lulled to sleep by endless stories of struggle, (at times) defeat, and redemption. His poetic verses described cold, unfriendly worlds, damning events, uncaring accomplices, herculean trials–but they always had a glimmer of hope, a glimpse of light at the end of the tunnel, and a sense of purpose in a chaotic world unsympathetic to those who refuse to walk lockstep to the boringly predictable drumbeat.

Eventually, I, too found the stones to walk away from certain self-destruction, and into the light of the satisfaction of knowing that yes, I’m “different,” but it doesn’t matter what the world thinks of me, as long as I somehow make the world a better place for others. That’s really what it’s all about, isn’t it?

I had a setback a decade later, following a divorce and entering into an abusive relationship. Bowie’s music was forbidden in the new household, lauded as “fag crap,” and only the Rolling Stones (I wonder if Mr. Sensitive knew that Mick and David had had a dalliance) and ZZ Top were allowed. Thank God I had the presence of mind to hide away and hang onto my Bowie vinyl. I remained in that nightmare of a relationship for 5 very long years (queue up Bowie’s “Five Years” here) until I met the second hero of this maudlin story, my late husband Dan. But sadly, I had lost touch with Bowie’s world. I knew he had gotten married, and was still making music, but not much more beyond that. I had been too busy trying to survive by not poking the hornet’s nest.

With Dan, another of life’s misfits and a kindred spirit, came a sense of renewal. Not only had I been given a second chance, but now a third, and I was not going to muck it up. He was truly my soul mate, the one that my bad choices put me on the right path to meet. He, too, was a Bowie fan, but we both were bogged down with work and trying to stay afloat financially. We moved from FL to GA and then back to FL, all in the span of 6 years. Life was busy, and something was wrong with Dan’s health, so it became challenging and a balancing act that consumed most of our free time. David Bowie suffered a heart attack in 2004, and Dan had his in 2005. Along with Dan’s attack came the grim news that he also had a rare and incurable vasculitis disease called Churg Strauss Syndrome. The two heroes in my life were forced to make life-altering decisions at almost the same time.

I made it my quest to ensure the remainder of Dan’s life had a note of quality and dignity. He died August 21, 2012 after a courageous struggle. Part of me died with him, but I am convinced his spirit walks with me, overseeing many of my decisions and helping me through the rough spots. David Bowie started releasing music a year later (2013) after a long hiatus to be with his beloved family. The floodgates opened for him and remained open until January 10 of this year, right up to the end. He and Dan shared something very special. They refused to accept death as a possibility, and especially not an end, and for that reason both of their spirits shine brightly among the stars, still very much a part of this life and those who loved them.

Shortly after Bowie’s death, which was incredibly and personally devastating, I started replacing my vinyl, and ripping the CDs to my computer (which has a decent speaker system). I also filled in a few of the missing pieces and put together one helluva playlist. I have been sleeping to it every night (and playing it every day while working) for the past 3 months, and that has been what keeps the decades-old demons at bay.

During those moments when I can see clearly through the haze of grief, I consider myself very lucky, indeed, to have 2 such incredibly gifted and “different” angels watching over me for whatever time I have left on this world. After that, I will make it my eternal mission to follow them both to the ends of the universe.

When Heroes Die ~ David Bowie (January 8, 1947 – January 10, 2016)

January 20, 2016 by missparker0106

Admittedly, I am adding my voice a bit late to the millions of others expressing shock and grief over the death of David Bowie (nee David Robert Jones) on January 10. My reasons include the inability to come to grips with my emotions and to make sense of the flood of confusion and depression that has washed over me, the likes of which I haven’t felt since losing Daniel, my beloved husband, over 3 years ago.

There have been sad, hateful people who have belittled those of us in the throes of grief, not understanding the powerful hold this man held over us, and the positive influence he brought to lives wracked with hopelessness and despair. I feel sorry for those wastes of space and oxygen, for they will never know the joy that a lyric, the bend of a note, the croon of a voice, the sight of magnificent oddity can bring, when all a lost soul is looking for is some light toward which to travel with hopeful anticipation.

My own story involves musical salvation from the darkest period of my life that included an inexplicable and debilitating addiction born of self-loathing. Something in Bowie’s music hit me at a time (late 70s/early 80s) when I could very easily have checked out on life in a drug-induced haze of oblivion. It spoke volumes to a lost soul who felt very different in an uncaring world. Suddenly, “different” was OK–acceptable and cool, even–and the earth shifted back on its axis, instead of tumbling haphazardly toward reckless destruction.

David Bowie taught me to have the courage to face down my demons, much as he had accomplished with his move to Berlin. He held my fragile psyche in his arms night after night, as I fell asleep in huge headphones, plugged into the stereo piled high with his vinyl platters, lulling me into fitful sleep and the healing needed to get back on track. His words lifted me, his music inspired me, and his lion-like courage was the model that I used to find my own way back to a world that no longer seemed as cold and full of rejection as I had once perceived it to be. I felt validated, renewed, and determined.

Mr. Bowie gave me back my life. And Daniel, when I met him years later, continued to anchor me and gently guide me along all the right paths. How can one damaged-yet-renewed soul thank another soul for a second chance? I’ve never felt that I adequately thanked either one of these brave and brilliant men during this physical phase of existence, but I hope to have another chance when I, too, begin life among the stars.

Rest in peace, David Robert Jones Bowie (and Daniel, my true love). You’ve both earned your wings and the opportunity to shine your love radiantly, beautifully, and eternally upon us all as we somehow attempt to navigate the rough seas of life without your physical presence. Every tear we cry waters the tree of your memory. Long may it grow tall and strong, sheltering us all with branches made of the endless beauty and joy you gave to the world.