Oy. This has been in my head since I heard of Bowie's death. I don't know what the fuck to say about feeling comforted by words uttered over forty years ago, but it's felt as if they were being urged upon me, me. Not the whole song, just those last bits, I'll help you with the pain, and he has, he has helped me with the fucking pain.




Oh no love! you're not alone
You're watching yourself but you're too unfair
You got your head all tangled up but if I could only make you care
Oh no love! you're not alone
No matter what or who you've been
No matter when or where you've seen
All the knives seem to lacerate your brain
I've had my share, I'll help you with the pain
You're not alone

Just turn on with me and you're not alone
Let's turn on with me and you're not alone
Let's turn on and be not alone
Gimme your hands cause you're wonderful
Oh gimme your hands.

None of this makes any sense to me.

But I have immersed myself in words and music by and about David Bowie and feel much more in tune with the world, or my part in it, than I did just before.

I am grateful for: being touched by something outside of myself and my own little troubles; seeing the Ziggy Stardust show in Brighton, back then; Rebel Rebel; John, I'm Only Dancing; Let's Dance