On Bowie

“You can hold back from the suffering of the world. You have free permission to do so, and it is in accordance with your nature. But perhaps this very holding back is the one suffering you could have avoided.”

The karaoke principle: if you can’t fix it, flaunt it.

The ideal collision of vulgarity and high-mindedness.”

Bowie was all about eroticizing what you don’t know for sure.

Both sang their fears of losing their youth when they were still basically kids; both aged mysteriously well. Neither ever did anything remotely sane.

“I’ve met all the women, and I’ll tell you one thing, I’m more woman than any of ’em. I’m a real woman, because I have love, dependability, I’m good, kind, gentle, and I’ve the power to give real love. Why else would you think that such a strong man as David Bowie would be close to me? He’s a real man, and I’m a real woman. Just like Catherine Dene

Prince dropped Purple Rain, an album that consummated everything Let’s Dance promised, though his guitar sounded more like Scary Monsters—Prince

it in unexpected places. Suddenly you’re surrounded by all these people going through the same shock and grief you feel, all of our heads hurting like a warehouse. Never thought I’d need so many people.

The mystery of whether Thomas Pynchon heard “Space Oddity” before writing the last hundred pages of Gravity’s Rainbow is one of those questions I never stop asking myself.