A great sadness…
“My soul is ten thousand miles wide and extremely invisibly deep. It is the same size as the sea, and you cannot, you cannot cram it into beer cans and fingernails and stake it out in lots and own it. It will drown you all and never even notice.”
There are writers who touch us, who teach us, who look at the world in eye-opening ways. Writers who not only reflect the world we live in but also dare to shape it into something the rest of us mere mortals had not even imagined. And when they are gone, and their voices silenced, there is a hole in the world; we are all the poorer for their passing.
For me, Ursula Le Guin was such a writer.
The Lathe of Heaven; Left Hand of Darkness; Tales of Earthsea; The Dispossessed…In Fantasy and Science Fiction, novels, short stories…
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I grew up on the genius of David Bowie. Indeed, I played my cassette of The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars so often it wound up spliced and respliced until it finally wore through. In music, film, fashion, life, he was as if from another realm entirely. His chiseled androgyny served as both lure and challenge, as he capered across the cultural landscape, forever reinventing himself, pushing boundaries with an eerie prescience.
Many words far better than mine will be written about Ziggy Stardust/Aladdin Sane/The Thin White Duke/Regular Dude, et al., and his profound influence on the creative world of the past 50 years. So I won’t ramble. For now, let David Bowie’s work speak.
Fly high and thank you. What gifts you gave us all.