I Still Don’t Know What I Am Waiting For

To me, a boy growing up in Vermont in the seventies and eighties, David Bowie was a threat. Bowie was too clever, too variable, too strange, too complicated, too challenging. I didn’t know what to make of a musician whose lane was seemingly whatever he wanted it to be. That this also applied to Bowie’s movies and fashion was overwhelming. To that boy who wanted so badly to fit in, to not be thought of as strange or different or weird, Bowie was a warning and a danger.

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