So I posted here a thing I wrote about David Bowie this morning, but now I am thinking twice about. Originally I was thinking about how much I loved his music, back in the day. And yet how grumpy i was to learn that he wasn’t really bisexual, at least according to the Wikipedia piece I read– apparently it was all theatre. I wrote all despondently that it’d have been nice if the thing he’d been pretending to be really was who he was.
But now, a full six hours later, I begin to suspect I’m full of hooey. Maybe the reality doesn’t matter. Maybe what matters is the theatre, and the music. That opened plenty of doors all by itself. And perhaps we never know who artists “really” are, and it’s naiive to expect them as performers to be–what is the phrase?— their “true selves.”
Anyway, I’m taking this down so I can think about it a little more.
Wham, bam, thank you ma’am.