When I got home from school and the store I dropped the bags of groceries and I walked straight into my bedroom and flopped onto my bed. My body shut down, my mind went blank and dark, my snow boots hung over the side of the bed dripping melting snow, the light in the room was still on, I pulled a stray pillow over my face and laid there breathing. I didn't even sleep, or nap, or pass out, I just laid there, blank, exhausted. The last two days I have been working harder than normal, I don't really know why, I just know that this is what happened when I got home as a result, I literally pretty much died on my bed. It felt so good to lie there just not thinking. After about 20 minutes of this I started thinking again.
"The apartment is dirty"
"I need to do dishes"
"There is crap laying all over the house"
"I need to fold laundry"
"I should make brownies"
"I want to take a shower"
"What am I gonna eat for dinner?"
"I can't wait to watch my new Netflix movies tonight"
blah blah blah rah rah rah.
So I slowly lurched my rusted frame and mind back to a vertical position, took my boots off, slipped into my fur lined Crocs and went straight to the stereo. The only way to climb out of this insurmountable valley of exhaustion was to put on the perfect music. There was only one man for the job.
His name was David Bowie. I don't know how or why the sweet lord thought it necessary to keep this artist from me my whole life, but now that his music is in my world I said, "BOWIE I CHOOSE YOU to save my apartment from clutter and laziness and Armageddon!" And as the daunting, plodding drums and piano chords of "Five Years" slowly drove forward pushing me along and Bowie as Ziggy Stardust sang about the love that exists in the last five years of humanity before total earth destruction I started decluttering the house thinking "thirty years later Bowie and you're still right."
By the time "Moonage Daydream" hits I'm flying around the apartment organizing, wiping, trashing clutter left and right singing,"I'm an alligator, I'm a mama papa coming for youuuuuu, I'm a space invader, I'll be a rock and roll b***h for youuuuuuuu, keep your mouth Shuu uuuuut. You're squawking like a pink monkey bird And I'm busting up my brains foooooor the words" and so on. The apartment cleaning took on a different purpose...not cleanliness, but rocking the hell out.
Next thing I know the apartment is spotless clean and I'm sloshing water all over the kitchen counter head banging to "Hang on to Yourself" and singing with determination, "But then we move like tigers on VASSeline, Well the bitter comes out better on a stolen guitAAAR, You're the blessed, we're the Spiders from MAAARS UH!"
I finished the dishes fast. I also simultaneously realized that I want to start singing about outer space. I mean, I always sing about emotions, and relationships and all kinds of goopy hippie crap. But, a hippie kid with a big beard and lots of love singing about outer space missions and inter galaxy love stories and the trials and tribulations of time travel spaceship repair would be amazing! I mean hippies love organic, natural stuff and nature, the farthest thing from that is the scifi outerspace NASA spacestation lunar landing aliens and galaxies sort of stuff. If I could mesh it just right so that space felt natural I would finally reach the masses I think. Now the trick is to see if I can actually do it. First I need to capture that "Space Sound" that I admire so much. But this train of thought isn't good for cleaning and may not be healthy at all so I took a break from the hypnotic effect of washing dishes to David Bowie.
I stopped clean ing only once though, to observe the sheer genius that is "Rock and Roll Suicide" and checked email and so one until the song stops and Bowie/Stardust's voice screams out of the silence "OH NO LOVE! YOU'RE NOT ALONE!" Thats farkin' right Bowie, I'm not thanks to you. That line rocketed me out of my seat and I started making brownies ferociously. I stirred the brown goopy goo in the mixing bowl stomping my foot on the linoleum. Unfortunately that's the end of the album and the next artist is David Gray (a good guy to make brownies to don't get me wrong) but after "The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders From Mars" I was looking for something with a little bit more arse kicking potential. So I put on the "Velvet Goldmine" album for the nine hundredth time this week and by the time Placebo's "20th Centurty Boy" kicked in I got my sweet musical release, a full on brownie ROCK OUT! I put the brownie's (with butterscotch chips, cinnamon, and dried cranberries) into the oven and had to sit down to tell you all about it. Which now I have. You might think I'm crazy, thats fine. Until you get these albums and tell me that they don't, in fact, Rock SO HARD, then I don't really want to hear about it. I mean look at the guy, he's kind of a freak, and the fact that he still rocks makes it more impressive.
The brownies are done now and they are delicious. You know why? Because Bowie's in my brownies. Thats right, I said it. Bowie is in my brownies. For the record I'm calling them Bownies.
ALSO if you feel like having a rocking house cleaning I've assembled SIX TASTY CUTS for your musical palette to sample from both Ziggy Stardust and the Soundtrack to Velvet Goldmine. I really hope I'm not the only one who digs these epic tunes, but I'm prepared to walk the road alone (or fly the spaceship by myself).
I haven't really cut loose and let you all have a big laugh at my expense in a while so I hope you enjoyed this rare look into what happens to people if you put them on an island in the Bering Sea for 6 months with no possible chance for making any friends. Let me know if this made you laugh or just generally concerned for my mental state. Happy Tuesday!