Friday, 17 July 2015

The man who sold the world. . .

I've blogged about David Bowie in previous posts (see Space Oddity, As the world falls down, Modern love).  I've always loved his compositions and marvelled at the way (being the consummate professional that he is) in which he sings and articulates his lyrics.  In The man who sold the world I picture a music video in my mind (it's what I tend to do when I can't find one online lol) and there are couple of ways that I interpret this song too.  I've also decided to include three video clips of this track.  The first one is from the master himself David Bowie, the second clip is a recent cover version recorded by Tribal State and finally, the recording which probably revived the popularity of the songs by Nirvana as part of their MTV Unplugged session.

We passed upon the stair, we spoke of was and when
Although I wasn't there, he said I was his friend
Which came as some surprise I spoke into his eyes
I thought you died alone, a long long time ago

I imagine a distinguished looking man walking down a flight of stairs at some swanky party who passes another man on the same flight of stairs and the other man strikes up a conversation.  Has that happened to you?  You're just going about your business and trying to get away from the crowd at some social gathering and someone you don't recognise starts talking to you.  I often speak to people's eyes but say something different out loud lol.  I often wonder if I can communicate with people telepathically or whether people would hear my thoughts when I speak into their eyes.  I might often catch a raised eyebrow or a glazed look in the eye and then quickly abandon the idea.

Oh no, not me
I never lost control
You're face to face
With The Man Who Sold The World

I think I often come face to face with people who have sold their worlds.  They might even be people who have sold themselves out to gain a place in the world that they always wanted to belong in and thought they needed to be in.  I've been fascinated lately with how people try to belong to things and attach themselves to people and try to ensconce themselves in little cliques (yes it's spelled cliques, I'm sick of people writing clicks - that's something else) and try to become exclusive.  One day maybe I might lose control and let rip with what I really want to do haha.  I think it might scare some people and they might think they're face to face With The Woman Who Lost Her Mind :-)

See Tribal State's cover version:

I laughed and shook his hand, and made my way back home
I searched for form and land, for years and years I roamed

When I have conversations with people, they might say something that shows me a little bit more of their humanity or fallibility and it makes an impact on me in that I start thinking about what that information or insight means for me in my world.  Will it cause me to search more within myself about how I see myself and the world?  Will it cause me to call into question my own deep seated beliefs that have shifted and adapted with the modernity of the times?  Will it cause me to search further afield, trying to find something or someone that helps me to make sense of the chaos that I am constantly faced with?

I gazed a gazely stare at all the millions here
We must have died alone, a long long time ago

I often think this when I'm in a crowded room of people, all standing around in their little cliques ensconced in conversations about trivial things, and I know them to be trivial because I can see looking at other people, looking at them up and down as if to give them a once-over on what other people are wearing (sorry then fashion police) then whisper behind their palms and giggle into their pretentiously labelled drinks.  Then I think, well, if I'm here, did I die alone, a long long time ago too?  I'm alone anyway since my husband died.  I'm never lonely as my thoughts, memories and ideas don't let me rest, but I think I have died multiple times, even more recently, over and over and I have been reborn each time as I remember my life's purpose that calls to me - even in my sleep, albeit my reluctance.

Who knows?  Not me
We never lost control
You're face to face
With The Man Who Sold The World. . . 

I think you know more than you let on.  I know, because I do that sometimes too.

I wonder if the distinguished looking man that went down the flight of stairs didn't actually see another man pass him and try to spark up a conversation.  In fact, the man was passing a reflective surface, a mirror, and when he looked up and caught his own reflection, he actually had that conversation with himself.  He didn't recognise that it was himself he was looking at in the mirror.  The gazeless stare that you reserved for millions of others, you gazed upon yourself that way - that empty stare which quickly turned to surprise, because you spoke to your own eyes, when you recognised the ancient you, the original you, the you that you almost forgot was always inside you but you buried beneath the surface as you built the world that you eventually sold.

You're face to face
With the Man Who Sold The World. . .