Oh, Bowie. Bowie Bowie Bowie Bowie Bowie. How to tell you how you've rocked our world? How you shaped both our musical taste and the early glimmering glimpses of our personal (and global) sense of style? How many times we have scrawled "Bowie Wowie Mix" across the silver surface of a blank CD? The ferocious crush we had on Jareth, the dashing Elf King, at the tender age of 3? (Yes, darling, you were influencing our romantic development even then!) How in high school, we destroyed both our VHS, and later, our DVD, of Velvet Goldmine, that fictionalized testament to you at the pinnacle of all your staggering glory, from far too many repeat viewings? That the photograph of you leaning so rakishly against the Manchester Square gate, reading that newspaper and dangling that cigarette, still gives us the boner to end all lady boners? Oh, sigh. Oh, heart be still. Oh, David.