Dear Mr. Bowie,
I meant to send you this letter a long time ago, but I kept putting it off. I know now that I shouldn't do that, because if you put off writing to your heroes too long, you won't have any heroes left to write to. So I'm writing it here, hoping you're able to read it somehow.
I had just bought Blackstar on the day it came out, your birthday. I got it on vinyl, naturally. It's a fantastic record, one that reminded me of my favorite albums of yours: Low, "HEROES", and Station to Station. Being a fan of A Clockwork Orange, I especially loved hearing you sing in Nadsat on "Girl Loves Me." The harmonica riff from "A New Career In A New Town" being sampled in "I Can't Give Everything Away" made me sit up when I recognized it. Sadly, I don't think I've touched the record since you left. I just never have the time.
I guess the reason I wanted to write to you was to say thank you. You got me through quite a lot in the past few years. I graduated high school and went off to college with your music as the soundtrack. When I got my Associate's degree, I wrote "We Can Be Heroes Just For One Day" on my cap. Cliche, I know, but that's how I felt. The only thing that got me through these past few weeks was your music. I couldn't listen to anything else. It's funny, when I have Ziggy or Station to Station playing in my car radio, it feels like you're still there. Maybe, in a way, you still are.
I always said that if one person had figured out how to become immortal, it was you. Maybe you did. That's always one of the perks of being an artist, I guess. No matter what, your work's always going to be there. Thank God for that. You were, you are, my hero, forever and ever. Thank you, David. Maybe someday, a long, long time from now, I'll finally get to shake your hand and thank you personally. Until then, I'll miss you very much.