Some Girls Are Bigger…
by Matthew Damascus
[[akira]] Hey, and didja know for instance that David Bowie swiped all of his best performance ideas from Akira Hokuto? Don’t you dare even give me any shit about timelines and the linear nature of chronological progression. Surely someone of David Bowie’s wealth could have commissioned the construction of a time machine. And with said time machine, first thing he did was to set the controls, not to the heart of the sun, to late 1980’s Tokyo. Perhaps he wandered into a wrestling match. No, he definitely wandered into a wrestling match. Then he saw HER.
David Bowie isn’t one to show emotion, or to get jealous, but this time he did both. He cried and he laughed and he hugged himself and he cursed himself all at the same time. David Bowie knew now that he wasn’t and could never be as perfect as Akira Hokuto, he knew that he could never speak to her, even though he loved her so much that it made his insides hurt. So he had to run. David Bowie ran back to London, back in time, the images of Akira Hokuto burned into his brain permanently. Three wrenching months of catharsis later, he created the Ziggy Stardust persona, and rock and roll was reinvented. But it didn’t really matter in the end, because the world was still waiting for HER. For Akira.
Ziggy Stardust could do many things mere mortals could not do, but even this alien had his limits. Could he, for instance, fly through the air, effortlessly landing on enemies? Doubtful. Could he lock on devastating submission moves, wrenching ankles, arms, shoulders, necks, all while wearing a fabulous array of capes, masks, gloves, rhinestones, velvet, silk, and jewels? Never. Could he stagger around the ring, covered in blood, staining bleach-blonde hair cut to look like Farrah Fawcett just because SHE knew SHE could? No. Could he come back from a career-ending back injury to slap around young pretenders to the throne that SHE never abdicated? Don’t make me laugh. Could he look at Americans with imperious disdain, breathing threw a jeweled oxygen mask because American air was “too dirty,” before calmly dispatching of America’s last hero in three matches IN A ROW? I don’t think he has the moral fibre. He couldn’t do any of this, but SHE could, with unimaginable poise and beauty. David Bowie is just another rock and roll star. Akira Hokuto is the Dangerous Queen.
