July 1 2009
It was just last week that I was watching the Dangerous Tour Rehearsals and playing Going Places, The Jacksons Live, and Destiny albums in my car. During the rehearsals a rope swung above his head just missing him and he just looked up and said…interesting. He wore a neon green button up shirt. A lot of preparation goes into that. Remember The Time was cut out of the concert set, but it was nice to see the way it was to be executed live in the rehearsal. I wonder who that dark haired slightly colored dancer is. The crunkest background dancer ever was just as crunk in rehearsals. His name is Ricky Garcia or something. Paula Kelly looked just as gay in rehearsal as he did on concert. Viper looked like viper…and the other dude…I forget about him other than I know Mike always mimics the Jackson 5 placements so he always has 4 dancers. I love when he and Siedah sing IJCSLY. They get way more intimate than he and Sheryl Crowe ever did…and on the live from Bucharest DVD he smacks her ass. Yep! Either they had chemistry or they act very well. He looks deeply at her. This is a boon because she’s BLACK! Ooh and I made my sister laugh when I showed her footage of the Jacksons Variety Show and Linda Carter was the guest. She came out during the On the Wall song (WHICH I LOVE) AND DROPPED IT LIKE IT WAS HOT ON MIKE! She wasn’t all that close but he was within definite reach. She just walked out all diva like, turned her butt to Mike and said WHOMP! I WAS ROLLIN! Some people next to me at the cyber café were on eBay looking for mike t shirts. The little boy who was no older than 5 couldn’t even pronounce his name right, but he knew who he was. I just feel sick. When I was at the mall yesterday the dollar store was selling RIP Mike t shirts. Odd, yet a very warm gesture. One minute i'm smiling because I remembered something about him that makes me happy. The next, PYT is played on the radio and I burst into tears on the 118. I always thought he had sweaty palms. I don’t know, I just thought that. I thought about getting a tattoo. Just his name…and if possible in a script very similar to his signature. Yea, that’s extreme…I usually avoid pain for no damn reason and have been pretty anti tattoo up til now. I used to talk about the fans that had Mike tattoos… Especially the 1980’s ones because he don’t look the same. Now, who am I to talk? I also thought…maybe name a kid after him. Even if it’s a girl. I had a professor named Michale Dale. Yea, she spelled it like that And, I know a lady who’s nickname is Mike. I had known her for a while before I knew what her real name was. Do all people scratch their heads the same? Black people scratch it with that one finger, the pointer. I used to wonder why they didn’t change the beginning of the SOOML video where Mike is sitting on that stool and scratches his head before he starts singing. You know, I used to wonder if Mike really had acne…and he did. I have some super HIGH Definition footage of the Jackson 5 right before Jermaine left when he had that pretty perm…and Mike did have some break outs. Whatever he used worked because I had never seen much. I just wasn’t looking for it, but in this footage it is obvious. You can see imperfections of errbody. I sometimes wonder why I am so involved and upset and it reminds me of a quote from a Janet song…how empty of me to be so full of you. But upon further reflection, I don’t think i’m empty at all…my equilibrium liquid content is fluctuating, that’s all. I have something I call “The Mark of the Musical Genius”. There are at least 4 men whose music represents a state of consciousness to me- they have/had a mole on their face. Mike, Prince, Sananda Maitreya (Terence Trent D’Arby) and Andre 3000. I bet Mike had to have gotten drunk a time or two…I bet he’s a silly drunk. Mike called somebody a schmuck on some interview I have of him. God I would have hated to be the wardrobe people for the Victory Tour. All of that man stank, tight clothes, and jheri curl juice makes for a ghastly odor. Randy’s arms are really long compared to his torso. Or maybe those vertical stripped spandex pants were creating illusions of elongated proportions. Word is Stephanie Mills had a HUGE crush on him and was trying to get with him while he was in NY filming The Wiz….Latoya allegedly messed up their groove one time. Teenaged angst and curiosity, aww. Im’a tell ya’ll my one nasty Mike joke. What did the gynecologist find during Brooke Shields’ pap smear? Michael Jackson’s other glove! Man that is so funny to me! It tickles me rightly fine.
I wonder what were the last things he saw, heard, smelled, felt, and thought. God, I don’t want to see an open casket and I don’t think they’ll do that for the public ceremony, but something weird makes me think I’d like to stroke his hair. Or his wiggy weave. I wonder what his actual hair was like? And did it ever grow back in those spots from the Pepsi commercial. You know, on his rendition of Come Together by the Beatles. Yea, you probably didn’t know he recorded it…you can catch the video at the end of the Moonwalker movie. Anyway, on his version of Come Together he does a toe curling oooh. It’s really gritty. Like he meant that ooh. Damn, Diana Ross is the last living cast member of The Wiz. She’s like Otis from The Temptations. Hey! Mike had on black leather pants…and he didn’t put them mugs on again til the Scream video. Yooo, that white suit from the Thriller album looks really, whomp whomp whomp. Like, yea it’s at least 25 years old and dingy…but it looks really blah. He is hella skinny too. The jacket itself was narrow as hell. I keep singing that song by Stevie Wonder, “I Love You More.” I only know two people in this world who respond to “I Love You” with “I Love You More”. Mike and Nene. That song is pretty. Delicate. I’m bored. This is a time when I would dig into my Mike repertoire to entertain my self, but I’m scared I’ll have another break down. I’ve cried at least 4 times today. Everyday is different, but the same…sad. Ooh, on the 1988 Grammys when he is singing Man in the Mirror he does this cool vocal thing. When he be singing “you you you you” and adlibbing all Mike-like. He does this deep voice thing and it is AWESOME! I wonder if he had on knee pads when he spun around and fell to his knees those two times? I didn’t see any bulges at the knee, so I guess not. I wonder why he flicked his hand like something gross was on it. A course should be taught in Mike Mannerisms 101. I’m so tired of being sad, but I don’t know how to be happy. There’s a Jacksons song called Think Happy. Man, how can fate be so cruel?
Action Taken: July 1 2009
Thanks to a companion who tells me what I need to hear when I need to hear it without saccharin. My journey to release myself from this situation has begun.
Observation: July 1 2009
Desert plants look weird and wiry. Like hair standing on end, a dry scalp full of dandruff to anchor their roots.
Friday, July 10, 2009
Dreaming
June 30 2009
Dreaming of a brighter tomorrow, where the sun’s rays dance circles on my face. The moon’s glow leaves pallor on the human race. Where balloons float on high with love. Where flowers bloom and their stem, a dove. I dream of clouds with a gentle mist. And stares that come with a kiss. I dream a lot. Of things that I cannot see, cannot feel, but pray are out there. I dream of minks and ermines that scurry into the night. Frogs that at the slightest provocation, take flight. Trees that sway and bow, then curtsey and smile with pure delight.
The rain cascades down, around, and upon my ills. Letting their dreary colors slide down my shoulders and bleed into the ground. Leaving an imprint of my pain, my gains, my life …frame by frame. Rainbows crisscross the sky. Weaving a tapestry of visuals, a story unfolds
Red- for the evils and perils of this world. Stop! Danger lurks in every step. Beware. There are a lot of road blocks between birth and death.
Green- for the luscious bounty we sometimes receive. Take care of yourself and others. Kind words and unselfish deeds.
Blue – for the way I feel right now. Some kind of blue this is. It has swells and has troughs. Gaping holes and glorious folds.
Orange – for the triumph I hope to see. Jovial, optimistic. Those things I hope to be.
Yellow- for the sunflowers and daffodils that line my path to wisdom, happiness, peace and free will and a couple of isms.
Indigo- for the wretched rod that keeps tripping me up. Writhe with eagerness, to bruise my ego and hit the ground with a thump.
Violet- for the weeping of mothers, sleeping of infants, and the thinking of scholars. For life’s great questions and daily bothers.
A spiders web in deep retreat. A broken mirror, a crushed maple leaf. Tis twilight or dawn. Tis puppeteer or pawn. In this game of life, aint no telling where blessings and shortfalls may come.
Dreaming of a brighter tomorrow, where the sun’s rays dance circles on my face. The moon’s glow leaves pallor on the human race. Where balloons float on high with love. Where flowers bloom and their stem, a dove. I dream of clouds with a gentle mist. And stares that come with a kiss. I dream a lot. Of things that I cannot see, cannot feel, but pray are out there. I dream of minks and ermines that scurry into the night. Frogs that at the slightest provocation, take flight. Trees that sway and bow, then curtsey and smile with pure delight.
The rain cascades down, around, and upon my ills. Letting their dreary colors slide down my shoulders and bleed into the ground. Leaving an imprint of my pain, my gains, my life …frame by frame. Rainbows crisscross the sky. Weaving a tapestry of visuals, a story unfolds
Red- for the evils and perils of this world. Stop! Danger lurks in every step. Beware. There are a lot of road blocks between birth and death.
Green- for the luscious bounty we sometimes receive. Take care of yourself and others. Kind words and unselfish deeds.
Blue – for the way I feel right now. Some kind of blue this is. It has swells and has troughs. Gaping holes and glorious folds.
Orange – for the triumph I hope to see. Jovial, optimistic. Those things I hope to be.
Yellow- for the sunflowers and daffodils that line my path to wisdom, happiness, peace and free will and a couple of isms.
Indigo- for the wretched rod that keeps tripping me up. Writhe with eagerness, to bruise my ego and hit the ground with a thump.
Violet- for the weeping of mothers, sleeping of infants, and the thinking of scholars. For life’s great questions and daily bothers.
A spiders web in deep retreat. A broken mirror, a crushed maple leaf. Tis twilight or dawn. Tis puppeteer or pawn. In this game of life, aint no telling where blessings and shortfalls may come.
I feel sick
I feel sick. I have had bouts of nervousness throughout the day. I’m scared and I don’t comprehend this. There are so many unanswered questions. I cannot, will not accept this. God, if I feel this way as a fan, I cannot imagine how his family and friends feel.
6/28/09 11:11pm
Two months til his birthday. I don’t feel right, all over. I don’t think I will live another day without crying tears of pain and loss. I mean, my mind hurts, my heart hurts, my stomach hurts, and the tips of my fingers feel nervous with rigidity. Everyday I wake up to despair and I go to sleep not wanting to see another painful day. I feel antsy, like I want to turn my skin inside out. I just want to scream NO. Damn, now I can’t click the spell check button without wincing in mental anguish, ABC. I don’t know if I can do this. I just can’t take it. I am this damn close to just shutting down.
6/29/09 6:04 am
6/28/09 11:11pm
Two months til his birthday. I don’t feel right, all over. I don’t think I will live another day without crying tears of pain and loss. I mean, my mind hurts, my heart hurts, my stomach hurts, and the tips of my fingers feel nervous with rigidity. Everyday I wake up to despair and I go to sleep not wanting to see another painful day. I feel antsy, like I want to turn my skin inside out. I just want to scream NO. Damn, now I can’t click the spell check button without wincing in mental anguish, ABC. I don’t know if I can do this. I just can’t take it. I am this damn close to just shutting down.
6/29/09 6:04 am
What is life?
June 29, 2009
What is life, but a feigned attempt at immorality? For all of the world’s worth, it comes down to nothing, really. What is a girl, but a reflection of generations of femininity? What is a boy, but the shadow and future bread of what his father wishes to be? Do you wake every morning with a plan, no vice to be spread? Or do you wake to meet everyday with insouciance. An attitude, be whatever may. For when I wake every day, I am a mix between the two. No love, some life, less assured…I search this earth for proof. That I am special, maybe important. That my existence on this earth won’t be ignored. That maybe, just maybe my grace will be implored. What is a baby, but the spawn of a lovers lust? What is an old man, but a book of wisdom, a coif of dust? I use my eyes to see the world around me. I use my ears to hear the speech that riles me. I use my nose, olfactory tube and gestation to smell the sweet summer nectar and the bitter winter breeze. I use my hands to feel the flesh, to touch, to tease. But when I lie awake at night, slumber escapes me. My mind wanders to and fro…rest, wont let it be. I am but a human. Imperfect in many ways. I am but black, seen as less than, evil and incompetent. No matter how many generations have passed since slavery’s day. I am but a woman, misogynized to my core. I am but a girl, scared and ignored. I am so many things…encapsulated into a being. I am but a sparrow in spirit. Winds abound on my wings. I am so many things, I say. So many things indeed. But with all of this, I still don’t have what I need. To soar on the wings of dreams and burrow deep within the womb of a golden steed. Security is elusive, but no soul does it feed. Black as night. White as a hot flame, ignite…The passion within me to do, to be , to change, to see, to feel, to touch, to hear, to heed. The warning of the archangels on high, with their spare rods aimed and ready to take flight. Imprisoned in my own life, circumstances of enormous strife. I feel bitter; filled with 27 years of sorrow and rage. I feel little. Outdone and overshadowed by those on the main stage. I feel betrayed…for however my aspirations bloom, were they to seem not depraved of the right…to manifest. To let me shine, to be at my best. I am just too stricken with grief, pain and struggle, I don’t know if I have the strength to fight anymore…all alone. Amel, I wanna stop singing the solider song.
What is life, but a feigned attempt at immorality? For all of the world’s worth, it comes down to nothing, really. What is a girl, but a reflection of generations of femininity? What is a boy, but the shadow and future bread of what his father wishes to be? Do you wake every morning with a plan, no vice to be spread? Or do you wake to meet everyday with insouciance. An attitude, be whatever may. For when I wake every day, I am a mix between the two. No love, some life, less assured…I search this earth for proof. That I am special, maybe important. That my existence on this earth won’t be ignored. That maybe, just maybe my grace will be implored. What is a baby, but the spawn of a lovers lust? What is an old man, but a book of wisdom, a coif of dust? I use my eyes to see the world around me. I use my ears to hear the speech that riles me. I use my nose, olfactory tube and gestation to smell the sweet summer nectar and the bitter winter breeze. I use my hands to feel the flesh, to touch, to tease. But when I lie awake at night, slumber escapes me. My mind wanders to and fro…rest, wont let it be. I am but a human. Imperfect in many ways. I am but black, seen as less than, evil and incompetent. No matter how many generations have passed since slavery’s day. I am but a woman, misogynized to my core. I am but a girl, scared and ignored. I am so many things…encapsulated into a being. I am but a sparrow in spirit. Winds abound on my wings. I am so many things, I say. So many things indeed. But with all of this, I still don’t have what I need. To soar on the wings of dreams and burrow deep within the womb of a golden steed. Security is elusive, but no soul does it feed. Black as night. White as a hot flame, ignite…The passion within me to do, to be , to change, to see, to feel, to touch, to hear, to heed. The warning of the archangels on high, with their spare rods aimed and ready to take flight. Imprisoned in my own life, circumstances of enormous strife. I feel bitter; filled with 27 years of sorrow and rage. I feel little. Outdone and overshadowed by those on the main stage. I feel betrayed…for however my aspirations bloom, were they to seem not depraved of the right…to manifest. To let me shine, to be at my best. I am just too stricken with grief, pain and struggle, I don’t know if I have the strength to fight anymore…all alone. Amel, I wanna stop singing the solider song.
It’s 1:09am June 27, 2009. I just got back from Hayvenhurst.
It’s 1:09am June 27, 2009. I just got back from Hayvenhurst. AMAZINGLY, I didn’t cry. I don’t know what was going on because all indicators (based on my bursts of tears throughout the day and the butterflies in my stomach as I drove to Encino) said I was going to break down. But I didn’t. I just took it all in. There were all kinds of flowers and bears and poster and candles and flowers and flowers and more flowers. I brought flowers too. Orange looking lilies. Lilies are my favorite flower. My sister went with me. We signed a sympathy card to the family. I mounted a poem I wrote 3 yrs ago on cardstock and left it there. It was good to be in the fellowship for the 1st time in almost 2 yrs. It was really solemn when we first arrive around 8:30pm, but some black dude…I call him the choir director…just started singing Mike songs…and before you know it we were all singing. He started with Heal the World…I sang that at my 6th grade graduation. We sang PYT, I’ll be There…then they went on a tangent singing songs that have too much instrumentation and not enough lyrics to sing and singing 11 yr old boy voice songs in a grown man voice. Anyway, met some cool black people in line. It angered me to see all the camera hogs. Just out there trying to be seen. Putting on an ol’ sambo show for abc7. I just stood at the taped barricade by the gate. I aint trying to be seen. Anyway, Choir Director was like, come on ya’ll, why are we so sad. Michael wouldn’t want you to be sad and he just broke out into song. ABC 7 was exploiting some little kids who couldn’t even spell Michael Jackson…I’m sure they didn’t really know who he was till their mom told them. News sucks in that way. Helicopters flew overhead Some people went in and out of the house in big high profile…I’m important biatch type suv’s. Someone in a white range rover looking vehicle drove out and the black male hand in the back held up a Mike trading card. It’s one of the pink ones. Upon further inspection and a quick reference to my Mike trading card binder…it was card # 30 with the Rock With You outfit on...on tour. Yeah, it’s blurry in the picture but all I need to do is jog a memory and I be on it. YOOOOO, I just took out my binder and looked at pics of Mike! Anyway, dunno who that was. Heard from a lady who had been out there since 9 this morning that Janet flew into Van Nuys Airport around 1am. She went to See’s Candy. I dunno the accuracy of the report. I’m just telling ya’ll what I heard. Randy came or left earlier in a car. I honestly have not really grasped why I was out there. I was just out there fellowshipping. I read all the posters and saw the Mexican people praying candles, but it still hasn’t hit me. The EXACT reason why I was out there. Some stank ass white dude. YEA I SAID IT. Just walks up to me and is like so have you seen anyone. I want to see Janet. I never cared too much for Michael. I want to see Janet. Then he goes on to talk to some chick about speculated personal issues so I just had to tune is bitch ass out cuz I was not about to stand for such insolence on an occasion such as this. I hate people. Some mixed young adults drove in and out. Prolly some the Jacksons offspring. I dunno. Someone said that some dude driving an SUV that went into the gate was a member of 3T. Chile, I couldn’t tell you. I aint seen them since 1996 and I hope to go they don’t look as delicate as they did then. There was an SUV from Georgia that rolled out. So I hear from a source, Hayvenhurst (sorry I thought all of my life until I moved here that the name of the property was Hayvenhurst, so now that I know that is just the street it is on...I am still stuck calling it Hayvenhurst for the bunch of ya’ll who don’t know an texted me back all clueless)…Anyway, I hear from a source that Hayvenhurst was originally a bunch of bungalows, but Mike had them connected some how and Mike used to walk to Gelsons. That’s a supermarket. Up the street. The house supposedly sits pretty far back so when the gate opened all you could see was a garage and security guards in dark suits…and sometimes a small dark dog.
It was not under the current circumstances that I hoped to visit Hayvenhurst. But I did…thanks to support from family, friend, and sorors. This is the longest I have gone without crying since the news broke. Last night my eyes were swollen and very sore so I had to close them. Last time I cried was when Pam called me around 5 something this evening. This feels very surreal. Like an out of body experience. Like I am aware that this is going on, but I am also not fully recognizing or understanding the gravity of the situation. It’s like (yea, I say like a lot) when I am constantly moving I can function, but the minute I sit still that Mike Grief Monkey be on me. I dug out my “I Love Michael Jackson” pin back button and wore it to Hayvenhurst. I will wear it for a while. I have two of them and a Jesse (scratch through Jesse’s name) Michael Jackson for President button. I ordered those back in the day when there wasn’t an eBay. Some middle eastern dude from Cali used to make a Xeroxed catalog and ship them to you upon request and you’d mail in your order form and money order. Yea, I’m old school. Straight 1999 up in this piece! I don’t remember how I even found out how to write to the dude. Prolly the internet. I used to post up in the Mehlville library my Junior year just printing out all kinds of free stuff on the Jacksons. SHOUT OUT TO THE LIBRBARIANS AT MEHLVLLE HIGH WHO SAT ASIDE ALL OLD JET MAGAZINES WITH MIKE ON THE COVER FOR ME, FOR FREE! I cannot believe how close their house is to Ventura. I thought it was going to be way up yonder in the cut and around a mountain…I had rolled right past their house on my way to the Bank of America up the street. You could actually take public transportation there if you had to and walk 1 block, then BAM!
Darren, I guess the egg deal is off. You won’t be able to get Mike to attend my wedding. Ma aint gonna make him a plate of mostcocholi (prolly spelled that wrong). He aint gonna tap me on my shoulder during my first dance and scare the living bejesus daylight out of me. I won’t collapse to the floor in weep filled hysteria at the sight of him He wont slow dance with me. THIS WAS A PART OF A DREAM I HAD. Darren wants to Debbie Rowe me for some cheerin’ and I agreed if he could get Mike to attend my wedding as a personal special guest of the bride. I just wanted him to chill with the family. He aint gotta sing, moonwalk, make a speech. Just be there for me. That was my dream.
I keep seeing his eyes. This just can’t be true. This is the first death close to me. Yea, some family members died, but I had no real connection with them. I am not sure if I am handling this well. I think I am going to need to talk to people or show off some of my Mike stuff to those close to me. Trying to find a therapeutic way to get through this and keep Michaeling (Yes, it’s a verb)
Bad Morning! I wonder if I’ll greet each day with bad morning for the rest of my life.
10:00am
Better morning than yesterday, still Bad though. I got like 7 hours of sleep. Maybe I’ll lose weight. I haven’t been able to eat a lot since it happened. I’ve had a bowl of cereal, some french fries, a granola bar, a biscuit, orange juice, water, and pink lemonade. I called off work yesterday. The people there aren’t sensitive to my needs and I was surely going to cry and scare the customers at random. They don’t know how big of a fan I am. I don’t feel as alive as I did before. Like, some part of me has died with him. He wrote that song Gone Too Soon for Ryan, now we can play it for him. You know, I am numb today. Maybe that is why I am so scrambled and blah. Crap! I have packed up all of my photo albums. The Destiny Tour from London has been in my mind today. I can just see it playing. On Blame It On The Boogie mike sings…I just can’t control my feet. I just can’t control my feet, my feet they just keep on movin… He called Tito a frog. I feel nervous. I have been feeling that a lot. Last night I reflected on my cry when I heard. I have never cried so hard. It was gut-wrenching. I haven never heard such a sorrowful sound in my life. That’s what I feel, sorrow. I don’t know what to do. I just really don’t know what to do. I’m so angry. I told Darren if there is foul-play discovered that person responsible should be allowed to perish at the hands of the fans. I’d really do physical harm to someone for taking him away from me. Like, we could quarter him, use some Nazi/Iraqi torture techniques and let him hang from the town square and slowly die in pain. Oh, have you ever seen him smile? Oh that smile… it just warms my heart and twinkles my toes.
It was not under the current circumstances that I hoped to visit Hayvenhurst. But I did…thanks to support from family, friend, and sorors. This is the longest I have gone without crying since the news broke. Last night my eyes were swollen and very sore so I had to close them. Last time I cried was when Pam called me around 5 something this evening. This feels very surreal. Like an out of body experience. Like I am aware that this is going on, but I am also not fully recognizing or understanding the gravity of the situation. It’s like (yea, I say like a lot) when I am constantly moving I can function, but the minute I sit still that Mike Grief Monkey be on me. I dug out my “I Love Michael Jackson” pin back button and wore it to Hayvenhurst. I will wear it for a while. I have two of them and a Jesse (scratch through Jesse’s name) Michael Jackson for President button. I ordered those back in the day when there wasn’t an eBay. Some middle eastern dude from Cali used to make a Xeroxed catalog and ship them to you upon request and you’d mail in your order form and money order. Yea, I’m old school. Straight 1999 up in this piece! I don’t remember how I even found out how to write to the dude. Prolly the internet. I used to post up in the Mehlville library my Junior year just printing out all kinds of free stuff on the Jacksons. SHOUT OUT TO THE LIBRBARIANS AT MEHLVLLE HIGH WHO SAT ASIDE ALL OLD JET MAGAZINES WITH MIKE ON THE COVER FOR ME, FOR FREE! I cannot believe how close their house is to Ventura. I thought it was going to be way up yonder in the cut and around a mountain…I had rolled right past their house on my way to the Bank of America up the street. You could actually take public transportation there if you had to and walk 1 block, then BAM!
Darren, I guess the egg deal is off. You won’t be able to get Mike to attend my wedding. Ma aint gonna make him a plate of mostcocholi (prolly spelled that wrong). He aint gonna tap me on my shoulder during my first dance and scare the living bejesus daylight out of me. I won’t collapse to the floor in weep filled hysteria at the sight of him He wont slow dance with me. THIS WAS A PART OF A DREAM I HAD. Darren wants to Debbie Rowe me for some cheerin’ and I agreed if he could get Mike to attend my wedding as a personal special guest of the bride. I just wanted him to chill with the family. He aint gotta sing, moonwalk, make a speech. Just be there for me. That was my dream.
I keep seeing his eyes. This just can’t be true. This is the first death close to me. Yea, some family members died, but I had no real connection with them. I am not sure if I am handling this well. I think I am going to need to talk to people or show off some of my Mike stuff to those close to me. Trying to find a therapeutic way to get through this and keep Michaeling (Yes, it’s a verb)
Bad Morning! I wonder if I’ll greet each day with bad morning for the rest of my life.
10:00am
Better morning than yesterday, still Bad though. I got like 7 hours of sleep. Maybe I’ll lose weight. I haven’t been able to eat a lot since it happened. I’ve had a bowl of cereal, some french fries, a granola bar, a biscuit, orange juice, water, and pink lemonade. I called off work yesterday. The people there aren’t sensitive to my needs and I was surely going to cry and scare the customers at random. They don’t know how big of a fan I am. I don’t feel as alive as I did before. Like, some part of me has died with him. He wrote that song Gone Too Soon for Ryan, now we can play it for him. You know, I am numb today. Maybe that is why I am so scrambled and blah. Crap! I have packed up all of my photo albums. The Destiny Tour from London has been in my mind today. I can just see it playing. On Blame It On The Boogie mike sings…I just can’t control my feet. I just can’t control my feet, my feet they just keep on movin… He called Tito a frog. I feel nervous. I have been feeling that a lot. Last night I reflected on my cry when I heard. I have never cried so hard. It was gut-wrenching. I haven never heard such a sorrowful sound in my life. That’s what I feel, sorrow. I don’t know what to do. I just really don’t know what to do. I’m so angry. I told Darren if there is foul-play discovered that person responsible should be allowed to perish at the hands of the fans. I’d really do physical harm to someone for taking him away from me. Like, we could quarter him, use some Nazi/Iraqi torture techniques and let him hang from the town square and slowly die in pain. Oh, have you ever seen him smile? Oh that smile… it just warms my heart and twinkles my toes.
June 27-28 2009
June 27-28 2009
I submerged myself. Thanks to Taryn I went out to Mingle & Plei and the DJ played a lot of Mike. The TVs were also on VH1’s Mike tribute. I got to hear lovely one, heart break hotel, and can you feel it aloud. I got to watch MJ videos for the 1st time on a large screen. The DJ played remember the time, shakebadadown, working day and night, etc, etc. For the first time in my life, I seriously danced to a Michael Jackson song in public. Now, when I’m by myself I be live and in concert. Gesturing like Mike, Ooh Chhooing and everything. I was just mesmerized to sit and watch the long version of Bad and I played the air guitar with Mac on Black or White and even got brave and watched the monster part of Thriller without covering my face. I was trying to be brave because I was in public. In keeping with my eye-it is; I was in adoration of something as simple as his eyes moving from side to side. That eyeliner sets them off! I be like, ooh, his eyes moved. They are really beautiful when he looks down and to the side. Chevonne and I did the Thriller choreography in our seats. It felt good to be able to get out my grief through dance. I just about rolled my ankle trying to kick my leg on Shakeabadadown, but hey. Also, an anomaly happened…I was dancing and holding back tears. Usually dancing signifies happiness, but a few times I had to bat my eyes like hell to stop the tears from flowing. I also shared my Mike trading cards with Chevonne. I just needed to share some of my collection with somebody so I brought them down to the valley with me today.
I realized something. My dream where I am Chris Tucker’s girlfriend won’t come true. In it Chris and I are sitting at the edge of the bed. We just came back from somewhere and I pitifully lay my head on his shoulder and say in my most innocent 5 yr old voice…Chris, I wonder what Michael’s doing. Chris, can we go to Michael’s house? I don’t think I dreamt long enough to see if he said yes or no. Again, that’s my eye-it is. I like people with big and/or interesting eyes. Terry was my fave member of En Vogue for the same reason and I was all of 10 when they came out.
Before I left to go down to the valley I window chalked a message on my rear window. It reads MICHAEL JACKSON FOREVER. WE LOVE YOU! And I taped one of my glitter gloves to the inside of the window. Kiva, thanks for making me cry. Hands down, what you said in that email is in my top 3 life compliments. I am tearing up now as I type this. Another thing that I have noticed. I haven’t been eating. Today I had my first real meal since Thursday before the news broke. I still only had a drink from Sonic, BBQ and a soda at Susan’s, and ¼ of a pancake meal from IHOP today. I don’t know if my mind is confusing the pain in my stomach with the pain in my heart or what. I just don’t feel compelled to eat.
Chevonne and I stopped by Mike’s star on the walk of fame around 4 something this morning…yea, about 1 ½ hrs ago. It’s 5:30am now. The flowers were stacked up so high and there was no wait. Some radio station had a big corkboard sign made in tribute to Mike and there were all kinds of Mexican people praying candles, and letters. It is just so hard to wrap my mind around this. I just really don’t understand why? Why God? I teared up while talking to an older black dude out there. We both agree with this whole thing feels unreal. The Roosevelt Hotel a tribute to Mike on its Marquee. People make me sick. There was a French chick out there taking pics in front of the memorial like it was a backdrop at the club. It was some black chicks out there too, taking pics down by his star. It sickens me. This is not a time to be cheesin' for a picture. This is in memory. I have no desire whatsoever to have someone take a picture of me next to a Mike memorial. I feel it is disrespectful. Those people out there didn’t love or know and appreciate him and his music the way I do. Anger courses through my veins as I ponder the wrong that has been done to this world by his passing. Like, I see it. I read it, but I don’t think it has really sunk in that he is gone. I don’t know if I can ever accept that. “This is total BS,” as Bulldog would say. I am going to keep praying with all of my might that I am going to wake up one day and this will all be a lie. Did he wake up Thursday at all? Did he not feel well? Why did the Dr Dude wait so damn long to call 911? Straight up, Mike was gone way before he called. The dude who called 911 said the Dr had been working for more than 30 min to no avail. He was gone at 11 something…I was at the library. Where were the children? I pray for their well being. My left eye has been hurting since last night. I hope ya’ll don’t mind, but I am going to keep sending my nightly thoughts until I can get closure, if that’s possible or until I run out of words to express my sorrow. Speaking of sorrow…
In my darkest hour
In my deepest despair
Will you still care?
Will you be there?
In my trials
And in my tribulations
Through my doubts
And frustrations
In my violence
In my turbulence
Through my fear
And my confessions
In my anguish and my pain
Through my joy and my SORROW
In the promise of
Another tomorrow
I’ll never let you part
For You’re always in my heart
~ Will You Be There by Michael Jackson
I submerged myself. Thanks to Taryn I went out to Mingle & Plei and the DJ played a lot of Mike. The TVs were also on VH1’s Mike tribute. I got to hear lovely one, heart break hotel, and can you feel it aloud. I got to watch MJ videos for the 1st time on a large screen. The DJ played remember the time, shakebadadown, working day and night, etc, etc. For the first time in my life, I seriously danced to a Michael Jackson song in public. Now, when I’m by myself I be live and in concert. Gesturing like Mike, Ooh Chhooing and everything. I was just mesmerized to sit and watch the long version of Bad and I played the air guitar with Mac on Black or White and even got brave and watched the monster part of Thriller without covering my face. I was trying to be brave because I was in public. In keeping with my eye-it is; I was in adoration of something as simple as his eyes moving from side to side. That eyeliner sets them off! I be like, ooh, his eyes moved. They are really beautiful when he looks down and to the side. Chevonne and I did the Thriller choreography in our seats. It felt good to be able to get out my grief through dance. I just about rolled my ankle trying to kick my leg on Shakeabadadown, but hey. Also, an anomaly happened…I was dancing and holding back tears. Usually dancing signifies happiness, but a few times I had to bat my eyes like hell to stop the tears from flowing. I also shared my Mike trading cards with Chevonne. I just needed to share some of my collection with somebody so I brought them down to the valley with me today.
I realized something. My dream where I am Chris Tucker’s girlfriend won’t come true. In it Chris and I are sitting at the edge of the bed. We just came back from somewhere and I pitifully lay my head on his shoulder and say in my most innocent 5 yr old voice…Chris, I wonder what Michael’s doing. Chris, can we go to Michael’s house? I don’t think I dreamt long enough to see if he said yes or no. Again, that’s my eye-it is. I like people with big and/or interesting eyes. Terry was my fave member of En Vogue for the same reason and I was all of 10 when they came out.
Before I left to go down to the valley I window chalked a message on my rear window. It reads MICHAEL JACKSON FOREVER. WE LOVE YOU! And I taped one of my glitter gloves to the inside of the window. Kiva, thanks for making me cry. Hands down, what you said in that email is in my top 3 life compliments. I am tearing up now as I type this. Another thing that I have noticed. I haven’t been eating. Today I had my first real meal since Thursday before the news broke. I still only had a drink from Sonic, BBQ and a soda at Susan’s, and ¼ of a pancake meal from IHOP today. I don’t know if my mind is confusing the pain in my stomach with the pain in my heart or what. I just don’t feel compelled to eat.
Chevonne and I stopped by Mike’s star on the walk of fame around 4 something this morning…yea, about 1 ½ hrs ago. It’s 5:30am now. The flowers were stacked up so high and there was no wait. Some radio station had a big corkboard sign made in tribute to Mike and there were all kinds of Mexican people praying candles, and letters. It is just so hard to wrap my mind around this. I just really don’t understand why? Why God? I teared up while talking to an older black dude out there. We both agree with this whole thing feels unreal. The Roosevelt Hotel a tribute to Mike on its Marquee. People make me sick. There was a French chick out there taking pics in front of the memorial like it was a backdrop at the club. It was some black chicks out there too, taking pics down by his star. It sickens me. This is not a time to be cheesin' for a picture. This is in memory. I have no desire whatsoever to have someone take a picture of me next to a Mike memorial. I feel it is disrespectful. Those people out there didn’t love or know and appreciate him and his music the way I do. Anger courses through my veins as I ponder the wrong that has been done to this world by his passing. Like, I see it. I read it, but I don’t think it has really sunk in that he is gone. I don’t know if I can ever accept that. “This is total BS,” as Bulldog would say. I am going to keep praying with all of my might that I am going to wake up one day and this will all be a lie. Did he wake up Thursday at all? Did he not feel well? Why did the Dr Dude wait so damn long to call 911? Straight up, Mike was gone way before he called. The dude who called 911 said the Dr had been working for more than 30 min to no avail. He was gone at 11 something…I was at the library. Where were the children? I pray for their well being. My left eye has been hurting since last night. I hope ya’ll don’t mind, but I am going to keep sending my nightly thoughts until I can get closure, if that’s possible or until I run out of words to express my sorrow. Speaking of sorrow…
In my darkest hour
In my deepest despair
Will you still care?
Will you be there?
In my trials
And in my tribulations
Through my doubts
And frustrations
In my violence
In my turbulence
Through my fear
And my confessions
In my anguish and my pain
Through my joy and my SORROW
In the promise of
Another tomorrow
I’ll never let you part
For You’re always in my heart
~ Will You Be There by Michael Jackson
June 26, 2009
June 26, 2009
I was up so late my eyes burned a deep hot maddening red until 1 something this morning…just to wake up at 5:34am and wallow in despair. I don’t know how I am supposed to get through this. There is a gaping hole in my heart. I can’t hear his music, it hurts too bad. I can look at the picture of him I have as my screensaver, but his fedora obscures his face. If I were white I would have committed suicide by now. How am I to avoid the pain that is sure to come as soon as I leave the house today? I like that Keri Hilson song with Kanye saying “now im bad read bad Michael Jackson, now im mad real mad Joe Jackson.” He finds clever ways to mention Mike. Lord, the children. What about the children. I could not fathom losing my only parent at such a young age. I just don’t understand. Is this a hoax? Some kind of cruel joke? How is it that I wake up this morning to breath another day and he is not somewhere in this world doing the same. I don’t know if I can go to work today if I am called in. I have been feeling nervous. Butterflies abound in my stomach. I hope he found love. I haven’t and to date I really don’t feel as if I belong or really have a purpose in someone’s life. People have kids, husbands, significant others, I just have me. I don’t really feel like I am an intricate part of anyone’s life. I just kind of float around being impressionable, but having no real lasting effect. Maybe that’s what drew me to him, the solitude. I want to hang a banner from the highway, or write a note to him across the rear window of my car in that soccer mom window chalk, but I don’t know if I can execute it. If I ever thought Bernie Mack was something I could not accept, this will surely haunt me for the rest of my days. Why would he be taken from us? I just don’t understand. It’s hard to be in my room and not see him. I have a Mike mouse pad. It’s bad tour. Looks like he is singing Rock With Me by his body language. He has 8 buckles down his right leg. I liked his big WWF Wrestling belts. He has such a small waist. I remember my neos made my greeting to that song. It went…Monica’s going to stroll with you all night. She’s got that 6 on her jacket… I forget how it ended. They made Erica jump out of line and kick her leg. I appreciate that guys, I really do. I just still can’t wrap my mind around this. It’s surreal. I’ve been singing Destiny a lot lately. It goes…
In this world there’s much confusion. And I’ve tasted the city life and it’s not for me. Now I do dream of distant places. Where I don’t know now, but it’s destiny.
If it’s the rich life, I don’t want it. Happiness aint always material things. I want destiny. It’s the place for me. Give me the simple life. I’m getting away from here. Let me be free. Let me be me.
I’m a man that’s for all seasons. What the city offers me aint naturally. I look to greet the stars, but there no stars to see. Gonna search this world until I find my destiny.
I wanna be far from here. Should I up and fly away so fancy free. Nobody can change my mind. I’m screaming out these words for me. While time. Destiny, ah destiny, it’s calling me. Destiny, a place for me. Ah, destiny. I want destiny. It’s the place for me.
Then it goes into the guitar solo and Marlon plays his funky air guitar. Ya’ll be sleeping on Marlon. He be back there jamming! That’s from the Destiny album, 1978. They were on CBS Records before CBS turned into Epic. I don’t know how I am going to face this day.
I was up so late my eyes burned a deep hot maddening red until 1 something this morning…just to wake up at 5:34am and wallow in despair. I don’t know how I am supposed to get through this. There is a gaping hole in my heart. I can’t hear his music, it hurts too bad. I can look at the picture of him I have as my screensaver, but his fedora obscures his face. If I were white I would have committed suicide by now. How am I to avoid the pain that is sure to come as soon as I leave the house today? I like that Keri Hilson song with Kanye saying “now im bad read bad Michael Jackson, now im mad real mad Joe Jackson.” He finds clever ways to mention Mike. Lord, the children. What about the children. I could not fathom losing my only parent at such a young age. I just don’t understand. Is this a hoax? Some kind of cruel joke? How is it that I wake up this morning to breath another day and he is not somewhere in this world doing the same. I don’t know if I can go to work today if I am called in. I have been feeling nervous. Butterflies abound in my stomach. I hope he found love. I haven’t and to date I really don’t feel as if I belong or really have a purpose in someone’s life. People have kids, husbands, significant others, I just have me. I don’t really feel like I am an intricate part of anyone’s life. I just kind of float around being impressionable, but having no real lasting effect. Maybe that’s what drew me to him, the solitude. I want to hang a banner from the highway, or write a note to him across the rear window of my car in that soccer mom window chalk, but I don’t know if I can execute it. If I ever thought Bernie Mack was something I could not accept, this will surely haunt me for the rest of my days. Why would he be taken from us? I just don’t understand. It’s hard to be in my room and not see him. I have a Mike mouse pad. It’s bad tour. Looks like he is singing Rock With Me by his body language. He has 8 buckles down his right leg. I liked his big WWF Wrestling belts. He has such a small waist. I remember my neos made my greeting to that song. It went…Monica’s going to stroll with you all night. She’s got that 6 on her jacket… I forget how it ended. They made Erica jump out of line and kick her leg. I appreciate that guys, I really do. I just still can’t wrap my mind around this. It’s surreal. I’ve been singing Destiny a lot lately. It goes…
In this world there’s much confusion. And I’ve tasted the city life and it’s not for me. Now I do dream of distant places. Where I don’t know now, but it’s destiny.
If it’s the rich life, I don’t want it. Happiness aint always material things. I want destiny. It’s the place for me. Give me the simple life. I’m getting away from here. Let me be free. Let me be me.
I’m a man that’s for all seasons. What the city offers me aint naturally. I look to greet the stars, but there no stars to see. Gonna search this world until I find my destiny.
I wanna be far from here. Should I up and fly away so fancy free. Nobody can change my mind. I’m screaming out these words for me. While time. Destiny, ah destiny, it’s calling me. Destiny, a place for me. Ah, destiny. I want destiny. It’s the place for me.
Then it goes into the guitar solo and Marlon plays his funky air guitar. Ya’ll be sleeping on Marlon. He be back there jamming! That’s from the Destiny album, 1978. They were on CBS Records before CBS turned into Epic. I don’t know how I am going to face this day.
June 25, 2009
June 25, 2009
Never have I felt so much pain and wept an ache inducing cry. Now I know how it feels to lose someone you love. I don’t know how me waking to see another day will be. I have lost my hope. That shining bauble, just out of reach, but there….there for me in so many ways. What is this world without magic, without love, without enchantment? The world is forever changed and never the same. From this day forth I feel kind of shell shocked. A shell of my former self. Walking zombie-like through life without my hope. My fanciful hope. I recently started thinking and working on ways to get to London. That was what I was going to greet everyday with…Get to London. Now what? I honestly feel like god has forsaken me or something. He knew I was holding on to Mike to get through the day-to-day which is my life and now he has taken him away from me. What do I have left? The music of course. Man, the way the base line just courses through my body on errthang off the wall. Or the attack of the lyrics on BAD and Dangerous. I was waiting for him to do the nina pop. He did the bankhead bounce in 1995. That was cool. I Liked that bob, but why did he have his shirt open on you are not alone and what was up with the nakedness. Looking like Mr. Burns, eww eww ewww! He my play uncle though. Always, like Josh and Reva.
I have lost something and someone who meant so much to me without us even meeting. It’s funny how God puts people in your life. I never even paid that dude any attention until the summer of 1998. My sister was out in South County on the job hunt and bought The Wiz on VHS. I hadn’t seen it in over 10 years, had pretty much forgot about it. As soon as I saw the Mike on the Pole with the Crows, I was mesmerized. How delicate, how warm, how friendly, how funky was he! I mean I played that tape over and over again. I even knew his parts. I loved to say “we don’t need no cabs.” It took me a month or so to learn how to moon walk in my mom’s old raggedy payless slides. My fave quote from Mike’s many quotes in the movie was …”ignorance is the night of the mind, a night without moon or star” Typing that just made me smile. Before then I was too afraid to watch the Thriller video. Yea, it totally scarred me as a small child. I was 17 when I finally watched it in its entirety (I peeked through my fingers on the monster parts). See, Mike makes me feel good. His majesty, artistry, the way he walked, the way he wiped the sweat from his brow, the way he keeps the beat with that foot, the way he pumps with his neck when he moonwalks. That pelvic thrust be killing me. He makes the simplest moves so BIG! It’s magic! I wonder… wow; God made this incredible person…and gave him the gift of song. That song is his ministry to the world. Funny how I be looking for stuff to prove he is real, that he is a brutha. Like that interview where he is eating fried chicken, or the fact that he was drinking a Budweiser on the set of We Are The World (well he had it in his hand), or when instead of saying We Don’t he said it ebonically like We Ont. Ooh, or that time I read in J. Randy Taraborelli that Mike called some chick a heifer. Ooh, and how he was talking about he liked Bar-B-Que. Ya’ll know he patented a mechanism by which to do the smooth criminal lean in concert? You know he has this way of vocal delivery which sounds like he is on the verge of crying. Check out We’ve Already had Enough. You know, he has the most beautiful eyes. The most beautiful eyes, well next to an old boyfriend I had when I was 15. Ask Darren, I was afraid to look into his eyes in 2006. I messed up and found footage of him in like 1981 shooting a Suzuki commercial in Japan and I thought he was cute and it totally fucked up my psyche. Til that time I had never seen a version of Mike that I thought was attractive. His ears didn’t change. They are still the same shape. His ears used to be darker than his face in the mid-late 80’s. Just like a black baby that is getting its color. Maybe he’ll be wherever Tupac and Elvis are. He aint gone. Ooh, and on the Dirty Diana video when he tears off his shirt he is light on the front but darker on his back. Or how in Yokohama Japan on the 2nd leg of the Bad Tour he had his hair in a ponytail and I could see his kitchen. Yea, Mike needed a touch up. Or how he calls out peoples names when they are not doing something they are supposed to. See he be singing and in the middle of the lyrics you hear …life aint so PAT at all if you live it PAT wall.
He should have worn jeans more often. He looked good in jeans in the early 80’s. One time I was in the car with Adrianne and I was singing PYT and I made the AH sound and she was like…did you just make that noise and I said yea, it’s a part of the song. I’m angry. Why couldn’t someone else die? Kobe Bryant, Bill Murray, Phil Spector, Fuckin Bin Ladin, them Mennonite men who were raping women on the commune.
By far this is the 2nd worst day of my life. Man, I be so damn tired of Katie on Moonwalker. She always doing dumb shit and Mike always gotta save her ass. And why can’t I get upstairs on the Sega Moonwalker game? Yea, I got it! I be kickin and spinning and throwing my hat and I just cant climb those damn stairs. I got up there once though, then I was stuck walking pool table to pool table cause I couldn’t figure out what to do next. I like the way he says Dodger Stadium on the last night of the Victory Tour in LA. Ooh, and Shake Your Body Down in my fave Jacksons song and why does Mike yell break it down at least 9 times (I counted) during the performance. Ooh, years and years ago I had a dream that we were at a sleep over on the Scream set. The dream was in black and white like the video and I accidentally touched Mike’s face and he got mad at me. He just glared at me. That was scary. With all the surgery he had he could still make facial expressions.
This makes no sense. Senseless. I just don’t understand why? Ooh and Mike does a funky, come here girl finger to the ladies. His fingers are long, like he has an extra joint or something. I have a picture of him kissing a black girl in concert in the late 70’s early 80’s. I always tell people…when I get the space modulator from Marvin the Martian and the Flux Capacitor for Marty McFly, I am going back in time to be Mike’s friend. Just a friend…to shoot the breeze with and talk malarkey, he wouldn’t want me to say shit. I feel that there is no way to live your life healthy, death comes upon you not matter how skinny or fat you are so just live and die. Like we could just philosophize about stuff. Maybe he wouldn’t have had so many nose jobs if someone really saw the beauty in him. I see it. Wouldn’t it be weird if he never had a nose job but still lost his color? In this warped way of thinking, maybe things happen for a reason. I like the way he breaths at the end of ballads. Like on I’ll be there and she’s out of my life. He made an art out or breathing between words. I can just close my eyes and be transplanted to a place. That place is Michael Jackson or maybe Neverland. I just recently, like in the past month, realized that Mike is a place for me. A place in my mind and heart where there is happiness and I am whole, I am at peace. He is my Someone in the Dark. He never had a lot of lips. Just added that red lipstick. Funny, red lipstick. You know who could get it? Jackie Jackson. That dude had mad body! I find myself looking at his pecks and totally ignoring Mike. I can just see the sweat drippin all over his body (in shenene from martin voice). Jackie was fuin in those 1970’s standards. I don’t know what to do. I don’t want my phone to ring because I hear Mike’s voice. I don’t want to see my screen saver cause I see Mike during dress rehearsal in Japan on the Bad Tour. I don’t want to open my closet cause I don’t want to see my collection of Mike stuff. Guess I am in denial. Glad I don’t have TV or the internet. I’m sure my composure would not be decent enough to lay out my thoughts.
Let’s see. In 2007 I went to a fan event and Joe Jackson was there. We were in the same room. I had a giddy moment. I thought…OMG IM BREATHING TO SAME AIR AS MICHAEL JACKSON’S DADDY! He looks just as mean in person too. I don’t see how Mike put on all of that make up every day. I hate taking off make up when I come back from the club n stuff. His eyeliner was cool during the BAD days. It’s like his eyes can see through to your soul. They are soothing and kinda whisper…hi, how you doin? No worries. I think he would smell funny. Like, not a bad smell, but a unique Michael Jackson smell. Why did he have carebear power coming out of his shirt on captain Eo? He was really funny looking in 1985 when he was way lighter than the thriller days, but still had his dark Michael Jackson healthy face and the short curl. I am starting to think he had a couple of tracks for the BAD album. His hair was really long in 2 years. It was like a leisure curl. Why did he tear of randy’s cloth on Victory Tour? Hey, I went to see Stars on Ice in 2006 in the same arena he started the BAD Tour in 1987. I was like AHH MICHAEL JACKSON WAS HERE 20 YEARS AGO! I saw Michelle Kwan and Syryah Bonaly. They were awesome! It’s Only A Movie! He sure was chomping that popcorn on Thriller. I would have walked through a graveyard with him any night. His eyebrows were always immaculately arched and to quote J. Randy Taraborelli…”his lips were glossed to a subtle sheen.” Ahhh, the eyes again. I call it eye-itis. Wasn’t it the weirdest thing when he kissed the lisa marie chick? They wanna get my ass dead or alive. Don Sneddon is a cold man indeed. Hey, Mike cussed. Maybe I can say shit.
No worries, all I have is worries. I have watched Ghostbusters, Who Framed Roger Rabbit and some of Amelie and it all seems like blur. I heard off the wall at like 10:30 something this morning. I was jamming all the way to wherever it is I was going. I was texting bruh dav diggler around the time the 9-1-1 call came in. 12:21pm 12:24pm. I did eat a bowl of cereal this evening. Never in my life have I cried out loud. I sobbed, I slobbed…all while driving home to be alone and stew in my grief. I’m not done though. I haven’t been able to share my grief in the company of other fans who love him. WHO LOVE HIM. THERE IS NO PAST TENSE HERE, the way I do. Im’a leave you with something beautiful…
There have been others, but never two lovers like music and me….
Im’a leave it there. Yea, that feels like an ending, but not the end.
Never have I felt so much pain and wept an ache inducing cry. Now I know how it feels to lose someone you love. I don’t know how me waking to see another day will be. I have lost my hope. That shining bauble, just out of reach, but there….there for me in so many ways. What is this world without magic, without love, without enchantment? The world is forever changed and never the same. From this day forth I feel kind of shell shocked. A shell of my former self. Walking zombie-like through life without my hope. My fanciful hope. I recently started thinking and working on ways to get to London. That was what I was going to greet everyday with…Get to London. Now what? I honestly feel like god has forsaken me or something. He knew I was holding on to Mike to get through the day-to-day which is my life and now he has taken him away from me. What do I have left? The music of course. Man, the way the base line just courses through my body on errthang off the wall. Or the attack of the lyrics on BAD and Dangerous. I was waiting for him to do the nina pop. He did the bankhead bounce in 1995. That was cool. I Liked that bob, but why did he have his shirt open on you are not alone and what was up with the nakedness. Looking like Mr. Burns, eww eww ewww! He my play uncle though. Always, like Josh and Reva.
I have lost something and someone who meant so much to me without us even meeting. It’s funny how God puts people in your life. I never even paid that dude any attention until the summer of 1998. My sister was out in South County on the job hunt and bought The Wiz on VHS. I hadn’t seen it in over 10 years, had pretty much forgot about it. As soon as I saw the Mike on the Pole with the Crows, I was mesmerized. How delicate, how warm, how friendly, how funky was he! I mean I played that tape over and over again. I even knew his parts. I loved to say “we don’t need no cabs.” It took me a month or so to learn how to moon walk in my mom’s old raggedy payless slides. My fave quote from Mike’s many quotes in the movie was …”ignorance is the night of the mind, a night without moon or star” Typing that just made me smile. Before then I was too afraid to watch the Thriller video. Yea, it totally scarred me as a small child. I was 17 when I finally watched it in its entirety (I peeked through my fingers on the monster parts). See, Mike makes me feel good. His majesty, artistry, the way he walked, the way he wiped the sweat from his brow, the way he keeps the beat with that foot, the way he pumps with his neck when he moonwalks. That pelvic thrust be killing me. He makes the simplest moves so BIG! It’s magic! I wonder… wow; God made this incredible person…and gave him the gift of song. That song is his ministry to the world. Funny how I be looking for stuff to prove he is real, that he is a brutha. Like that interview where he is eating fried chicken, or the fact that he was drinking a Budweiser on the set of We Are The World (well he had it in his hand), or when instead of saying We Don’t he said it ebonically like We Ont. Ooh, or that time I read in J. Randy Taraborelli that Mike called some chick a heifer. Ooh, and how he was talking about he liked Bar-B-Que. Ya’ll know he patented a mechanism by which to do the smooth criminal lean in concert? You know he has this way of vocal delivery which sounds like he is on the verge of crying. Check out We’ve Already had Enough. You know, he has the most beautiful eyes. The most beautiful eyes, well next to an old boyfriend I had when I was 15. Ask Darren, I was afraid to look into his eyes in 2006. I messed up and found footage of him in like 1981 shooting a Suzuki commercial in Japan and I thought he was cute and it totally fucked up my psyche. Til that time I had never seen a version of Mike that I thought was attractive. His ears didn’t change. They are still the same shape. His ears used to be darker than his face in the mid-late 80’s. Just like a black baby that is getting its color. Maybe he’ll be wherever Tupac and Elvis are. He aint gone. Ooh, and on the Dirty Diana video when he tears off his shirt he is light on the front but darker on his back. Or how in Yokohama Japan on the 2nd leg of the Bad Tour he had his hair in a ponytail and I could see his kitchen. Yea, Mike needed a touch up. Or how he calls out peoples names when they are not doing something they are supposed to. See he be singing and in the middle of the lyrics you hear …life aint so PAT at all if you live it PAT wall.
He should have worn jeans more often. He looked good in jeans in the early 80’s. One time I was in the car with Adrianne and I was singing PYT and I made the AH sound and she was like…did you just make that noise and I said yea, it’s a part of the song. I’m angry. Why couldn’t someone else die? Kobe Bryant, Bill Murray, Phil Spector, Fuckin Bin Ladin, them Mennonite men who were raping women on the commune.
By far this is the 2nd worst day of my life. Man, I be so damn tired of Katie on Moonwalker. She always doing dumb shit and Mike always gotta save her ass. And why can’t I get upstairs on the Sega Moonwalker game? Yea, I got it! I be kickin and spinning and throwing my hat and I just cant climb those damn stairs. I got up there once though, then I was stuck walking pool table to pool table cause I couldn’t figure out what to do next. I like the way he says Dodger Stadium on the last night of the Victory Tour in LA. Ooh, and Shake Your Body Down in my fave Jacksons song and why does Mike yell break it down at least 9 times (I counted) during the performance. Ooh, years and years ago I had a dream that we were at a sleep over on the Scream set. The dream was in black and white like the video and I accidentally touched Mike’s face and he got mad at me. He just glared at me. That was scary. With all the surgery he had he could still make facial expressions.
This makes no sense. Senseless. I just don’t understand why? Ooh and Mike does a funky, come here girl finger to the ladies. His fingers are long, like he has an extra joint or something. I have a picture of him kissing a black girl in concert in the late 70’s early 80’s. I always tell people…when I get the space modulator from Marvin the Martian and the Flux Capacitor for Marty McFly, I am going back in time to be Mike’s friend. Just a friend…to shoot the breeze with and talk malarkey, he wouldn’t want me to say shit. I feel that there is no way to live your life healthy, death comes upon you not matter how skinny or fat you are so just live and die. Like we could just philosophize about stuff. Maybe he wouldn’t have had so many nose jobs if someone really saw the beauty in him. I see it. Wouldn’t it be weird if he never had a nose job but still lost his color? In this warped way of thinking, maybe things happen for a reason. I like the way he breaths at the end of ballads. Like on I’ll be there and she’s out of my life. He made an art out or breathing between words. I can just close my eyes and be transplanted to a place. That place is Michael Jackson or maybe Neverland. I just recently, like in the past month, realized that Mike is a place for me. A place in my mind and heart where there is happiness and I am whole, I am at peace. He is my Someone in the Dark. He never had a lot of lips. Just added that red lipstick. Funny, red lipstick. You know who could get it? Jackie Jackson. That dude had mad body! I find myself looking at his pecks and totally ignoring Mike. I can just see the sweat drippin all over his body (in shenene from martin voice). Jackie was fuin in those 1970’s standards. I don’t know what to do. I don’t want my phone to ring because I hear Mike’s voice. I don’t want to see my screen saver cause I see Mike during dress rehearsal in Japan on the Bad Tour. I don’t want to open my closet cause I don’t want to see my collection of Mike stuff. Guess I am in denial. Glad I don’t have TV or the internet. I’m sure my composure would not be decent enough to lay out my thoughts.
Let’s see. In 2007 I went to a fan event and Joe Jackson was there. We were in the same room. I had a giddy moment. I thought…OMG IM BREATHING TO SAME AIR AS MICHAEL JACKSON’S DADDY! He looks just as mean in person too. I don’t see how Mike put on all of that make up every day. I hate taking off make up when I come back from the club n stuff. His eyeliner was cool during the BAD days. It’s like his eyes can see through to your soul. They are soothing and kinda whisper…hi, how you doin? No worries. I think he would smell funny. Like, not a bad smell, but a unique Michael Jackson smell. Why did he have carebear power coming out of his shirt on captain Eo? He was really funny looking in 1985 when he was way lighter than the thriller days, but still had his dark Michael Jackson healthy face and the short curl. I am starting to think he had a couple of tracks for the BAD album. His hair was really long in 2 years. It was like a leisure curl. Why did he tear of randy’s cloth on Victory Tour? Hey, I went to see Stars on Ice in 2006 in the same arena he started the BAD Tour in 1987. I was like AHH MICHAEL JACKSON WAS HERE 20 YEARS AGO! I saw Michelle Kwan and Syryah Bonaly. They were awesome! It’s Only A Movie! He sure was chomping that popcorn on Thriller. I would have walked through a graveyard with him any night. His eyebrows were always immaculately arched and to quote J. Randy Taraborelli…”his lips were glossed to a subtle sheen.” Ahhh, the eyes again. I call it eye-itis. Wasn’t it the weirdest thing when he kissed the lisa marie chick? They wanna get my ass dead or alive. Don Sneddon is a cold man indeed. Hey, Mike cussed. Maybe I can say shit.
No worries, all I have is worries. I have watched Ghostbusters, Who Framed Roger Rabbit and some of Amelie and it all seems like blur. I heard off the wall at like 10:30 something this morning. I was jamming all the way to wherever it is I was going. I was texting bruh dav diggler around the time the 9-1-1 call came in. 12:21pm 12:24pm. I did eat a bowl of cereal this evening. Never in my life have I cried out loud. I sobbed, I slobbed…all while driving home to be alone and stew in my grief. I’m not done though. I haven’t been able to share my grief in the company of other fans who love him. WHO LOVE HIM. THERE IS NO PAST TENSE HERE, the way I do. Im’a leave you with something beautiful…
There have been others, but never two lovers like music and me….
Im’a leave it there. Yea, that feels like an ending, but not the end.
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