on the recent death of Michael Jackson

So the wheels have been turning since Thursday, when Farrah Fawcett died and then of course, some guy named Michael Jackson. I was sitting on the bus, coming home from my mother's house in the suburbs when my mother called saying that MJ is either dead or on his death bed. With Farrah, it was expected--with Michael, it wasn't. I talked to the bus driver before I got off at Hazel and we were both shocked to hear that he had died. Text messaging ensued. First with Yvvone, then phone calls from Shelley. Wow. MJ is gone.

True to form, Americans have made MJ a top seller on iTunes, sharing the spotlight only with that of The Black Eyed Peas. To those people, I say this: Put down the music, walk away. You didn't realize what you had until it was gone. Fuck off. Unless you're doing it to help pay off Jackson's 457 million dollars in debt, then fine. But you're holding onto something that you gave up on many years ago. As soon as Jacko starting showing issues of being "weird" or "unorthodox" you bolted. Fuck off. You didn't deserve him.

This is not to say that I was a die hard fan. I liked some tunes--I won't lie. And when MJ came over the speakers, I would certainly head out to the dance floor. I had a Michael Jackson doll when I was a little girl and the making of the Thriller video casette (directed by John Landis, no doubt). And while I am sad for the music communities loss, and my heart goes out to his family and his children, you will not find me taking quizzes on facebook about "Which Michael Jackson song are you?" or running out to buy his CDs. I am old enough to remember what it was like when Kurt Cobain died. How every music special on MTV was about Nirvana and we were so inundated with reports, music videos, MTV News, Unplugged...and my sister and I ate it up. We were holding onto someone because the loss was sudden--but it made it seem like he wasn't really dead, because he was everywhere. Finally, four months after that April...while watching "Heart Shaped Box" on MTV, it finally sunk in. Kurt was dead. And this is all I have left.

I still listen to Nirvana occasionally and when I do, a feeling flows through my veins of being young, confused, and utterly spent at trying to figure this world out. Those memories of my youth. I wouldn't change them for the world. And I suppose that is what the rest of these people are doing--holding on to something they were once, before they had to grow up and get responsible. Before they were to lose themselves in taxes, elections, world relations and complicated marriages/divorces. Before kids, before government bailouts, before George W. Bush.
Something from your childhood is dead, I get that. But that is no way to move forward.

I wonder what this world would be like if we mourned every soldier who has died in Iraq/Afghanistan the way we've mourned Michael Jackson. Just sayin'.