Friday, June 26, 2009

A Zombie Tribute and Letter to Michael Jackson

Oh, Michael, Michael, Michael. I know I'm a few days late, but I have a few things to say to you and what "you" or the idea of you has meant to me. 

You were known as the King of Pop, whatever that means, but all I know is that you were such a little genius performer when you were a just a wee lad. What emotion, what moves! What a beautiful, little man. 

Growing up, we dressed like you. One halloween, my mother made herself a convincing twin. One sequined glove and her jheri curls; it was you! She always said that nobody dances like Michael, and that's the truth. Watching Bob Fosse in The Little Prince, it was obvious that you didn't originate all your moves on your own, but you were almost better than the best. 

When I was 4 and in our White Plains living room, I first witnessed the "Thriller" video. My parents laughed, because I was so scared that I screamed in fear, with all my strength, I climbed up my father to his head, like a cat up a tree. It was one of the single most frightening moments of my life. Thanks for that.

There was a time when I was like 6 and I debated the lyrics to "Beat It" with my mom. I claimed that, "Showin' How Funky Strong Is Your Fight" was actually "you know how to f*ck it, you know what's right." My mom beat me. Thanks again. 

In high school, I saw "The Jacksons: An American Dream" on VH1, and I loved it. Joe Jackson was about as vile as it gets. My favorite scene was when you boys were practicing dance moves and Marlon had to pirouette at one point, but he just kept screwing it up, so Joe makes him get a switch and he beats him relentlessly. There were a ton of tears all around.

I was in Amman, Jordan in '95 or '96 and the English station aired that fabulous mini-series. Again, that scene inspired me. When I was 21, my cat came to live with me. I had to christen him something good, so I named him Tito. And yes, he misses you, his brother, very much.  

I have to say that beside the fact that I live with a Jackson, a furry, grey Jackson, I am actually pretty shocked and saddened that you've moved to that great big Neverland Ranch in the sky (quoting Hutin/Miami, bro). I know you've had some rough times, but you knew how to entertain and inspire.  

The video up there was performed with the lovely artists Stephanie Hutin and Christy Gast. We were sipping Strongbow at Churchill's when the bartender got the news. It was us three, an obnoxious man who asked us to buy him a bag and a lovely, friendly prostitute named Bianca or Sugar Lips. Sugar Lips was the videographer, and the other girls were the masterminds. 

Mike, I hope you like it, and I hope that there is actually a better place for you after this one. It is sad the way things here are sometimes very painful and disappointing, and had been for you. Bon voyage.  

1 comment:

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