I've had this blog space for a while now and haven't had a good reason to post to it. Now, sadly, I do.
One of my earliest memories was buying the Thriller album with my own money when I was 5. I put it on when I got home, closed my eyes and danced wildly in my best imitation of Michael as I had seen him on TV, before we had cable and MTV. I remember memorizing the Vincent Price rhyme in Thriller like it was high art. I remember breakdancing in my next-door-neighbor's basement in a performance for our parents, again all to Thriller. I remember wanting parachute pants like his more than anything in the world. I remember singing his songs at the top of my lungs in the shower--I felt powerful and so cool I couldn't stand it, and had to move, move, move. He made the 80s the 80s. He provided much of the soundtrack for the first 13 years of my life, and he provided a gestural vocabulary to a generation (the mightiest among them being Weird Al).
Michael Jackson was way more than the troubled, legendary King of Pop. He's a representation of my childhood, and maybe for Childhood in general. Someone so talented and innocent couldn't have lasted long in this world. Someone so extraordinary was bound to have a difficult time being surrounded by mortals.
He will always live on in the music, but my sadness today at his departure from this world is surprising and damn-near inconsolable.
Maybe I need to moonwalk for Michael and it'll all be a little better.
Don't stop 'til you get enough…