Jun 25, 2009

A chapter of my life, closed.

This is one of those days that start out as simpler as it can be and then... bingo. One of the icons of your youth is gone. Whoa, you think. Michael Jackson is dead.

As I sit here obviously watching CNN, MTV and other channel tributes, the only thing I can remember is this: the first LP I ever bought, the one vinyl that you remember your whole life... was Michael Jackson's Thriller. I can remember forking up my 18 bucks, a hard earned money for a teenager doing chores and other stuff so I could buy myself what now is one classic piece of music.

I think I listened to that LP a gizillion times. Of course, as anything I moved on to greener and kinkier pastures - Prince, anyone? - but it would be blasphemy if I don't acknowledge the man for being my first Jonas Brother, if you will.

I'm not going into his "love of children" stint, out of respect. I have a strong opinion on that part of his life, but for at least tonight, I'm going the happy and cool route, honoring the man that one day made me want to wear a single white glove. While I cringe at that memory now, I will not deny that I "didn't stop till I got enough" a shitload of times.

Was the man talented? Dammit of course. You just had to sit there and watch. Remember, when we were young, this man seemed to have come from outer space. In an era when The Matrix was just a weird idea in your head from time to time, when talking thru a computer or connecting with other people thru something called the internet was just simply 2090 material, this weird and skinny guy came singing and dancing like he was suspended on wires.

We were all hooked. As much as you could try to hate the guy later on in your life for many reasons as possible, admit it: at one time, you all singed Thriller, Beat It and even... dare I say, Pretty Young Thing. Ugh. That one was painful to admit.

Anyway... The weird thing about age is, there is one single moment when you gasp and say, damn, my youth is over. You don't ever think it's coming.

Today was that day for many people, including me.

Thank you Wacko Jacko for all those wonderful years of my childhood.

PS: I looked for this picture knowing that this is not the latest one of him. Hey, let's remember him as a powerful black singer and not the sick, frail white woman he became.


Teenie said...

I got Thriller as a gift at my Dad's company's kiddie Christmas party one year. We played that thing over and over again. My sister and I had posters of MJ up on our walls, and hers had faded lips from all the kissing it endured.

How the mighty have fallen.

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