Wasn't sure when I'd be able to do another painting but Mike's recent passing has inspired me. I'm posting my progress at my art blog. You can check it out here.

I was in the theater watching Transformers when I first heard. Some people from work invited me and right before the movie started my co-worker's boyfriend said that Michael Jackson had died. I, of course, thought he'd gotten him confused with Farrah Fawcett (I can see how that might happen). The guy insisted that, no, it was Michael Jackson who'd died. My only reply was "No, he didn't." I didn't say it like "Wow, no way! Get out of here" either. I meant that he was obviously mistaken and to insist further was as insult to both of us. As far as I know that was the first time, in my adult life, that I'd ever abjectly denied a fact, because of a momentary inability to process it as such.

In retrospect I can't really blame myself for having this reaction. The man's life had become such a circus that to have someone approach you and say "Michael Jackson just died" can only be taken as the start of some kind of hilarious joke. You simply don't take something like that at face value when you encounter it. I imagine I would have the same reaction if someone informed me that Barack Obama had been assassinated. Not that I'm comparing the two, but they did both reside in the same, bigger than life, region of my brain reserved exclusively for living icons. When you consider the fact that he (Michael) was only 50 years old and there had been no reports of his failing health (unlike Mrs. Fawcett) it just makes the whole thing that much more surreal.

So today on the radio I'm hearing station after station playing tributes to him and his music. Tons of songs that I've never heard on the radio before (because they weren't prepackaged singles or lacked accompanying music videos), have been jammed down the air waves (pun intended). Most people seem for the moment ready to put aside what a freak show he'd become and instead put the spot light on what we loved about him, back when we loved him so. I think the strangest phenomenon in all of this is the people who seem genuinely offended that anyone wants to remember him fondly at all.

I see where they're coming from, though. Accusations of child molestation are the absolute zero of criminal accusations. I, for one, believe that it was not only possible but likely that he was involved in the accused behavior. The man was totally disconnected from reality. We made him into a God at a very young age and our religious fervor only got more fierce through all of his formative years. You can probably count on two hands the number of times he'd been told "No" in his adult life. Anyone would lose perspective to such an extreme degree had they lead his life. What Michael needed was help but he would never get it because he was a meal ticket for too many people and an unattainable symbol for too many others. If he was guilty of molesting children then he needed badly to be convicted and jailed for it. I would go so far as to say that, even if he wasn't guilty, he need to experience what it was to be powerless if only for a short time. That was his last, biggest hope for redemption but the powers that be would not allow it. Had it been you or I, we would be under the jail by now. but so many people wanted (needed) Michael to be free that it never really happened. And Michael? Well he was just allowed to wander his imaginary world sincerely oblivious to the concept of consequence. In his last years I felt so much pitty and bitterness and outright anger toward the man that now that he's gone I finally feel... FREE to remember him the way I want to without being constantly reminded of the twisted abortion of my memory that he had become.

.....

I remember when Motown Twenty 25 came on television. I was living in Germany at the time (my mother was military). My mom, my uncle, my three cousins and myself were all in our living room watching it on the big, floor model, television. At the time I was only vaguely aware of Michael Jackson. I'd heard, danced to, and sang along with a lot of his music before but I was not in the habit of learning who sang what, at that age. He'd simply existed as part of the sound track to my youth.

He got up on stage with his brothers and they sang "The Love You Save". I could see by the reactions of all the adults in the room and the crowd on television that this guy was kind of a big deal. They all had white sparkly outfits on and danced in perfect unison to the music. I recognized the song and sang the lyrics that I knew, (sort of hum-mumbling the rest of them). When the song was over Michael made the announcement that this would be the last time that he would be performing with the Jackson Five. His brothers then left the stage leaving Michael alone. I'm not sure when but he had changed clothes and was now wearing the black high-water pants and of course, the white glove.

He sang Billie Jean and it was utter pandemonium.

The crowd lost it's collective mind and the wave of mania was infectious. This song I knew word-for-word and I was dimly aware, even then, that I was watching something remarkable. Michael sang with a style and attitude that tried to reinvent the way you listened. He moved like he was made of atmosphere. When he threw his hat into the crowd it flew like a flaming arrow. You didn't dance or sing along to this performance. You stood in silent awe of what you were seeing and hoped that it would not end...

...and then he broke into the moonwalk.

I'm not sure how to describe what happened then other than to say that I sincerely and truly believed that I had witnessed actual magic. Something wholly arcane that defied the laws of the universe. As he effortlessly glided across the stage in the opposite direction that his legs implied my mind was blown wide open. I had never seen anything like this before and honestly a small part of me was just a little bit frightened. Maybe it was a combination of my enthusiasm and the hypnotic effect of the music but in that instant, to my child's mind, I was observing an honest to God miracle.

Michael Jackson walked on water, before my eyes, that night.

......

That's my memory of the man and I'm not going to allow my intellectual understanding of what he'd become destroy that. And frankly I don't see why I should have to.

Broadcasting now! come see

I'll be Ustreaming the newest GSC comic. If you want to catch a preview of the new addition to the GSC cast then make sure to tune in.