Still doin' the D

The five stages of grief: Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, Acceptance.

Well, I'm still on the first "D." I keep waiting for the shows to explain that they've got it wrong. I keep waiting for the family to say "hey, guess what!" Last night, I asked someone, "Why do they keep saying he's dead??? Why would they do that???? Why would they report false news????"

This morning, I took a box of Dunkin Donuts Munchkins to the office. I explained to the group that it was a bribe. They got Munchkins in exchange for not talking about Michael. Because I just couldn't bear it anymore. After crying off and on all evening yesterday, crying myself to sleep, and waking up crying... I needed a break.

In the meantime, my minions were fast at work. I'd made a bunch of phone calls and email pleas last night to secure newspapers from across the country. I believe that I have papers from Southern California, Denver, Kansas City, Atlanta, North Carolina, New Jersey, and New York headed my way. For my part, I got a copy of all three Philadelphia papers.

When I got home, I turned on the coverage again. The tears came flowed fast and furiously this time. But mostly in anger. The man has been dead for barely a day. And it took less than that for the media to start hurling around "child molestation," "financial trouble," and "possible drug abuse." How dare they. HOW DARE THEY????

Don't get me wrong. I don't expect the shows to act as if the sun shone out of his ass. But can we let the family and the fans grieve? Can we focus on celebrating his life before we focus on the negativity? ALL of us - every. single. person. has made mistakes in our lives, have been misunderstood, and have regretted actions and or decisions. But I fervently hope that when we pass, our survivors will focus on the triumphs and the successes. And why is Michael deserving of anything less? (To that end: To Brian Oxman - FUCK YOU.)

Earlier this evening, I was thisclose to going to New York and joining the crowd at the Apollo Theater. But I feared that if I went, I'd never come home. I'd be with people who got it. People who understood my grief and sorrow. And who doesn't want to leave that comforting feeling of being understood and accepted? I also felt like trying to leave there would be much like holding the hand of a person who dies... and not wanting to let go. Because when you let go, that's the end. It's Over. And it's Real.

So I stayed home. I watched coverage all evening. At one point, I tried to get away from it by watching something I had TiVoed. I started it up, and it ended up that what I THOUGHT I had TiVoed was pre-empted last night for a show about MJ and Farrah Fawcett. So I've been crying for most of the evening. My eyes are puffy and my vision is blurred. I forgot to eat.

I think it's interesting that I posted the lyrics to "Childhood" last night and called it his "most emotionally honest and autobiographical" work, because one of the interviews that I watched today was MJ telling people who have doubts about him to listen to that song because it was "the most honest song [I] have written, and it's the most autobiographical song [I] have written."

When I was a kid, I wore a single glove for awhile. Of course, I didn't have the proper type of glove. So I was the goober who went around wearing one winter glove. In the summer of Missouri. I practiced hours so I could moonwalk. I could do the move where he danced and then jumped onto his toes. I had his videos memorised.

I bought every album he put out. Okay - that's not true. I have every album. But some of the singles and remixes were gifts. I was regularly given gifts of the MJ ilk, and as a result I have most of his older stuff on vinyl. "Thriller" was my first LP and "We Are the World" was my first vinyl single (at least that wasn't a children's read-a-long book accompaniment).

I hope he knows that I always believed in him. I never believed any of the rumors or allegations. I don't know if he bleached his skin, and I could never find it in me to give a rat's ass, other than to worry that he might have Body Dysmorphic Disorder. And, as I've said time and time again, and as I will continue to say - I will never believe anyone on this Earth who tells me that he molested anyone. Ever.

But my greatest hope now is that he has peace. That he is happy. And that he knows he was loved.

I will leave you with Seth Green's quote: There are two kinds of people in the world - Michael Jackson fans and losers.