A break from the MJ

Okay, time for a non-MJ, non-grief-stricken, non-angry post.

What fits those categories? KNITTING! or something related - SPINNING!

To be honest, I haven't touched my spindles in quite awhile. I've been wanting to get back to it, especially now that it's warm out and there are only a few projects I can bear to work on in the heat. And the upcoming Tour de Fleece on Ravelry inspired me to get back to it (proud member of Team Hoar).

So, until TdF starts, I'm in training. Whilst at the laundromat this evening, I started spinning again.

Check it out! Here's a pic of my spindle (purchased at Rhinebeck) with some of my drafted roving (Romney). And here's a pic of my pre-plied yarn. Yay!

Open Letter

Joe Jackson:

Fuck off and die. Seriously.

I hated you before for making his life hellacious. I now hate your even more (which I didn't think possible) for making a mockery of his death.

1. How dare you chide and chastise the world for not acknowledging your son and his impact? He is THE GREATEST SELLING MUSICAL ARTIST OF ALL TIME. He has sold over 100 million albums.

2. How dare you start hawking your new venture on the red carpet of a show that was seriously changed and retuned in THREE DAYS to honour your recently deceased son?

3. How dare you answer a reporter's question about how your family is doing with "great - I'm doing pretty well" a fucking THREE DAYS after your son has died?

4. How dare you respond to a reporter commenting on how difficult to last few days must have been for your family with, "AND?"

5. How dare you use this platform to issue a statement about how you and Mrs. Jackson have "sole authority" over Michael's children?

I hate you. You are a shame and a disgrace to the Jackson family. I can only hope that God has special plans for you when you die. Until then, you need to hope you and I never cross paths. Hell hath no fury like a Michael Jackson fan scorned.

Sincerely,
Min

PS. Michael - screw you for dying and giving him this opportunity to exploit you. Okay, yeah - so I've reached the anger stage in my grieving. I'll take this sentiment back in a few days. I promise.

Twitter

Because of everything else going on in my life, I'm probably taking this a bit more seriously than I need to, and I'm aware I'm taking things to heart that I shouldn't be.

However...

I am completely fucking over the Twitter thing. If you want me to know what's going on in your life, I hope you blog about it (or, you know, text me, call me, email me, write me a good old-fashioned letter). Because as of about five minutes ago, I've deleted all Twitter feeds from my Google Reader.

I find it annoying to read more replies than things of actual content that make sense to me without having to click through and reverse engineer a thread. I find it annoying to have to click through to read the end of the long twitter post. I find it annoying to have to click through to see a pic that someone has posted. It's all too fucking annoying and I'm over it.

ETA: Another example that pisses me off. Recently, a friend apparently Twittered about something. Since the Twitter feed doesn't happen in real time on Google Reader, I read all of the replies to the event before I read about the actual event from the person. Now, in this case, it didn't much matter. But if it was about an important event, I'd want to hear about it from the original source first.

Also, I just realised that I'm going to have to add back Mikey's Twitter feed or my mom will kill me.

Draw a Giraffe!

In non-MJ news, one guy bet that he could collect one million handdrawn giraffes by 2011.

Read about it here and go contribute.

Oh, and spread the word.

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.

"Gone Too Soon"

Written by Larry Grossman

Composed by Buz Kohan

Performed by Michael Jackson

"Gone Too Soon"

Like A Comet
Blazing 'Cross The Evening Sky
Gone Too Soon

Like A Rainbow
Fading In The Twinkling Of An Eye
Gone Too Soon

Shiny And Sparkly
And Splendidly Bright
Here One Day
Gone One Night

Like The Loss Of Sunlight
On A Cloudy Afternoon
Gone Too Soon

Like A Castle
Built Upon A Sandy Beach
Gone Too Soon

Like A Perfect Flower
That Is Just Beyond Your Reach
Gone Too Soon

Born To Amuse, To Inspire, To Delight
Here One Day
Gone One Night

Like A Sunset
Dying With The Rising Of The Moon
Gone Too Soon

Gone Too Soon

Inconsolable

I got home around 5:00 p.m. Mish told me that Michael Jackson had a heart attack. I started Googling. When I got internet confirmation that MJ experienced cardiac arrest (which is more serious than a heart attack), I immediately started crying.

I called Mom. She is one of few people who knows how much MJ means to me. We have a family rule - if you don't want a knock-down, drag-out fight, you don't say anything even approaching negative about MJ. The last fist fight I was in was about MJ. Someone said something about him being a child molester. I took a swing, then another, until my at-the-time boyfriend restrained me. NO ONE on this Earth will ever be able to convince me that he ever molested those kids. Don't even try. Seriously; don't.

Mom reminded me that all I could do was pray. So I did. A lot. Hard. Then Mish told me that TMZ was reporting his death. I refreshed the Google News page so much it accused me of being a bot and I had to verify my human-ness.

I am alternating between complete denial (I just told Kate that I'm waiting for the story that it's all a mistake) and sobbing hysterically.

I just posted the lyrics to one of my favourite songs of his, "Childhood." I believe this to be his more emotionally honest, autobiographical songs. When people try to tell me how "weird" he is, I point them to that song.

Kate just asked me what about him made him so important to me. I think it's a few things. The most simplistic is that he was my first vinyl. "Thriller," if you must know. Even at a young age, I recognised genius - musical, lyrical, dancing genius. Pure, unadulterated genius.

But part of me also "got" him - at least inasmuch as one can get a person who one has never met. He had a fucked up childhood; so did I. He was robbed of his childhood; so was I. But he capitalised on his talent, and he went on to become succesful despite all of that. So, to a child who grew up with alcoholics, abusive parents, and bad role models all around - that was inspiring.

Some of his songs touched my soul. Some of his music lifted my spirits no matter my mood. Some of his lyrics made me cry.

I've said before that I tend to collect the homeless puppies. Even though he was much beloved by millions of people, I think he was my first homeless puppy.

The world has suffered an enormous loss.

I hope that he is at peace, something he rarely got in his life. I hope that he may rest now, with the serenity and dignity that is due him.