I knew for sure if I saw Janet, that my emotions would succumb – that was last week. Until yesterday it all felt surreal. It hadn’t hit me. Who had died? Huh? It didn’t register with Bellini. And even with the music on heavy rotation, I wanted to shout out loud to radio – “Why can’t you play this music all the time?” Do you remember the time, when music was always happy? Or once you were free from the yoke of mama n’em you would live life off the wall – guaranteed!
Friends have commented how the mainstream media was rippin’ him to shreds. I couldn’t relate, becuz I didn’t tune in to the media. I tuned in to the music and I blasted it loud and proud whether at home or in my car. Didn’t Rihanna say, please, don’t stop the music? Yup, that sums it up for me.
And then, the day would come. Yesterday. The world was watching to the tune of 1,000,000,000. No one knew what to expect. At work, all of a sudden my desktop was sloowwwww. Boom! Like a virus was takin’ over. I informed IT, employees were streaming live coverage of the footage. And who could be mad at that? No other way to explain it. So, I called a former co-worker and put her on speaker so I could hear the live footage in my office. And then that voice, Jennifer Hudson, singing my song. Such a melancholy moment to hear her voice knowing the struggle she’s going thru and the juxtaposition of her voice bringin’ folks comfort about his homegoing.
Finally, I reached home and tuned in to the tube. There it was... the burnished coffin, gleaming in all its glory. Then to see the gloves, the Jackson 5. And Reverend Al, put in all in perspective. And then the pure innocence of childhood emoted from Paris. Gosh! The lower lids holdin’ it back like a dam, but they overflowed anyway. Heartwrenching and humbling all at the same time.
I kept being stuck on the number… 50. But then yesterday made me realize, he lived a full life. Just like a KING should. He touched so many. He loved so many. And then I realize he’s just another part of me.
cheers,
Bellini
Showing posts with label michael jackson. Show all posts
Showing posts with label michael jackson. Show all posts
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
A Paper Torn
Just like the BET awards, its now my turn to share my Michael Jackson moment! Watch out for the bandwagon!
I first learned about Michael in front of a giant floor model television (you know the ones that took most of the living room and held everything from family pictures, to a newer television on top) at my grandparents’ house. My cousin, who is a couple months older loved her some Thriller, for me, it was all about Billy Jean. Before knowing anything about paternity tests or baby momma dramas, I knew I loved walking on the title floor squares-wishing they would light up. And because adult folks love getting free entertainment from the antics of their kids, I was totally encouraged to sing, throw my pretend hat and spin around until I fell. There was laughter, there was clapping and most importantly there were some good times! And that’s what Michael’s music conjurers up for me, good times at the party, good times at the cookout, good times dancing in the car at a red light while a cop looks over, smiles and shakes his head (that was just Friday night).
Mike’s music was great but his life definitely had its ups and downs. As I listened to the media folks a lot of outlets in mainstream America could not resist bringing up old shyt- the child molestation case, his changing appearance, the fact that he may or may not be broke. Meanwhile, back in the Black community there was nothing but love. Sure, during Mike’s life we all cracked jokes, talked about how weird he was, wondered how unhuman he was going to make himself look after it was all said and done. But in my community, in death there was nothing but respect for a man who gave us good times. Even my pastor was moonwalking in the pulpit on Sunday…of course he tied it all together with Jesus and our salvation…but still, some Amens were shouted and everyone got up on their feet.
One of the things that I have been thinking about for the past few days was Mike’s reputation. While we all loved Michael Jackson the entertainer, we knew something wasn’t quite right with the man. It’s interesting to me that even in his death the downs he experienced in his life are eclipsing his philanthropy, the conscious messages in his music or even his humanitarian work. There is an Asian (can’t recall if its Chinese or Japanese) saying that addresses speaking badly about people. In the beginning, it’s like Michael Jackson was a whole piece of paper. And over years pieces of him were torn up and scattered around by lawsuits, leeches, loneliness and low self esteem. And as the saying goes, no matter how long you search for these torn scattered little pieces you cannot put the paper back whole again. Why? Because some pieces are taken by others or destroyed in their environment. Some pieces you just can’t recover…no matter how hard you try. And I think that maybe in the end Mike was just tired of trying to get back the pieces that were lost. But me no know, I’m a 20 something in DC who only knew Michael Jackson through his music. But I hope that he has peace and is finally whole now.
See You In Seven
I first learned about Michael in front of a giant floor model television (you know the ones that took most of the living room and held everything from family pictures, to a newer television on top) at my grandparents’ house. My cousin, who is a couple months older loved her some Thriller, for me, it was all about Billy Jean. Before knowing anything about paternity tests or baby momma dramas, I knew I loved walking on the title floor squares-wishing they would light up. And because adult folks love getting free entertainment from the antics of their kids, I was totally encouraged to sing, throw my pretend hat and spin around until I fell. There was laughter, there was clapping and most importantly there were some good times! And that’s what Michael’s music conjurers up for me, good times at the party, good times at the cookout, good times dancing in the car at a red light while a cop looks over, smiles and shakes his head (that was just Friday night).
Mike’s music was great but his life definitely had its ups and downs. As I listened to the media folks a lot of outlets in mainstream America could not resist bringing up old shyt- the child molestation case, his changing appearance, the fact that he may or may not be broke. Meanwhile, back in the Black community there was nothing but love. Sure, during Mike’s life we all cracked jokes, talked about how weird he was, wondered how unhuman he was going to make himself look after it was all said and done. But in my community, in death there was nothing but respect for a man who gave us good times. Even my pastor was moonwalking in the pulpit on Sunday…of course he tied it all together with Jesus and our salvation…but still, some Amens were shouted and everyone got up on their feet.
One of the things that I have been thinking about for the past few days was Mike’s reputation. While we all loved Michael Jackson the entertainer, we knew something wasn’t quite right with the man. It’s interesting to me that even in his death the downs he experienced in his life are eclipsing his philanthropy, the conscious messages in his music or even his humanitarian work. There is an Asian (can’t recall if its Chinese or Japanese) saying that addresses speaking badly about people. In the beginning, it’s like Michael Jackson was a whole piece of paper. And over years pieces of him were torn up and scattered around by lawsuits, leeches, loneliness and low self esteem. And as the saying goes, no matter how long you search for these torn scattered little pieces you cannot put the paper back whole again. Why? Because some pieces are taken by others or destroyed in their environment. Some pieces you just can’t recover…no matter how hard you try. And I think that maybe in the end Mike was just tired of trying to get back the pieces that were lost. But me no know, I’m a 20 something in DC who only knew Michael Jackson through his music. But I hope that he has peace and is finally whole now.
See You In Seven
Monday, June 29, 2009
I <3 MJ
A couple of weeks ago, I started writing letters to my friends titled “When We First Met…” The purpose of these letters is to document the moment that I realized their existence. After loosing one of THE GREATEST Entertainer of our times, I thought it was only fitting that this morning I share my letter to Michael Jackson. Here goes…
Dear Michael,
When I first realized you existed was the day my parents got satellite TV. I was hiding on the side of the refrigerator, peeking around the corner to see the TV and there you were dancing in the subway station. I was 6 and in love!!! I don’t know if you remember but this video, it was like 15 minutes long. Who’s bad Wisley? (chuckle) “You doing wrong!!”
From that day Mikey, I was so curious about you. I started going through my parents’ record collection to find this classic. This one might have been a couple years before my time but this is MY FAVORITE MJ album! “I can’t help it even if I wanted to… I wouldn’t help it if I could.” NO question. I have no problem taking this to an abandoned island. I begged my dad to play this over and over. I was singing live you life off the wall before I even knew what that meant… “Life is short, live it off the wall!!”
Dad said, we have that other song you like too baby girl. That was the Thriller record. I was like “WOW! This man is AWESOME!” Every song is GREAT! And you are the cutest man I have ever seen in a white suit. (chuckle)
At the time I wasn’t a fan of P.Y.T, Beat It was my jam and I still hadn’t seen Thriller yet. But I remember when I did. I was by my best friend’s, her grandmother was napping and she said let’s watch this tape my brother left. It was Thriller! I covered my eyes for the majority of the video. We played it like 4 times. Dang that was a good and scary at the same time! But back to P.Y.T… this one has a special place in my heart because it was the song that my uncle danced with me at my cousin’s birthday party. I still remember that because my cousin was older than me and I was the youngest one there, no one to play with. I will never forget you Michael.
For the prep rally in 96, I revived Beat It, choreographed a dance and all for the school the day before the track meet.
Don’t Stop ‘til You Get Enough and Rock with You, had me convinced I meant to be a 70s baby. In fact, my default dance move is an adaptation of the moves in these videos to this day. I still rock like you! (chuckle) I have cried to that note, Roooooooccck with you… Mike
I spent countless lunch breaks trying to perfect the patented anti-gravity lean from Smooth Criminal’s music video.
I spent countless lunch breaks trying to perfect the patented anti-gravity lean from Smooth Criminal’s music video. Shook my body down to the ground. :)Then the summer before high school I choreographed, what I called at the time, a spiritual dance to Keep the Faith. You couldn’t tell me Remember the time was not the ish!!! Used Dangerous for countless rounds of name that tone on the telephone. (chuckle) Oh man Michael, my first boyfriend sang me “You Are Not Alone”! That was truly an amazing collaboration with R. Kelly.
Urgh! I could go on forever with memories of each and every one of your songs. But there is one thing that is true… I will never ever forget the effect you had on my life. The effect your music will have on my children’s life. I don’t have to defend your music MJ! I don’t need to blame it on the alcohol but I will blame it on the boogie. (chuckle)
But don't worry, I remembered what you said... we can change the world!
No one delivers a message like you Mike! I am almost stop being a girlfriend when she tried to say you weren't all that. Are you serious? People who are not feeling this lost, have not taken a moment to listen to his music again. All I have to say is "Can you feel it?"
Much luv until next week... peace :)
P.S. Hope you got my message I left you at Apollo. I couldn't ask for a better place to be stranded without an umbrella than with a group of your fans sining at the top of our lungs while a little boy danced your moves to all of your tunes. I know you will live forever.
Friday, June 26, 2009
Love Training
I will be in New Orleans in less than one week celebrating another Fourth of July with the one and only, Ms. Mint Julep. We have spent the past two Fourth holidays together and they have been quite interesting to say the least. Both years I have gone out of town with plans to just chill and have a good time for the night/weekend. And yet on both occasions, I have met what I thought at the time was a great catch of man, so numbers were exchanged, and a long distance dance/courtship/what the fcuk have I gotten myself into began.
First came the tingly feelings. The fun and thrill of getting to know a new person. The walking on sunshine. The like, the lust and I wonder if this could one day be love thoughts. But then came the drama. Right on time and all the way live! The miscommunication. Or lack thereof. The muhfcuka is you crazy? The this can’t be life moments. No really, this can’t be my life.
Heart was splintered. Tears were shed. Cussing was done. Fcuk that nygga was the refrain from friends and my mama. Teedra Moses songs stayed on repeat. Prayers were uttered. Sadness settled in and tried to make a home. And I started thinking that me and “celebrating” this thing called Independence Day were cursed. Got me vowing that next week, I will tell any man I meet in New Orleans that, naw I don’t have a phone. No email either. Nope, no facebook page. And a sista lives on Mars, so rent you a spaceship if you tryna come see me.
But seriously, as this July Fourth approaches, bursting with possibilities, I find myself looking back at how what were supposed to be simple out of town jaunts to have a little fun turned into more than I could have ever imagined. Thinking how I then put my expectations on the totally unexpected. And then witnessed in awe what did and did not come into fruition. Remarking on how so much can happen in just one year. Let alone two. How things can grow. Then shift. Mutate. Change completely. Become unrecognizable. End. How you can think you’ve got it all figured out, only to make the same mistakes. And then wonder if you are becoming the definition of insanity.
While rehashing the most recent dissolved relationship with a friend, I sighed, “Well I guess you live and you learn. And she responded, “And then you get luvs.” “Perfection,” I said. Cause even though it’s from a diapers commercial, these experiences have me feeling like I’ve been wearing “love” pull ups. Seems that I wasn’t quite ready for the real thing. Had to go through some shyt, just to be changed.
Having to wear these training pants before getting the big girl panties has me sorting out in a practical, grown up way, what I want and need from a relationship. What I deserve. Truly (and finally) understanding that communication is key. That being true to one’s feelings is crucial. That compromise is a four letter word. That this grown up, real life shyt is no joke. That every event is preceded by a sign. We’re all clairvoyant if we'd only know it. © Toni Cade Bambara That if a man want you, he will choose you and if he ain’t really chose you yet, then you ain’t the one. That you can pontificate all you want on what you would do if this or that happened, but when placed in said situation, you may in fact let your own self down. That you think you know, but you have no idea.
And so whilst at the time, it felt like I was really going through it, that my heart was shattered beyond repair, me thinks (and have decided) these luv pullups were actually padding for when I fell, to ensure that I wouldn’t be bruised for life. Wouldn’t hold grudges. Wouldn’t fight people in the streets. They have served as protection from leaks of cynicism and jadedness. Kept me dry. Sane. And most importantly still hopeful. Hopeful that there is someone out there just for me. And that all of these experiences, no matter how bad they were, no matter how much it hurt, in the end have a purpose - to mold me into a woman who will know better. Do better. Live better. Expect better. And get better. Got me now believing that you live and you learn. And then you get love. Real love.
That’s my time y’all! Happy Rum Punch Friday!
Epilogue - Everyone has their own memories of HIM. The King of Pop. Mine are: my cousin babysitting us and playing the Thriller record (RECORD!!!) and her making me sing Paul McCartney's part from the Girl is Mine over and over and over again. Playing the Motown Christmas record (RECORD!!!) as a child, beginning right after Thanksgiving and loving every Jackson 5 song. Loving that lean in the Smooth Criminal video. Amaretto putting in the Thriller CD (CD!!) when nothing was on the radio and letting that joint ride! Riding the train to work with Baby be Mine on repeat. And grooving to my all time favorite MJ song that always brightens my mood, makes me smile and then wanna get up and dance. Rest in peace Michael Jackson. You were a soundtrack to my childhood. Loved by people of all generations, races, and cultures. The best who ever did it. You will be missed.
First came the tingly feelings. The fun and thrill of getting to know a new person. The walking on sunshine. The like, the lust and I wonder if this could one day be love thoughts. But then came the drama. Right on time and all the way live! The miscommunication. Or lack thereof. The muhfcuka is you crazy? The this can’t be life moments. No really, this can’t be my life.
Heart was splintered. Tears were shed. Cussing was done. Fcuk that nygga was the refrain from friends and my mama. Teedra Moses songs stayed on repeat. Prayers were uttered. Sadness settled in and tried to make a home. And I started thinking that me and “celebrating” this thing called Independence Day were cursed. Got me vowing that next week, I will tell any man I meet in New Orleans that, naw I don’t have a phone. No email either. Nope, no facebook page. And a sista lives on Mars, so rent you a spaceship if you tryna come see me.
But seriously, as this July Fourth approaches, bursting with possibilities, I find myself looking back at how what were supposed to be simple out of town jaunts to have a little fun turned into more than I could have ever imagined. Thinking how I then put my expectations on the totally unexpected. And then witnessed in awe what did and did not come into fruition. Remarking on how so much can happen in just one year. Let alone two. How things can grow. Then shift. Mutate. Change completely. Become unrecognizable. End. How you can think you’ve got it all figured out, only to make the same mistakes. And then wonder if you are becoming the definition of insanity.
While rehashing the most recent dissolved relationship with a friend, I sighed, “Well I guess you live and you learn. And she responded, “And then you get luvs.” “Perfection,” I said. Cause even though it’s from a diapers commercial, these experiences have me feeling like I’ve been wearing “love” pull ups. Seems that I wasn’t quite ready for the real thing. Had to go through some shyt, just to be changed.
Having to wear these training pants before getting the big girl panties has me sorting out in a practical, grown up way, what I want and need from a relationship. What I deserve. Truly (and finally) understanding that communication is key. That being true to one’s feelings is crucial. That compromise is a four letter word. That this grown up, real life shyt is no joke. That every event is preceded by a sign. We’re all clairvoyant if we'd only know it. © Toni Cade Bambara That if a man want you, he will choose you and if he ain’t really chose you yet, then you ain’t the one. That you can pontificate all you want on what you would do if this or that happened, but when placed in said situation, you may in fact let your own self down. That you think you know, but you have no idea.
And so whilst at the time, it felt like I was really going through it, that my heart was shattered beyond repair, me thinks (and have decided) these luv pullups were actually padding for when I fell, to ensure that I wouldn’t be bruised for life. Wouldn’t hold grudges. Wouldn’t fight people in the streets. They have served as protection from leaks of cynicism and jadedness. Kept me dry. Sane. And most importantly still hopeful. Hopeful that there is someone out there just for me. And that all of these experiences, no matter how bad they were, no matter how much it hurt, in the end have a purpose - to mold me into a woman who will know better. Do better. Live better. Expect better. And get better. Got me now believing that you live and you learn. And then you get love. Real love.
That’s my time y’all! Happy Rum Punch Friday!
Epilogue - Everyone has their own memories of HIM. The King of Pop. Mine are: my cousin babysitting us and playing the Thriller record (RECORD!!!) and her making me sing Paul McCartney's part from the Girl is Mine over and over and over again. Playing the Motown Christmas record (RECORD!!!) as a child, beginning right after Thanksgiving and loving every Jackson 5 song. Loving that lean in the Smooth Criminal video. Amaretto putting in the Thriller CD (CD!!) when nothing was on the radio and letting that joint ride! Riding the train to work with Baby be Mine on repeat. And grooving to my all time favorite MJ song that always brightens my mood, makes me smile and then wanna get up and dance. Rest in peace Michael Jackson. You were a soundtrack to my childhood. Loved by people of all generations, races, and cultures. The best who ever did it. You will be missed.
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