(posted on Sumbul ont he fateful day)
Michael Jackson.. dead. I don’t know what to think. I’m in a very blank place and just want to write for him. He and I had a common important year in our lives. 1982. When I was born in July that year he was working on what moved on to be the biggest studio album of all times “Thriller” which sold phenomenally and stands as a benchmark of sales to this day.
In a time when music was synonymous with Michael Jackson. If not all of it, perhaps just 75% of the music you would hear would be him. He was the King of pop. He was iconic. I just feel awful using past tense for him in itself. We grew up listening to him. All the way through Billie Jean and his moonwalk, Beat it, Thriller, History, even his advertisement jingles. He was a musical statement in his own self
As much as he entertained the world, his own life was no short of a tragedy since the word go. The simple lack of childhood altogether growing into the trials on child sex abuse and what not, he was jarred by sorrow and mishaps.
We didn’t treat him right. The world threw him around. The contemporary media was very cruel to someone who contributed so much to the world of entertainment where we can easily attribute an entire era of music to be simply Michael Jackson. We didn’t give him back the smiles he gave us. We did not pay him back for the moments of joy he gave all of us with his music. On the contrary his life was a constant struggle. We judged and we kicked and we judged again and we kept dissecting his life.
For once in my life, I’m having trouble writing because I keep going blank with shock, numbness and extreme sorrow. Today, music died. A good man is with us no more and I don’t have anything else to say except his own song where little did we know, his life will go on to abide by…
They're Out To Get You, Better Leave While You Can
Don't Wanna Be A Boy, You Wanna Be A Man
You Wanna Stay Alive, Better Do What You Can
So Beat It, Just Beat It
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