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bad fanfiction
- Thread starter mariah
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mariah
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The whole set was awake. It was day five of the making of BAD. Cameras were going back and forth, zooming in and out and were constantly flashing in everyone's faces. Microphones buzzed and echoed. Phones rang and vibrated on their receivers. Dancers and extras glimmered, and glittered, clacked and clicked, tin and twinkling from the soles of their feet to the crown of their hair. Hips, waists, sleeves and pant legs were insinuated by metal and jeweled. For almost seventy-five minutes choreographers had been drilling Michael and his party over the steps in the short dance routine. Spins and turns, shuffles and dips were done over and over and over again, until EVERYONE got it punctual, perfect and proper, noon was on the horizon and still there were hundreds of more details and effort that needed to be completed before we could all get a good night's sleep.
It was my fifth time, being called on the set to monitor Michael's make up. He usually insisted on doing it himself before rehearsal or in between breaks but apparently, the director and staff wanted him to experience royal treatment, which I didn't get paid enough around the clock to service.
MICHAEL: "Let's take it from the top again. On three we shuffle to the left and turn our heads forward, then left on the beat, all together then we take 15"
ROWAN: I'd take 15 too if I was him too, to cry in a corner! His entourage looked a little crappy. From the intensive movement he was doing, I could tell that I was going to have to retouch his makeup momentarily. Movement and activity were all he had been doing since we arrived on the BAD set earlier this morning. The level of energy and animation he had today was unrivaled by all his back up dancers and from my spot on the sidelines, I could tell that despite the sweat and heavy breathing that Jackson exhibited he was undoubtedly in his zone like any perfectionist crafting his next spectacle to share with the world. He and his crew were in the middle of the dance number in BAD and were having trouble coordinating the side shuffling. Someone in the back was always off but Michael seemed unfazed, wanting to home in on the number. The track started up again but I'm not sure if anyone had heard him over the clicks and clamber of his medal bedazzled waist, because there was a fourth discombobulated frump to the left.
DIRECTOR: "Cut! You-"
He roughly pointed at Atticus (DANCER)
"What is this?!"
He reenacted the frumpy, funky side skips Atticus had been doing.
"I'm up to here with this nonsense! Get it right or get out! Michael has a schedule; this isn't a free for all. TAKE IT FROM THE TOP"
It was my fifth time, being called on the set to monitor Michael's make up. He usually insisted on doing it himself before rehearsal or in between breaks but apparently, the director and staff wanted him to experience royal treatment, which I didn't get paid enough around the clock to service.
MICHAEL: "Let's take it from the top again. On three we shuffle to the left and turn our heads forward, then left on the beat, all together then we take 15"
ROWAN: I'd take 15 too if I was him too, to cry in a corner! His entourage looked a little crappy. From the intensive movement he was doing, I could tell that I was going to have to retouch his makeup momentarily. Movement and activity were all he had been doing since we arrived on the BAD set earlier this morning. The level of energy and animation he had today was unrivaled by all his back up dancers and from my spot on the sidelines, I could tell that despite the sweat and heavy breathing that Jackson exhibited he was undoubtedly in his zone like any perfectionist crafting his next spectacle to share with the world. He and his crew were in the middle of the dance number in BAD and were having trouble coordinating the side shuffling. Someone in the back was always off but Michael seemed unfazed, wanting to home in on the number. The track started up again but I'm not sure if anyone had heard him over the clicks and clamber of his medal bedazzled waist, because there was a fourth discombobulated frump to the left.
DIRECTOR: "Cut! You-"
He roughly pointed at Atticus (DANCER)
"What is this?!"
He reenacted the frumpy, funky side skips Atticus had been doing.
"I'm up to here with this nonsense! Get it right or get out! Michael has a schedule; this isn't a free for all. TAKE IT FROM THE TOP"
Last edited:
mariah
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ROWAN: A look of pain flashed across Michael's face as Atticus quickly stepped aside and with lowered, solemn eyes stared at the concrete pavement as the dancers smoothly - this time - completed the move with such clean precision and timing that no re-dos were needed. A look of satisfaction smiled from DIRECTOR'S countenance.
DIRECTOR: "Take 15!"
ROWAN: With the cue, I got up from my perch on a folding chair and scrambled into the sea of stretching, chattering dancers to take Michael aside to touch him up. I knew that the lighting made him look a little paler then naturally he did, so I wanted to add a little more color onto his cheeks. Before I could get a grasp of his jeweled arm, he turned aside to the mumble-grumbling director, with his soft lips formed into a straight line.
MICHAEL: "I want him in the shot, he adds spunk and his own creative liberty to the scene. Perfection wasn't a prerequisite-"
DIRECTOR: "Michael, Michael, take a breather will you, look I understand you got to help the underdog and what not, but we got a schedule and limited tape, so we don't have time for a civil rights movement, it's a business Michael, you know it, go big or go home sort of deal."
ROWAN: Director, clapped Michael on a back, as if he had been a spoiled prince. Michael was still fairly new to his solo career and his backbone was still developing. I'm not saying that he was mute and passive, but he tried to stay out of butting heads with directors and managers because like the mafia, they were the big bosses in his industry and career development and with a motion of their fingers could send him hurling to his knees begging for forgiveness. They could drop you and demolish you faster than acid. Director walked away to converse with the stage managers and choreographers.
The fire was in Michael's eyes, and he knew his words had been very clear but instead of listening, the Director had basically told Michael's kind heart to beat it, so he did. He started over to me, with a look of disappointment glowing on his face.
MICHAEL: "I think today will be a wrap. Editing is always the longest part of the process."
ROWAN: Michael spouted in his empathetic, charismatic voice, which couldn't help but enchant me as a (I KNOW NOTHING ABOUT MAKE UP IRL) dabbed concealer? to his forehead. He was a snake charmer in my no-nonsense, clear eyes. His voice was like a lover's ballad, melodic and
solemn like whispers of love in the morning, like a new love dawning which made up for his externally plain, average make up. I didn't know any person who wasn't automatically memorized by his choice, tender lips...
He went on and on about the energy of his dancers and the set and this and that. He was always bubbling with appreciation for his partners and co-workers. Then in the middle of his sentence about how he wished that the storyline had included a flashback to Darrell prior to attending the boarding school just to show the contrast between his insensitivity to street violence and his now heightened guilt toward crimes towards a brother, he blurted out,
"I can't stomach what Director did. He was totally insensitive to my dancer and I'm sure that, his remark made Atticus feel as if he was inferior to us, which he isn't, we all have room for improvement, but you can't improve without failing."
His statement reminded me of the pep talks he [Michael] regularly had with himself before rehearsals or recordings - I had made a habit of snooping on him before rehearsal... a casual, non-suspecting stroll by his dressing room, had turned into an intense, analyzing of his every move and breath, under the noses of his security and A-team that is. I had my key card and quick fired lies, that had become my crutch as my fasinaction with the concept of Michael developed. He always and consistently reminded himself of his potential, dreams and worth. He reminded himself to not put himself in a box but go outside of it and let his soul lead him. And the inspiration he gained from those moments of speaking life into himself, was obvious his energy and creativity could not be contained. This entire Bad scheme or project, should I say, is a mirror of his industry for his art.
ROWAN: "I'm sure, he sounded a little snooty, but he meant well. A certain level of perfection is needed to be part of the soul of a future national and international successes like this"
I replied cooly, taking a blender sponge and smartly going over the peaks of his cheek bones. A faint blush colored over Michael's cheeks. He was so modest and reserved, fame, fortune, popularity, fan-mania were of little value to him as physics. Those prospects were in the back of his heart, those weren't the heart and soul behind what he did.
"Rowan, that was me at some point. My father looked me in the eyes more times than I can count and told me. 'Michael you're not going to amount to anything if you kept dancing or singing like this or that" He'd look me dead in my eyes and say that and nitpick at me and it'd break my heart. I wouldn't ever say that to anyone else. I wouldn't ever dream of those words coming out my mouth because words hurt, nasty words crush the spirit. I used Joe's words to fuel my dream to be the best of the best, a creator of wonder and thrill and escapism, but some will take those words and use them to kill the person they dreamed of becoming. People who say those sorts of things don't have souls."
ROWAN: I wouldn't say his tone was exactly friendly, it had a little sour bite to it, which made me smirk at him, but I kept my mouth shut, no need to go back and forth with a radical. It severely irked me and made my blood boil, that Jackson, perceived BAD, as "an art movement", "an album of self-expression and a gift of magic and wonder" and "a changing tide in the music industry". How backwards that was, especially coming from the artist of Thriller! Jackon's fatal flaw, is that he's underdeveloped, he's ignorantly stuck in a time capucsle , in which he's indoctrinating himself to think that his artistry is for others, its primarily for the good of humanity, it's an expression of giving back and charity...he doesn't have the common sense of a full blooded entrepenuer. The point of artistry is to capitalize off of hungry fans and dimwitted teenagers. It's a game of monoploy with a simple objective - get rich by any means neccessary. I'm not justifying exploiting gulliable, mindless buyers but...at some point money needs to be the approach.
DIRECTOR: "Take 15!"
ROWAN: With the cue, I got up from my perch on a folding chair and scrambled into the sea of stretching, chattering dancers to take Michael aside to touch him up. I knew that the lighting made him look a little paler then naturally he did, so I wanted to add a little more color onto his cheeks. Before I could get a grasp of his jeweled arm, he turned aside to the mumble-grumbling director, with his soft lips formed into a straight line.
MICHAEL: "I want him in the shot, he adds spunk and his own creative liberty to the scene. Perfection wasn't a prerequisite-"
DIRECTOR: "Michael, Michael, take a breather will you, look I understand you got to help the underdog and what not, but we got a schedule and limited tape, so we don't have time for a civil rights movement, it's a business Michael, you know it, go big or go home sort of deal."
ROWAN: Director, clapped Michael on a back, as if he had been a spoiled prince. Michael was still fairly new to his solo career and his backbone was still developing. I'm not saying that he was mute and passive, but he tried to stay out of butting heads with directors and managers because like the mafia, they were the big bosses in his industry and career development and with a motion of their fingers could send him hurling to his knees begging for forgiveness. They could drop you and demolish you faster than acid. Director walked away to converse with the stage managers and choreographers.
The fire was in Michael's eyes, and he knew his words had been very clear but instead of listening, the Director had basically told Michael's kind heart to beat it, so he did. He started over to me, with a look of disappointment glowing on his face.
MICHAEL: "I think today will be a wrap. Editing is always the longest part of the process."
ROWAN: Michael spouted in his empathetic, charismatic voice, which couldn't help but enchant me as a (I KNOW NOTHING ABOUT MAKE UP IRL) dabbed concealer? to his forehead. He was a snake charmer in my no-nonsense, clear eyes. His voice was like a lover's ballad, melodic and
solemn like whispers of love in the morning, like a new love dawning which made up for his externally plain, average make up. I didn't know any person who wasn't automatically memorized by his choice, tender lips...
He went on and on about the energy of his dancers and the set and this and that. He was always bubbling with appreciation for his partners and co-workers. Then in the middle of his sentence about how he wished that the storyline had included a flashback to Darrell prior to attending the boarding school just to show the contrast between his insensitivity to street violence and his now heightened guilt toward crimes towards a brother, he blurted out,
"I can't stomach what Director did. He was totally insensitive to my dancer and I'm sure that, his remark made Atticus feel as if he was inferior to us, which he isn't, we all have room for improvement, but you can't improve without failing."
His statement reminded me of the pep talks he [Michael] regularly had with himself before rehearsals or recordings - I had made a habit of snooping on him before rehearsal... a casual, non-suspecting stroll by his dressing room, had turned into an intense, analyzing of his every move and breath, under the noses of his security and A-team that is. I had my key card and quick fired lies, that had become my crutch as my fasinaction with the concept of Michael developed. He always and consistently reminded himself of his potential, dreams and worth. He reminded himself to not put himself in a box but go outside of it and let his soul lead him. And the inspiration he gained from those moments of speaking life into himself, was obvious his energy and creativity could not be contained. This entire Bad scheme or project, should I say, is a mirror of his industry for his art.
ROWAN: "I'm sure, he sounded a little snooty, but he meant well. A certain level of perfection is needed to be part of the soul of a future national and international successes like this"
I replied cooly, taking a blender sponge and smartly going over the peaks of his cheek bones. A faint blush colored over Michael's cheeks. He was so modest and reserved, fame, fortune, popularity, fan-mania were of little value to him as physics. Those prospects were in the back of his heart, those weren't the heart and soul behind what he did.
"Rowan, that was me at some point. My father looked me in the eyes more times than I can count and told me. 'Michael you're not going to amount to anything if you kept dancing or singing like this or that" He'd look me dead in my eyes and say that and nitpick at me and it'd break my heart. I wouldn't ever say that to anyone else. I wouldn't ever dream of those words coming out my mouth because words hurt, nasty words crush the spirit. I used Joe's words to fuel my dream to be the best of the best, a creator of wonder and thrill and escapism, but some will take those words and use them to kill the person they dreamed of becoming. People who say those sorts of things don't have souls."
ROWAN: I wouldn't say his tone was exactly friendly, it had a little sour bite to it, which made me smirk at him, but I kept my mouth shut, no need to go back and forth with a radical. It severely irked me and made my blood boil, that Jackson, perceived BAD, as "an art movement", "an album of self-expression and a gift of magic and wonder" and "a changing tide in the music industry". How backwards that was, especially coming from the artist of Thriller! Jackon's fatal flaw, is that he's underdeveloped, he's ignorantly stuck in a time capucsle , in which he's indoctrinating himself to think that his artistry is for others, its primarily for the good of humanity, it's an expression of giving back and charity...he doesn't have the common sense of a full blooded entrepenuer. The point of artistry is to capitalize off of hungry fans and dimwitted teenagers. It's a game of monoploy with a simple objective - get rich by any means neccessary. I'm not justifying exploiting gulliable, mindless buyers but...at some point money needs to be the approach.
Last edited:
mariah
Proud Member
- Joined
- Apr 25, 2024
- Messages
- 62
- Points
- 8
MR ROD: After I wrote the hits for Thriller and Off the Wall, you ignored me on Bad. I mean, what am I even looking for here?
ROWAN: Michael spun around - not literally - faster than you could say go, and because we were both startled, I had no moment to process the words he had said to me. The voice sounded familiar, and it wasn't until I looked up at, I realized who it was. [Michael and I had moved over from the on-break dance crew to a more secluded area still in the parking garage but where the lighting, film and production crew and their folding chairs and heavy, boxy audio and sound, and camera equipment was set up].
MICHAEL: "ROD?" He looked fresh and warm like always, cleanly shaved, and fitted in a collared shirt and cotton pull over. His smile lines were prominent and bold, as like a boa-constrictor, he squeezed his leathery hands over my knobby knuckles in a firm handshake.
ROD: "I wasn't invited back I see" he chuckled in a low voice. His eyes begging the question, for why I [myself and production crew] hadn't given him a call back since our initial brainstorming for BAD at the studio. I realized all this time I had ignored him, that wasn't my intention at all. I love working with him and sharing in his creative energies...however, with this new era dawning, I prefer to independently take on the privilege of crafting my own lyrics. BAD is supposed to contain electric, punk, fresh and mystical energy and Rod's perspective isn't needed as much anymore.
"Quincey and I, read over Groove of Midnight, Rod, and I thank you from the bottom of my heart for the lyrics, but I want this album to be the canvas I make, not yours."
Looking into the face of the man, who had put blood, sweat and tears into Thriller, he gave it a name, I just gave it a mouth and soul, I felt as if I had slapped him, the look of sheer disappointment, that I could not fully understand, that colored his face, made my heart drop to the bottom of my stomach. Rod never stopped until he felt confident that the music, we worked on was able to stand on its own and now putting him into the backseat of our partnership felt immoral. Rod slowly took his hand from our warm handshake and put it back into his pant pocket. He looked numbly at me....
ROWAN: Michael spun around - not literally - faster than you could say go, and because we were both startled, I had no moment to process the words he had said to me. The voice sounded familiar, and it wasn't until I looked up at, I realized who it was. [Michael and I had moved over from the on-break dance crew to a more secluded area still in the parking garage but where the lighting, film and production crew and their folding chairs and heavy, boxy audio and sound, and camera equipment was set up].
MICHAEL: "ROD?" He looked fresh and warm like always, cleanly shaved, and fitted in a collared shirt and cotton pull over. His smile lines were prominent and bold, as like a boa-constrictor, he squeezed his leathery hands over my knobby knuckles in a firm handshake.
ROD: "I wasn't invited back I see" he chuckled in a low voice. His eyes begging the question, for why I [myself and production crew] hadn't given him a call back since our initial brainstorming for BAD at the studio. I realized all this time I had ignored him, that wasn't my intention at all. I love working with him and sharing in his creative energies...however, with this new era dawning, I prefer to independently take on the privilege of crafting my own lyrics. BAD is supposed to contain electric, punk, fresh and mystical energy and Rod's perspective isn't needed as much anymore.
"Quincey and I, read over Groove of Midnight, Rod, and I thank you from the bottom of my heart for the lyrics, but I want this album to be the canvas I make, not yours."
Looking into the face of the man, who had put blood, sweat and tears into Thriller, he gave it a name, I just gave it a mouth and soul, I felt as if I had slapped him, the look of sheer disappointment, that I could not fully understand, that colored his face, made my heart drop to the bottom of my stomach. Rod never stopped until he felt confident that the music, we worked on was able to stand on its own and now putting him into the backseat of our partnership felt immoral. Rod slowly took his hand from our warm handshake and put it back into his pant pocket. He looked numbly at me....
mariah
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- Joined
- Apr 25, 2024
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ROWAN: I felt as if I was none of my business to be a third party in the exchange anymore, so I discreetly backed away, after giving a smug but cheery smile to Rod. If I can be upfront with you all, it was obvious that there was a bit of tension and enmity within Michael's inner circle. In some respects, producers, sound engineers, stage and film management personal, choreographers, custome designers, vocal critics/instructors and directors were all indirectly competing for a spot-on Michael's A-team. There weren't fist fights, or heated verbal exchanges but there was the common knowledge that some of us were more functional, needed, proficient, and expert then others, and would have an almost guaranteed chance at working alongside Michael for the remainder of his solo career, others weren't simply cut out to work for a bigger-then-Hollywood-itself-star. I think Rod was feeling the butt end of being kindly replaced by Quincey who was putting pressure on Michael to compose his own music, which I'm sure he wanted to do. I don't think too positively of Quincey, it feels if his hands are everywhere, over everything and anything but Michael needs a grounded critic to expand his horizons, so if its Quincey its Quincey. Quincey has a good ear and is a visionary, but I sense that at some point he'll rub Michael the wrong way like Joseph did -trying to contain light is almost impossible.
I looked around the garage, there were so many new faces - something I appreciate about Michael and his crew, sameness and familiarity are like Jello and pudding to them, they only offer so much difference texture, flavor, experience and taste. Michael sees the potential and art in always changing, experimenting and trying new perspectives.
From the angle I have, overseeing, the dancers float around the space, chitter chatting, and mingling with each other, it feels as if I'm watching a family reunion; everyone knows each other and at the same time no one does, new and novel is being passed around from ear to ear, and yet everyone is familiar with each other.
Right then, my stomach growled, and I made my way towards the snack bar in between of the pillars in the train station. I had eaten breakfast around 445am or 515am, I was in a hurry out the door to catch the bus to get on site before 800am. Thank God I made, it because I spent thirty minutes looking for my bus ticket, that was stapled onto my pant leg before some reason...I fingered a banana. I had recently weaned myself off of my year- long keto diet - I had a couple pounds from my last breakup to lose - and now every food was on the menu. but then turned my eyes to the basket of chocolate which I couldn't resist, which was such an opportune move, because I ran right into my arch nemesis, Jennifer!
DIRECTOR: "Can I have a word with you and Myla please?"
Director took advantage of our little run-in, appearing out of the parted sea, her firmly put a hand on our finely chiseled shoulders to keep us from scad-dadling away like hermit crabs.
ROWAN: I hadn't noticed Myla had been here the entire time, there wasn't much need for a guitarist for this song, but Michael had been hinting at a project to follow up BAD, and apparently, He was going to need a guitarist or two to bring it to life. He was in between, "**It Doesn't Matter", "**We're All the Same" or "Black or White" for the name of it- I personally liked the first title it felt more ambiguous and profound and less elementary like, "Black or White". I mean come on! "Black or White" is like, "The Wheels on the Bus" obviously the nursey rhyme is about wheels on a bus. I feel as if, "Black or White" gives away the gist of the song which from the sound of the title is probably about equality and love.
The one quality about Michael, that I don't appreciate is his need to dumb down and sugarcoat everything. For instance, he includes little if any profanity in his lyrics which I feel, in my mind at least, doesn't distinguish him much from his Jacksons goody-two-shoes image. This BAD album that he's cutting is a lousy attempt at transitioning from his mommy-hold-my-hand-image to i'm-a-baddie-and-i'll-steal-your-girl persona. Saying I'm bad, over and over again, doesn't have much of that macho effect as he thinks it does.
If he's as into his solo career and producing a remarkable, all-inspiring and sensational name for himself then he needs, to rip off the band-aid of "family-friendly", "sensible and suitable" and go all out! I think he's absolutely pathetic in regard to watering down racism. Just say it how it is Michael, never will there be a day on this planet, when everyone holds hands and sings Kumbaya, and kisses each other without someone trying to eliminate someone. We're not all going to be equal ever, stop trying to create a fantasy.
DIRECTOR: "Look, this is a business. We're here, we're all here, to get in and get out, make money, maybe a little name for ourselves, a decent apartment in Hollywood and that's it. I've been overhearing from the boys [He's referring to Rod and **Avion], about a little feud going on between you two and I'm just here to say, whatever is going on needs to dial down, the last thing I need before this album breaks the charts, is a little birdie in my ears yapping on and on about how you two can't get along. Go on a play date or something, you two are animals, work it out."
ROWAN: He kept going on and on, and somehow made the whole pep talk about himself and how mentally insane he felt under all the pressure of editing and dealing with the bum-fumbling, backyard-talent-show-level dancers and a lily-livered Michael. He always made everything about himself, although I'm almost confident, that Michael out of all of us, was suffocating under outfit changes and adjustments, crew members quitting or demanding higher pay, video camera breaking, and film being lost. Director couldn't even touch his toes or clap his hands if his life depended on it. Jennifer's face looked cold as stone, as he gripped both of our arms and made us face each other.
I couldn't stand Myla.
Close your eyes for a minute and imagine that one obnoxious teacher's pet but then her all grown up and heads over heels in love with Michael Jackson, and it's not one sided. Michael and her, are like two peas in a pod, which makes my blood boil. He always bounces every and anything off her, "Myla, what do you think", "What's you're feeling on this?". Get a room already!!! Even down to the stupid metal buckles of his sleeves, IT ALL REVLOVES AROUND HER. Her out of all the options that he had, from princesses to Diana Ross, please! She looks like a complete homebody, or one of those nobodies you'd randomly pick for a social experiment or low budget cereal commercial
Everything about her was so modest, and magnetic, dandy and dreamy, prim and proper, pretty and put-together, calm and collected, regal and radiant, spunky and sassy, feminine and foxy - the woman of your fantasies, and she was always top pick for whatever project Michael worked on!
I had for the last two weeks, like an FBI agent, tried to uncover some dirt on her. Twice I caught her in the office, on the phone with some guy named "Dave the plumber", which is a pretty smart move, for covering a secret love affair. I couldn't wait to spout this to Director, he was so adamant about keeping love and lust from the office and studio, AND Michael SINGLE AND CHASTE that he had singlehandedly fired three newbies last week over their girlish squeals and chatter about a triple date night with their pathetic girlfriends from the Queens and he threatened to do it again, but before I could even open my mouth to say a word, Myla....
I looked around the garage, there were so many new faces - something I appreciate about Michael and his crew, sameness and familiarity are like Jello and pudding to them, they only offer so much difference texture, flavor, experience and taste. Michael sees the potential and art in always changing, experimenting and trying new perspectives.
From the angle I have, overseeing, the dancers float around the space, chitter chatting, and mingling with each other, it feels as if I'm watching a family reunion; everyone knows each other and at the same time no one does, new and novel is being passed around from ear to ear, and yet everyone is familiar with each other.
Right then, my stomach growled, and I made my way towards the snack bar in between of the pillars in the train station. I had eaten breakfast around 445am or 515am, I was in a hurry out the door to catch the bus to get on site before 800am. Thank God I made, it because I spent thirty minutes looking for my bus ticket, that was stapled onto my pant leg before some reason...I fingered a banana. I had recently weaned myself off of my year- long keto diet - I had a couple pounds from my last breakup to lose - and now every food was on the menu. but then turned my eyes to the basket of chocolate which I couldn't resist, which was such an opportune move, because I ran right into my arch nemesis, Jennifer!
DIRECTOR: "Can I have a word with you and Myla please?"
Director took advantage of our little run-in, appearing out of the parted sea, her firmly put a hand on our finely chiseled shoulders to keep us from scad-dadling away like hermit crabs.
ROWAN: I hadn't noticed Myla had been here the entire time, there wasn't much need for a guitarist for this song, but Michael had been hinting at a project to follow up BAD, and apparently, He was going to need a guitarist or two to bring it to life. He was in between, "**It Doesn't Matter", "**We're All the Same" or "Black or White" for the name of it- I personally liked the first title it felt more ambiguous and profound and less elementary like, "Black or White". I mean come on! "Black or White" is like, "The Wheels on the Bus" obviously the nursey rhyme is about wheels on a bus. I feel as if, "Black or White" gives away the gist of the song which from the sound of the title is probably about equality and love.
The one quality about Michael, that I don't appreciate is his need to dumb down and sugarcoat everything. For instance, he includes little if any profanity in his lyrics which I feel, in my mind at least, doesn't distinguish him much from his Jacksons goody-two-shoes image. This BAD album that he's cutting is a lousy attempt at transitioning from his mommy-hold-my-hand-image to i'm-a-baddie-and-i'll-steal-your-girl persona. Saying I'm bad, over and over again, doesn't have much of that macho effect as he thinks it does.
If he's as into his solo career and producing a remarkable, all-inspiring and sensational name for himself then he needs, to rip off the band-aid of "family-friendly", "sensible and suitable" and go all out! I think he's absolutely pathetic in regard to watering down racism. Just say it how it is Michael, never will there be a day on this planet, when everyone holds hands and sings Kumbaya, and kisses each other without someone trying to eliminate someone. We're not all going to be equal ever, stop trying to create a fantasy.
DIRECTOR: "Look, this is a business. We're here, we're all here, to get in and get out, make money, maybe a little name for ourselves, a decent apartment in Hollywood and that's it. I've been overhearing from the boys [He's referring to Rod and **Avion], about a little feud going on between you two and I'm just here to say, whatever is going on needs to dial down, the last thing I need before this album breaks the charts, is a little birdie in my ears yapping on and on about how you two can't get along. Go on a play date or something, you two are animals, work it out."
ROWAN: He kept going on and on, and somehow made the whole pep talk about himself and how mentally insane he felt under all the pressure of editing and dealing with the bum-fumbling, backyard-talent-show-level dancers and a lily-livered Michael. He always made everything about himself, although I'm almost confident, that Michael out of all of us, was suffocating under outfit changes and adjustments, crew members quitting or demanding higher pay, video camera breaking, and film being lost. Director couldn't even touch his toes or clap his hands if his life depended on it. Jennifer's face looked cold as stone, as he gripped both of our arms and made us face each other.
I couldn't stand Myla.
Close your eyes for a minute and imagine that one obnoxious teacher's pet but then her all grown up and heads over heels in love with Michael Jackson, and it's not one sided. Michael and her, are like two peas in a pod, which makes my blood boil. He always bounces every and anything off her, "Myla, what do you think", "What's you're feeling on this?". Get a room already!!! Even down to the stupid metal buckles of his sleeves, IT ALL REVLOVES AROUND HER. Her out of all the options that he had, from princesses to Diana Ross, please! She looks like a complete homebody, or one of those nobodies you'd randomly pick for a social experiment or low budget cereal commercial
Everything about her was so modest, and magnetic, dandy and dreamy, prim and proper, pretty and put-together, calm and collected, regal and radiant, spunky and sassy, feminine and foxy - the woman of your fantasies, and she was always top pick for whatever project Michael worked on!
I had for the last two weeks, like an FBI agent, tried to uncover some dirt on her. Twice I caught her in the office, on the phone with some guy named "Dave the plumber", which is a pretty smart move, for covering a secret love affair. I couldn't wait to spout this to Director, he was so adamant about keeping love and lust from the office and studio, AND Michael SINGLE AND CHASTE that he had singlehandedly fired three newbies last week over their girlish squeals and chatter about a triple date night with their pathetic girlfriends from the Queens and he threatened to do it again, but before I could even open my mouth to say a word, Myla....
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mariah
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MR ROD: Michael, what year is it? Record Groove of Midnight for the CD version of Bad, and I'll stay.
MICHAEL: "1987...Rod, please don't quit, I need you. I have a creative direction I want myself to go in, and I don't want to be piggybacking off of you. I need to make Michael; I need to make the sound and feel and groove that I want to be known by. My whole career up to this point, I've been force fed what to say, and do and be, and this album, BAD, is the perfect opportunity that I can't pass up, to let every eye and critic and fan, know the magic and escapism that is inside of me. It's an opportunity to give them a peek inside of what makes me, what makes my soul sing. I want to do that independently, but I'll always need your expertise and ear by my side. You're a miracle in my life, I can't manage without you Rod."
I gingerly put my hand on his shoulder, hoping that my affectionate gesture, got across the admiration I had for him. Rod is like a brother to me. He's an example of a selfless, artistic, modest, craftsman, who's denied himself sleep, comfort, exhaustion and self-satisfaction to gift me Thriller. He made a friendship with me, despite me being new to who I was without the front of the Jacksons, despite me being a fledging and figuring out the Jackson I wanted to be. Then he, out of the kindness of his heart, generously blessed me with the avenue to be a mouthpiece for the now, hot-on-demand, voguish masterpiece, Thriller. His confidence in me, has made my heart so full and now there's a light inside of me to shine magic and love through the music and feelings I create. There's Michael Jackson without him but not the Michael Jackson.
MICHAEL: "I hope you can understand, and I apologize if I, at all, in what I said or how I said it, offended you or insulted you. I appreciate you Rod, you're one of my idols, truly. I mean that from the bottom of my heart. Siedah, called me last night and wanted your permission to release Groove of Midnight in her album, Kiss of Life, that song suits her Rod..."
MICHAEL: "1987...Rod, please don't quit, I need you. I have a creative direction I want myself to go in, and I don't want to be piggybacking off of you. I need to make Michael; I need to make the sound and feel and groove that I want to be known by. My whole career up to this point, I've been force fed what to say, and do and be, and this album, BAD, is the perfect opportunity that I can't pass up, to let every eye and critic and fan, know the magic and escapism that is inside of me. It's an opportunity to give them a peek inside of what makes me, what makes my soul sing. I want to do that independently, but I'll always need your expertise and ear by my side. You're a miracle in my life, I can't manage without you Rod."
I gingerly put my hand on his shoulder, hoping that my affectionate gesture, got across the admiration I had for him. Rod is like a brother to me. He's an example of a selfless, artistic, modest, craftsman, who's denied himself sleep, comfort, exhaustion and self-satisfaction to gift me Thriller. He made a friendship with me, despite me being new to who I was without the front of the Jacksons, despite me being a fledging and figuring out the Jackson I wanted to be. Then he, out of the kindness of his heart, generously blessed me with the avenue to be a mouthpiece for the now, hot-on-demand, voguish masterpiece, Thriller. His confidence in me, has made my heart so full and now there's a light inside of me to shine magic and love through the music and feelings I create. There's Michael Jackson without him but not the Michael Jackson.
MICHAEL: "I hope you can understand, and I apologize if I, at all, in what I said or how I said it, offended you or insulted you. I appreciate you Rod, you're one of my idols, truly. I mean that from the bottom of my heart. Siedah, called me last night and wanted your permission to release Groove of Midnight in her album, Kiss of Life, that song suits her Rod..."
mariah
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Myla: "I apologize for any and all mayhem that I've apparently caused. I wasn't aware that there was any feud going on between Rowan and I"
ROWAN: Her repulsive, nasty, absolutely gorgeous and breathtaking lips parted into a sweet, godly smile. If her mellow hazel doe eyes weren't masked behind her sunflower blonde curls, I could have guessed they were smiling gingerly too. I swear I could have smacked her smartly across her glowing face if I had more bitter nerves. She's completely insolent and too civilized. Before she could justify her sorry behind, DIRECTOR interrupted her.
DIRECTOR: "- Myla, it was brought to my attention MULTIPLE times by some of your co-workers, particularly Rowan and Rod, that you have been badmouthing her, accusing her of being promiscuous in the studio, particularly to catch the eye of Mr. Jackson. Look, we can settle this now, quite frankly, I've decided to pivot you to another sector of our studio, preferably in the copy room. Obviously, it's no secret that you are prone to using abusive and odious language to your co-workers, so maybe a mundane job in the copy room for a time, will humble you."
He spouted without second thought, from the moment Myla was hired, Director had taken a disliking to her. He had asked her out some time ago and she flatly rejected him saying she was already in a "relationship" which had been a lie...and that had hurt his pride immensely, every new female hire, had been swooned and warmly welcomed his advances apparently a gorgeous Jennifer, was too heavenly for such an averagely handsome man.
ROWAN: I secreted my smirk under my gritted teeth and brazen faced, squeezed Myla's slender, feminine hand to offer her some fake sympathy. I knew that the Rod had taken my side naively because he had been a good family friend and had gotten me, my position as a Jackson's make-up artist because of my quality and manipulation.
Myla: "Respectfully, that's a bold-faced lie, I was introduced to Rowan, last week, as I've recently switched from the management department...I've had no face-to-face or verbal contact or interaction (she used her fingers to justify herself) with her since Michael-Mr. Jackson introduced us. Maybe you have me mixed up with Carol...or Glenn"
ROWAN: "Myla, sweetheart, you've done the crime so do the time. You on numerous occasions, especially on lunch breaks, behind my back, have called me a pigheaded s-t, and a w-e. Honestly, you should be appreciative that this hasn't been brought up in Mr. Jackson's hearing. I think it would incite him, he values mutual tolerance and civility between his employees not barbarous, crude, foul, derogatory hate speech. You were so pretty until you opened your mouth."
Despite it being a colorful fabrication, I felt smug, by Myla's appall.
DIRECTOR: "This stays between us, Myla clear, out your office by the end of today, and I'll meet up in the lobby to set you up in the copy-room. Mr. Jackson doesn't need to be aware of any of the changes that have been made regarding your employment, he has more pressing, urgent and reasonable matters to attend to.
Myla: "Sir, I've-"
ROWAN: "I've also seen her repeatedly flirting with Mr. Jackson, as if it's not obvious to me and everyone else. He's guilible and she's taking advantage of his good-natured heart. He's not developed enough to understand that there is a fine line between professionalism and a manipulative, foxy co-worker. He hasn't mentioned it because you're playing mind games and toying around with him, which is awful...I've completely lost respect for you."
DIRECTOR: "Why am I just hearing about this! Your job here should be terminated Jennifer, we don't need any more of your kind in this office. Our jobs revolve around Mr. Jackson's name and claim to fame not his availability as a - god, I can't even finish my sentence! What is up with your kind, trying to infatuate Mr. Jackson, you're almost has disgusting as Thumbzten, god-she's a devil in heels!"
ROWAN: Her repulsive, nasty, absolutely gorgeous and breathtaking lips parted into a sweet, godly smile. If her mellow hazel doe eyes weren't masked behind her sunflower blonde curls, I could have guessed they were smiling gingerly too. I swear I could have smacked her smartly across her glowing face if I had more bitter nerves. She's completely insolent and too civilized. Before she could justify her sorry behind, DIRECTOR interrupted her.
DIRECTOR: "- Myla, it was brought to my attention MULTIPLE times by some of your co-workers, particularly Rowan and Rod, that you have been badmouthing her, accusing her of being promiscuous in the studio, particularly to catch the eye of Mr. Jackson. Look, we can settle this now, quite frankly, I've decided to pivot you to another sector of our studio, preferably in the copy room. Obviously, it's no secret that you are prone to using abusive and odious language to your co-workers, so maybe a mundane job in the copy room for a time, will humble you."
He spouted without second thought, from the moment Myla was hired, Director had taken a disliking to her. He had asked her out some time ago and she flatly rejected him saying she was already in a "relationship" which had been a lie...and that had hurt his pride immensely, every new female hire, had been swooned and warmly welcomed his advances apparently a gorgeous Jennifer, was too heavenly for such an averagely handsome man.
ROWAN: I secreted my smirk under my gritted teeth and brazen faced, squeezed Myla's slender, feminine hand to offer her some fake sympathy. I knew that the Rod had taken my side naively because he had been a good family friend and had gotten me, my position as a Jackson's make-up artist because of my quality and manipulation.
Myla: "Respectfully, that's a bold-faced lie, I was introduced to Rowan, last week, as I've recently switched from the management department...I've had no face-to-face or verbal contact or interaction (she used her fingers to justify herself) with her since Michael-Mr. Jackson introduced us. Maybe you have me mixed up with Carol...or Glenn"
ROWAN: "Myla, sweetheart, you've done the crime so do the time. You on numerous occasions, especially on lunch breaks, behind my back, have called me a pigheaded s-t, and a w-e. Honestly, you should be appreciative that this hasn't been brought up in Mr. Jackson's hearing. I think it would incite him, he values mutual tolerance and civility between his employees not barbarous, crude, foul, derogatory hate speech. You were so pretty until you opened your mouth."
Despite it being a colorful fabrication, I felt smug, by Myla's appall.
DIRECTOR: "This stays between us, Myla clear, out your office by the end of today, and I'll meet up in the lobby to set you up in the copy-room. Mr. Jackson doesn't need to be aware of any of the changes that have been made regarding your employment, he has more pressing, urgent and reasonable matters to attend to.
Myla: "Sir, I've-"
ROWAN: "I've also seen her repeatedly flirting with Mr. Jackson, as if it's not obvious to me and everyone else. He's guilible and she's taking advantage of his good-natured heart. He's not developed enough to understand that there is a fine line between professionalism and a manipulative, foxy co-worker. He hasn't mentioned it because you're playing mind games and toying around with him, which is awful...I've completely lost respect for you."
DIRECTOR: "Why am I just hearing about this! Your job here should be terminated Jennifer, we don't need any more of your kind in this office. Our jobs revolve around Mr. Jackson's name and claim to fame not his availability as a - god, I can't even finish my sentence! What is up with your kind, trying to infatuate Mr. Jackson, you're almost has disgusting as Thumbzten, god-she's a devil in heels!"
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mariah
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ROWAN: The mention of Tatiana, made a weird glow across Myla's face...almost as if she felt threatened. Hmmm...
MYLA: "I don't think it's fair to compare me to Tatiana, she's going after something that she can't have...something that's already taken..."
DIRECTOR: I beg your pardon Myla, she has already been cast to play his love interest in The Way You Make Me Feel, I'm not sure what you mean by that statement.
MYLA: "I don't think it's fair to compare me to Tatiana, she's going after something that she can't have...something that's already taken..."
DIRECTOR: I beg your pardon Myla, she has already been cast to play his love interest in The Way You Make Me Feel, I'm not sure what you mean by that statement.
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Hot_Street
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MR ROD: What kind of things do you do in the apartment?
Mariah :)
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i meant Myla my bad
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