Blackcat
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Anyone remember them? ^^
They were great, especially Darren Hayes, he has a very beautiful voice.
To the moon and back.
Some weeks ago I listened to his songs and I thought that some parts in his songs reminds me of MJ..the way he sings it. I thought that MJ was probably his inspiration.
And today I checked out his myspace blog. Hey I was right.
He's a MJ fan.
June 2009
The man with a child in his eyes
When I was a little boy, he was my hero.
When I was a young man, he was my sanity.
Taking me away from the pain in my life and filling my heart with joy and wonder.
When I was 13 I saw him live in concert and from the second he arrived on stage I knew what I was going to do for the rest of my life. It was September 1987 and I have to this day never seen anything more extraordinary. To this day I've never seen a reaction from audience like the one he received. I've never seen magic and glitter fly through the air and witness that electricity start up hearts the way he did that night. And now I'm certain the world never again will. Thank you Michael Jackson. On behalf of dreamers the world over. The world is a duller place without you. I'm so privileged to have lived in the same lifetime to witness even a moment of your glory.
--------------------
'He Gave Us All He Had Been Given'
It's such a sad day for those who appreciated Michael Jackson today.
A day of celebration of a glorious life. But sadness that it was taken so quickly and so soon. And denying children of a father and a family of a beloved brother and son. I was so moved by the poem written by Maya Angelou at the memorial I wanted to post it here. As I cried my heart out today I realized that it was for the greatness we lost and perhaps some shame for what a cruel world did to someone so unique. It was the irony that in spite of what little the world gave him at times, this man gave every atom in his being to the dance of life. And for a handful of years we were lucky enough to bask in the glory of that magnificent light. As someone said to me recently, each of us has a flame inside us that needs igniting. Michael did that for me as a 13 year old boy. And though he is no longer among us, I like to think that my flame burns a little bit brighter because of him and his gift of music, dance and wonderment. I carry it with me and I hope that I can be selfless enough to pass it on to anyone who should need to find their unique spark.
We Had Him - By Maya Angelou
Beloveds, now we know that we know nothing, now that our bright and shining star can slip away from our fingertips like a puff of summer wind.
Without notice, our dear love can escape our doting embrace. Sing our songs among the stars and walk our dances across the face of the moon.....
The instant that Michael is gone, we know nothing. No clocks can tell time. No oceans can rush our tides with the abrupt absence of our treasure.....
Though we are many, each of us is achingly alone, piercingly alone. Only when we confess our confusion can we remember that he was a gift to us and we did have him.
He came to us from the creator, trailing creativity in abundance. Despite the anguish, his life was sheathed in mother love, family love, and survived and did more than that.
He thrived with passion and compassion, humor and style. We had him whether we know who he was or did not know, he was ours and we were his.....
We had him, beautiful, delighting our eyes. His hat, aslant over his brow, and took a pose on his toes for all of us. And we laughed and stomped our feet for him.
We were enchanted with his passion because he held nothing. He gave us all he had been given.....
Today in Tokyo, beneath the Eiffel Tower, in Ghana's Black Star Square. In Johannesburg and Pittsburgh, in Birmingham, Alabama, and Birmingham, England.
We are missing Michael. But we do know we had him, and we are the world.
------------------
october 2009
This Is It..
In 1987 a 15 year old version of myself screamed his lungs as Michael Jackson sizzled and popped his way, seemingly on thin air, accross the floor of the Brisbane Entertainment Centre. He wore a shiny silver stage costume with black buckles on the shoulder and I swear I was so close I can still remember his perfume.
It's 22 years later and today I woke up and dubbed it 'Michael Jackson Day'. I'd booked tickets to go see his 'This Is It' movie and visit the exhibition of his costumes and memorabilia at the 02 Arena in London.
I had mixed feelings about the film prior to going in. I'd heard all the hype from the advertising machine and I'd heard the conspiracy theories from those who felt the film was cashing in. But somewhere in the middle I guess the chance to see my childhood hero on the big screen and on the precipice of a triumphant return was the feeling that trumped them all. Truth be told, even when tickets went on sale for the original concert that never was to be, I was skeptical. I'd seen M.J live many times, but the last time was in NYC in 2001 and he was clearly struggling.
I didn't blame him - what was left after the trials and tribulations of the child abuse accusations was a frail man, unsure of himself and gun shy in a spot light of humiliation and degradation. He seemed as though his spirit had been broken, that he'd become overwhelmed by the vultures and the fame monster.
That was a few days before September 11 2001.
I remember the show so clearly, not only because of its proximity to such a tragic date in history - but because I had seen my hero fall to the ground. After the concert
I had the overwhelming feeling that something was wrong, and I changed my plans dramatically to leave NYC earlier than planned. I was supposed to come home on September 11 (on a flight that would eventually, sadly, perish) and instead I chose to come home a few days earlier.
When I woke up on September 11 the world would never be the same.
For Michael Jackson, I guess this was true in a way none of us could have imagined back then.
Fast forward to recent times, and Michael had survived round 2 of scandal and accusation.
Only this time, perhaps only barely. We all know the story so I don't have to repeat it here. But the memory is one of a man on the run. From us. From Them. From himself. Less than half the man he used to be, seemingly stripped of his accolades and certainly his dignity.
Let me back it up by saying, M.J is and was my hero growing up. I didn't have a positive male role model in my life - and when I was teased at school for being a 'faggot' or 'queer' I looked up to this man who seemed to be both male and female to me. Strength and sensitivity. Subtlety and electric shock force in one. And when the world called him strange, I just saw myself reflected back. I saw a spirit that could not be broken. When I first saw him in concert, I think I've mentioned before, I suddenly knew what I wanted to do for the rest of my life. This feeling was the polar opposite of how I'd felt in New York in 2001.
So the idea of seeing M.J on stage again in 2009 - in a show that many suggested was a 'have to' instead of a 'want to' situation - I wasn't eager to bear witness.
Not because I didn't love Michael or appreciate his talent. I think it's because (and I'm ashamed to admit) I didn't really really think he could pull it off. And I wanted to remember Michael as the hero who inspired me. And not as the man the world turned him in to.
2 months before the 'This Is It' tour was due to open I got into a major Michael phase. I was ravenous about the 'Bad' tour (the first one I ever saw) and his costumes back then. Especially that silver shirt. I began frantically seraching for rare concert footage and listening to his albums daily. So much so that my other half thought I was losing it.
At the last minute, like most people, I bought a golden ticket to his show.
And a few weeks later, Michael had died.
Tonight, I've seen the film which is essentially a document of the rehearsal and almost dress rehearsal of what Michael's farewell performances were going to be. And I was filled with awe and sadness.
Awe in the scale, scope and ambition of the stage show.
Awe of Michael's spirit and talent - still present even in rehearsal mode.
But incredibly sad that he was robbed the opportunity to do these shows that would have reclaimed his dignity once and for all.
Like most people, I guess I had underestimated him.
If you believe the hype, he was barely present at rehearsals. He was ill (he did seem dramatically under weight) and 'out of it'. But what I saw, was a 50 year old man remembering his magic. I saw glimpses of brilliance and the possibility of a reclamation of respect from his peers and critics alike.
Walking through the halls of memorabilia afterwards, I found myself again filled with sadness and gratitude. So glad that the positive things about him seem to be the ones that linger. So sad that the silver shirt that I had reached out for in hysteria, separated by a crash barrier and layers of security, lasers and fog - was now inches from my hands. Not even behind glass. There. Touchable. Real.
I don't know what the lesson in any of this is.
I know the shock for me was seeing something so untouchable, so superhuman, appear to tangiable and, dare I say it, mortal.
But perhaps the biggest thought I'm left with is the need to appreciate things in the moment - and celebrate the blessings we're given when we have them.
Becuase as I watched the film the thought that kept playing over in my head was 'if only we had him for a little while longer. If only more people could have seen this'.
But that's the thing with 'if only'....
__
I didn't know where to post this, but I hope it's ok here in this section.
They were great, especially Darren Hayes, he has a very beautiful voice.
To the moon and back.
Some weeks ago I listened to his songs and I thought that some parts in his songs reminds me of MJ..the way he sings it. I thought that MJ was probably his inspiration.
And today I checked out his myspace blog. Hey I was right.
He's a MJ fan. June 2009
The man with a child in his eyes
When I was a little boy, he was my hero.
When I was a young man, he was my sanity.
Taking me away from the pain in my life and filling my heart with joy and wonder.
When I was 13 I saw him live in concert and from the second he arrived on stage I knew what I was going to do for the rest of my life. It was September 1987 and I have to this day never seen anything more extraordinary. To this day I've never seen a reaction from audience like the one he received. I've never seen magic and glitter fly through the air and witness that electricity start up hearts the way he did that night. And now I'm certain the world never again will. Thank you Michael Jackson. On behalf of dreamers the world over. The world is a duller place without you. I'm so privileged to have lived in the same lifetime to witness even a moment of your glory.
--------------------
'He Gave Us All He Had Been Given'
It's such a sad day for those who appreciated Michael Jackson today.
A day of celebration of a glorious life. But sadness that it was taken so quickly and so soon. And denying children of a father and a family of a beloved brother and son. I was so moved by the poem written by Maya Angelou at the memorial I wanted to post it here. As I cried my heart out today I realized that it was for the greatness we lost and perhaps some shame for what a cruel world did to someone so unique. It was the irony that in spite of what little the world gave him at times, this man gave every atom in his being to the dance of life. And for a handful of years we were lucky enough to bask in the glory of that magnificent light. As someone said to me recently, each of us has a flame inside us that needs igniting. Michael did that for me as a 13 year old boy. And though he is no longer among us, I like to think that my flame burns a little bit brighter because of him and his gift of music, dance and wonderment. I carry it with me and I hope that I can be selfless enough to pass it on to anyone who should need to find their unique spark.
We Had Him - By Maya Angelou
Beloveds, now we know that we know nothing, now that our bright and shining star can slip away from our fingertips like a puff of summer wind.
Without notice, our dear love can escape our doting embrace. Sing our songs among the stars and walk our dances across the face of the moon.....
The instant that Michael is gone, we know nothing. No clocks can tell time. No oceans can rush our tides with the abrupt absence of our treasure.....
Though we are many, each of us is achingly alone, piercingly alone. Only when we confess our confusion can we remember that he was a gift to us and we did have him.
He came to us from the creator, trailing creativity in abundance. Despite the anguish, his life was sheathed in mother love, family love, and survived and did more than that.
He thrived with passion and compassion, humor and style. We had him whether we know who he was or did not know, he was ours and we were his.....
We had him, beautiful, delighting our eyes. His hat, aslant over his brow, and took a pose on his toes for all of us. And we laughed and stomped our feet for him.
We were enchanted with his passion because he held nothing. He gave us all he had been given.....
Today in Tokyo, beneath the Eiffel Tower, in Ghana's Black Star Square. In Johannesburg and Pittsburgh, in Birmingham, Alabama, and Birmingham, England.
We are missing Michael. But we do know we had him, and we are the world.
------------------
october 2009
This Is It..
In 1987 a 15 year old version of myself screamed his lungs as Michael Jackson sizzled and popped his way, seemingly on thin air, accross the floor of the Brisbane Entertainment Centre. He wore a shiny silver stage costume with black buckles on the shoulder and I swear I was so close I can still remember his perfume.
It's 22 years later and today I woke up and dubbed it 'Michael Jackson Day'. I'd booked tickets to go see his 'This Is It' movie and visit the exhibition of his costumes and memorabilia at the 02 Arena in London.
I had mixed feelings about the film prior to going in. I'd heard all the hype from the advertising machine and I'd heard the conspiracy theories from those who felt the film was cashing in. But somewhere in the middle I guess the chance to see my childhood hero on the big screen and on the precipice of a triumphant return was the feeling that trumped them all. Truth be told, even when tickets went on sale for the original concert that never was to be, I was skeptical. I'd seen M.J live many times, but the last time was in NYC in 2001 and he was clearly struggling.
I didn't blame him - what was left after the trials and tribulations of the child abuse accusations was a frail man, unsure of himself and gun shy in a spot light of humiliation and degradation. He seemed as though his spirit had been broken, that he'd become overwhelmed by the vultures and the fame monster.
That was a few days before September 11 2001.
I remember the show so clearly, not only because of its proximity to such a tragic date in history - but because I had seen my hero fall to the ground. After the concert
I had the overwhelming feeling that something was wrong, and I changed my plans dramatically to leave NYC earlier than planned. I was supposed to come home on September 11 (on a flight that would eventually, sadly, perish) and instead I chose to come home a few days earlier.
When I woke up on September 11 the world would never be the same.
For Michael Jackson, I guess this was true in a way none of us could have imagined back then.
Fast forward to recent times, and Michael had survived round 2 of scandal and accusation.
Only this time, perhaps only barely. We all know the story so I don't have to repeat it here. But the memory is one of a man on the run. From us. From Them. From himself. Less than half the man he used to be, seemingly stripped of his accolades and certainly his dignity.
Let me back it up by saying, M.J is and was my hero growing up. I didn't have a positive male role model in my life - and when I was teased at school for being a 'faggot' or 'queer' I looked up to this man who seemed to be both male and female to me. Strength and sensitivity. Subtlety and electric shock force in one. And when the world called him strange, I just saw myself reflected back. I saw a spirit that could not be broken. When I first saw him in concert, I think I've mentioned before, I suddenly knew what I wanted to do for the rest of my life. This feeling was the polar opposite of how I'd felt in New York in 2001.
So the idea of seeing M.J on stage again in 2009 - in a show that many suggested was a 'have to' instead of a 'want to' situation - I wasn't eager to bear witness.
Not because I didn't love Michael or appreciate his talent. I think it's because (and I'm ashamed to admit) I didn't really really think he could pull it off. And I wanted to remember Michael as the hero who inspired me. And not as the man the world turned him in to.
2 months before the 'This Is It' tour was due to open I got into a major Michael phase. I was ravenous about the 'Bad' tour (the first one I ever saw) and his costumes back then. Especially that silver shirt. I began frantically seraching for rare concert footage and listening to his albums daily. So much so that my other half thought I was losing it.
At the last minute, like most people, I bought a golden ticket to his show.
And a few weeks later, Michael had died.
Tonight, I've seen the film which is essentially a document of the rehearsal and almost dress rehearsal of what Michael's farewell performances were going to be. And I was filled with awe and sadness.
Awe in the scale, scope and ambition of the stage show.
Awe of Michael's spirit and talent - still present even in rehearsal mode.
But incredibly sad that he was robbed the opportunity to do these shows that would have reclaimed his dignity once and for all.
Like most people, I guess I had underestimated him.
If you believe the hype, he was barely present at rehearsals. He was ill (he did seem dramatically under weight) and 'out of it'. But what I saw, was a 50 year old man remembering his magic. I saw glimpses of brilliance and the possibility of a reclamation of respect from his peers and critics alike.
Walking through the halls of memorabilia afterwards, I found myself again filled with sadness and gratitude. So glad that the positive things about him seem to be the ones that linger. So sad that the silver shirt that I had reached out for in hysteria, separated by a crash barrier and layers of security, lasers and fog - was now inches from my hands. Not even behind glass. There. Touchable. Real.
I don't know what the lesson in any of this is.
I know the shock for me was seeing something so untouchable, so superhuman, appear to tangiable and, dare I say it, mortal.
But perhaps the biggest thought I'm left with is the need to appreciate things in the moment - and celebrate the blessings we're given when we have them.
Becuase as I watched the film the thought that kept playing over in my head was 'if only we had him for a little while longer. If only more people could have seen this'.
But that's the thing with 'if only'....
__
I didn't know where to post this, but I hope it's ok here in this section.
