Michael Jackson died today. That makes me very sad. In a weird way, he was always an example to me of how to be an artist. I know he was a bit of a fruitcake, but I was always amazed at how sheepish he was in interviews and, conversely, how much attitude and grit he had in his performances. It was like Michael the Artist was the REAL Michael Jackson. It almost seemed as though the only way he knew how to relate to people-to be human-was on stage. There's a demented logic to it all given the way he grew up, but it's kind of encouraging in contrast to where a lot of pop music is today. Michael the Artist, maybe his only authentic persona, is who he gave us. He never tried to flaunt his demons, but we insisted he expose them to us. And maybe we should have from time to time, but we likely also gave them to him. Go easy on the guy in how you remember him. All he ever intentionally gave to us was really, really good. Then we raped him. Again and again. Then we crucified him. Now how about we forgive him?
R.I.P.
