Yesterday I went to teach Fabio and Tatiana. While Tatiana arrived, Fabio received me with the news that Michael Jackson had died. I was shocked. No, he was not my heroe, but he was an ikon, a milestone in my life, as in any other 80s teenager. I came of age listening to his songs. I fell in love with Ben and the poor kid who befriended him. I remembered the whole process of a sweet African-American boy transforming into a weird production of his own madness. His nose jobs, his slow depigmentation, his marriage to Elvis Presley's daughter, his balancing his child from a high balcony in a hotel, his Never Land, his participation in World Aid, his fondness for Diana Ross, his depravation. His was not a normal life, but then again, whose is?
He became the King of Pop and Madonna was his Queen. His songs, from "Ben" to "Heal the World" have been ringing through life. He was not an example to follow, which king has? Dead or alive, fictious or real, kings are human, they take good decisions and fatal ones. I don't excuse Michael Jackson, but I don't encapsule him into one deed. WE're all human, we are bound to commit mistakes.
pues no, a mí si no me impactó nadita jajaja... y eso que me gustan algunas rolas, nada más porque sí...
ReplyDeletepero si me dijeran que Goran Bregovic se muere o que Paul Banks se casa, mi corazón se quebraría un poco jajajajajaja.
ay Clau, no me siento bien hoy, cuando leas mi último post en "no me puedo resistir blog" sabrás por qué
:(