Looking From The Outside Into The Life Of Michael Jackson
Wednesday, 13 Oct 2010, 21:53
Visible to anyone in the world
Edited by Roy Tomkinson, Wednesday, 13 Oct 2010, 22:43
FROM THE OUTSIDE LOOKING INTO THE LIFE OF MICHAEL JACKSON
Looking from the outside into the life of Michael Jackson amid the frenzy and differing stories emerging, one can’t help but wonder what is true and what is fictional. He led his life in the spotlight of publicity, had no choice, had fame, had fortune, a boy star, from a family of performers. Controlled, manipulated, if it is to be believed, by an autocratic father, who bullied, abused and groomed his children for stardom at any cost.
But the most important thing in his life eluded him. I hope now in death, he is able to find it!
He had prestige; accolade, untold wealth, houses, cars; anything he wanted he could buy, and buy he did; often unwisely, as if trying to buy his childhood back, yet, he had debts amounting to $500 million at his death. A colossal sum for any company let alone for an individual, but perhaps he was that, an institution, to be used and exploited.
Was it all worth it?
That is not for me to answer, but I suspect his children may not think it so; they are left without a father. There is a saying in the Wild West, live by the bullet and you die by it. Michael Jackson lived in the media, and now in death nothing is hidden. He lead a bizarre life, his Never-Never-Land Ranch, the fair ground, his monkey Bubbles, his menagerie of animals. His predilection for being with children, and not least of all, his tormented personality; he was not happy inside his body. The operations on his face, his skin treatments, his reliance on tablets, adds up to... I’m going to let you work that conclusion.
The child abuse court case which cost him millions, and yet he couldn't help himself. He was on a roundabout, inside a cage, on his own, and I mean own, merry-go-round; knew he was there, yet didn’t know how to stop it from turning to allow him time to get off.
Did he abuse children?
I think not; inside his heart he was a child; stardom had robbed him of his childhood, and for the rest of his life he tried to regain that feeling of being a child, of playing, laughing, running, smiling. But of course, he failed, for what is lost is gone, and he needed to move on; indeed, should have moved on, but Michael couldn't move forward, he was a train without a track, so he stayed where he was in his mind – a child, a lost child.
He reminded me of the parable of the lost sheep, balanced on a precipice clinging desperately in case it fell. The sheep found help, Michael was still looking; unfortunately, death found him first.
I remember the furore of when he held his baby over the balcony, my heart jumped to see how reckless he could be with another life. I don’t think he thought about it, so cocooned in his own importance, and he failed to see the danger; still, I don’t think he felt he had done anything wrong.
You often find torturous recklessness in people of genius. They have talent, yet often lack common sense, but this article will not be complete unless I separate the man from his music.
There, he was whole. His music pleased. His dance charmed. His personality sparkled. His whole demeanour was of the showman—the great entertainer, the great performer—and because of that, something was lost in the translation back into ordinary everyday reality; frequently, his mask of insecurity showed through, and his veil flapped, look at me, look at me, help me, help me: HIS MESSAGE, MY INTERPRETATION.
He will go down as one of the greats of music. That is assured. (Like Elvis Presley who was another tortured individual who died before his time.)
I said earlier, the most important thing in life eluded him, for all his wealth and fame, or perhaps because of it. I believe he never felt loved or valued for himself, and longed for that feeling of being cherished for what he was, and not for what he could give to others, and give he did of himself over generously.
Would I have changed places with him when he lived? No, if it were offered, I would have run away and carried on running with not even a glance back, but I hope now, Michael Jackson will find the peace he craved in life in death.
Still the drama is centre stage and far from its conclusion. The curtain is up, the show must go forward, and it will, in spectacular fashion; indeed, his place in history assured, rest in peace Michael Jackson; the peace which so badly evaded you in life.
Looking From The Outside Into The Life Of Michael Jackson
FROM THE OUTSIDE LOOKING INTO THE LIFE OF MICHAEL JACKSON
Looking from the outside into the life of Michael Jackson amid the frenzy and differing stories emerging, one can’t help but wonder what is true and what is fictional. He led his life in the spotlight of publicity, had no choice, had fame, had fortune, a boy star, from a family of performers. Controlled, manipulated, if it is to be believed, by an autocratic father, who bullied, abused and groomed his children for stardom at any cost.
But the most important thing in his life eluded him. I hope now in death, he is able to find it!
He had prestige; accolade, untold wealth, houses, cars; anything he wanted he could buy, and buy he did; often unwisely, as if trying to buy his childhood back, yet, he had debts amounting to $500 million at his death. A colossal sum for any company let alone for an individual, but perhaps he was that, an institution, to be used and exploited.
Was it all worth it?
That is not for me to answer, but I suspect his children may not think it so; they are left without a father. There is a saying in the Wild West, live by the bullet and you die by it. Michael Jackson lived in the media, and now in death nothing is hidden.
He lead a bizarre life, his Never-Never-Land Ranch, the fair ground, his monkey Bubbles, his menagerie of animals. His predilection for being with children, and not least of all, his tormented personality; he was not happy inside his body. The operations on his face, his skin treatments, his reliance on tablets, adds up to... I’m going to let you work that conclusion.
The child abuse court case which cost him millions, and yet he couldn't help himself. He was on a roundabout, inside a cage, on his own, and I mean own, merry-go-round; knew he was there, yet didn’t know how to stop it from turning to allow him time to get off.
Did he abuse children?
I think not; inside his heart he was a child; stardom had robbed him of his childhood, and for the rest of his life he tried to regain that feeling of being a child, of playing, laughing, running, smiling. But of course, he failed, for what is lost is gone, and he needed to move on; indeed, should have moved on, but Michael couldn't move forward, he was a train without a track, so he stayed where he was in his mind – a child, a lost child.
He reminded me of the parable of the lost sheep, balanced on a precipice clinging desperately in case it fell. The sheep found help, Michael was still looking; unfortunately, death found him first.
I remember the furore of when he held his baby over the balcony, my heart jumped to see how reckless he could be with another life. I don’t think he thought about it, so cocooned in his own importance, and he failed to see the danger; still, I don’t think he felt he had done anything wrong.
You often find torturous recklessness in people of genius. They have talent, yet often lack common sense, but this article will not be complete unless I separate the man from his music.
There, he was whole. His music pleased. His dance charmed. His personality sparkled. His whole demeanour was of the showman—the great entertainer, the great performer—and because of that, something was lost in the translation back into ordinary everyday reality; frequently, his mask of insecurity showed through, and his veil flapped, look at me, look at me, help me, help me: HIS MESSAGE, MY INTERPRETATION.
He will go down as one of the greats of music. That is assured. (Like Elvis Presley who was another tortured individual who died before his time.)
I said earlier, the most important thing in life eluded him, for all his wealth and fame, or perhaps because of it. I believe he never felt loved or valued for himself, and longed for that feeling of being cherished for what he was, and not for what he could give to others, and give he did of himself over generously.
Would I have changed places with him when he lived? No, if it were offered, I would have run away and carried on running with not even a glance back, but I hope now, Michael Jackson will find the peace he craved in life in death.
Still the drama is centre stage and far from its conclusion. The curtain is up, the show must go forward, and it will, in spectacular fashion; indeed, his place in history assured, rest in peace Michael Jackson; the peace which so badly evaded you in life.
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