Goodbye Michael...

Something I've taken away from this tragedy: Infamy is much more myth than reality.

The Michael Jackson that the world knew was imagined. Afterall, he hardly seemed like a man - the impossible way he moved, his plastic face, his clothes glittering with money - he had the smoke and mirrors to keep the demons and public at bay.

My heart broke when he died. He was a self-described lonely man who was adored the world over, an irony that haunts Hollywood. Celebrity is a damaging illusion but pop culture requires it. Besides, why would we stop? It's much too fun. It's too engrossing. The curiosity to see behind the mask - whether gorgeous or freakish - is inate. Hence celebrity analyzing, gawking, picking apart, worshipping...

To truly love someone means to do the opposite of these things. I don't have the answer though, because I read the damn tabloids too.


Michael, forgive your overly adoring public for drinking you dry... we pray you rest in peace.