I don’t think I would normally be the best at coming up with words appropriate for matters like these. I’ll give it a shot, though.
Michael Jackson was amazing to me. He had all the discipline and fervor of any Motown act.
I know as well as the rest of the world that he behaved as if he was a crazy, deeply disturbed man. He probably was, but I don’t know for sure. I didn’t know him.
I do know, however, that he is being remembered in all different ways, and in all ranges of taste.
He was a thin, effeminate, soft spoken man, and as a man, entertaining in a world that would normally reject traits like these, it’s bizarre that such a person would make it in the world at all, let alone rise to such a position. He offered a lot of hope to people who were obviously different, particularly to a certain young, thin, effeminate, soft spoken kid in Indio, California. For that I appreciate him greatly.
For a more articulate remembrance, I strongly encourage reading Andrew Sullivan’s article if you haven’t already.
