The Michael Jackson Post

Something is all the buzz right now and I can’t help it, I must give my two-cents.  You all know what’s coming.

This is the Michael Jackson Post.

Right now, I’m sitting here at my desk in my polka-dotted boxers jamming to Billie Jean and remember the first time I experienced The King of Pop.

I used to watch TV late at night as a kid.  The first, and ultimately the most profound, music video I ever remember seeing was Michael Jackson’s Black or White.  It was so new to me.  An entirely different experience.  The video was epic, well directed, highly entertaining and it presented a catchy lesson.  Although I always found it a bit ironic.  Maybe my generation owes more than we think to the late Michael Jackson.

It was always a great day when I happened to catch a Michael Jackson video on television.

I was young and impressionable but, Michael Jackson, despite his own personal struggles, always presented an idealistic view of humanity through the lens of his music.

His songwriting was genius to the point of absurdity.  He had a special way of taking serious topics and turning them into 5 minute earworms that would keep you foot-tapping all day.

Even though many other musical artists were hitting the air-waves in the early 90’s, I grew up Michael Jackson.

Thank you Michael.  You will be forever remembered. 

Bonnarooing

Between joyous yells of “Bonnaroo” and the constant presence of hippies, freakers, burnouts and vagabonds it’s hard to remember the reality that waits just beyond the festival gates, what most of us call “the real world”. But for four days and three nights Bonnaroo 2009 was the apex of human experience; pressed, wrapped and sold in individual baggies to any who were brave enough to go for the ride.

For a seemingly frail guy like me, Bonnaroo presented many unique problems. Problems that I can assure you were a nice escape from the responsibilities of responsible life. Sunburns, chaffing, insect bites, forced intoxications and lastly the loss of mind are all factors in bringing any novice to his knees. Yet, something gentle and welcoming remains an integral part of the Bonnaroo experience. Mainly, the people who, despite the grueling conditions, show enormous generosity and fortitude that can only be explained as a necessity.

It’s this selfless behavior that binds the festival community together to form hundreds of personal relationships that may, or may not, continue outside of the festival grounds. Amazingly, it’s rather easy to make friends while walking around half-dead, smelling of puss in a drunken and confused stupor.

Bonnaroo, for myself, is as much about the people as it is about the bands. For example: Bruce and Carla, glass blowers from Asheville, North Carolina. The couple makes it out to festivals every year to sell their double and triple blown goods. Or Christie, who recently became domesticated, she ditches her husband every year to head to “The Roo”. Finally, Harry Perry, the greatest guitarist who has ever lived. That last sentence is tongue in cheek.

Now that Bonnaroo 2009 has passed I’m left feeling a bit empty inside. As if some primal part of my personality stayed behind in my camping spot. That part of every person that allows him to connect to others on a level deeper than what is typical. Human to human. Heart to heart. Mind to mind. The commonality of the human condition baffles me.