I was reclined with my head in the sink readying for my pre-wedding (Billy & Ariel) haircut, when I heard from across the room "omg, Michael Jackson is dead". I sat bolt upright in the chair, water flying everywhere, and loudly exclaimed by disbelief, nearly demanding details and verification from the receptionist. I was sure it was a prank, coming as it was from TMZ. Over the next few minutes, with the news confirmed, I sank into a wordless gloom as Nina snipped, trying to engage me in small talk.

I was surprised at the depth of my reaction to the news, and can't remember another celebrity death since Princess Di that's had this effect on me. Exploring my reaction with friends over drinks last night, I realized that Michael Jackson's is a case where I've always just naturally separated the man from the music. Never once has the sad bizarre circus surrounding his life affected the way I feel about his immense and irrefutable contribution to the popular music pantheon. As for the man and his actions, my sympathy has always outweighed my anger for reasons I cannot justify. Despite all of the allegations, at heart I still view him as a man-child who was horribly wronged at a very young age and then grew into a very sick and lost man. There is solace in knowing that both his suffering and the suffering he causes others are over.

Oh, and a couple of other things:
1. Anyone who equates Farah's icon status with that of Michael is out of their effing mind
2. I nominate Johnny Depp to play Jacko in the inevitable biopic. He's essentially already played him in both Edward Scissorhands and Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.

You Are Not Alone