Just chew up something and spit it into my mouth. I will guess what it is and re-feed you. Oh, God its love!!!
(pause)
Michael Jackson was buried today…
And all I could think about was an awesome girl re-barfing food into my mouth while beating me with a whip made of beef jerky? Now hold on… HOLD ON! I know that’s pretty gross (for some of you). And I don’t really think I would like to spend EVERY Sunday evening being fed Hot Pockets like a baby eagle but I do think that the object of my undying love is a girl who is willing to spit food into my mouth like a zoo creature. A woman like that holds no fear and is truly free.
Unlike Michael Jackson. Did he know true love? The Ferris Wheels and the pony rides? Yeah… alright. PYT? Uh, I’m not going there. His idea of love was a bizarre combination of his desire to remain a five year old mental patient mixed with society’s insatiable appetite for moonwalking. He was half ogurt. On the gloved hand he lived on his own terms and didn’t really give a damn what everyone thought. Plus, he didn’t have a nose and grabbed his crotch with compulsive frequency. Cha-mon! The creative side of him was fearless and inspiring like true ogurts are known to be. His brilliance was driven by his lack of fear.
But then again, on the non-gloved hand, he was a prisoner. He wasn’t free and lived in perpetual terror. He bought the lie with so much gusto it turned his brain inside out. He let society’s expectations of him dictate his life. Some would argue that his imprisonment was unavoidable due to how he was thrown into a life of insanity by a freak out of a father and that argument has merit. Like all others who become embroiled in the vortex of fame and self-importance he lost. To others he was a monster end of story. He was crushed under incredible public scrutiny anytime he did anything (some well deserved) and drastically altered his appearance with disturbing face stretchings and frightening chemical peels to retain his false sense of celebrity appeal.
This isn’t a hate piece. This is a minor rant on the tragedy that was MJ’s life and how he moved away from himself and became a horror show. He acquiesced. I’m sincere in these views and how fear wrecks everything. This blog is about being ogurt for chrissakes which btw, is the total opposite of fear. Because to go out in public like this:
You are most definitely ogurt and cannot give a FUCK what people think.
And MJ is a prime example of this. The first thirty years of MJ’s life? AWESOME. In the moment, each second better than the last. A creative master with an entire planet receptive to his energy. The last twenty five years? A complete nightmare. Fear took over and warped him into bleached skeleton sideshow clown. He lived a sad and twisted life. So when I think of the fear that controlled his life for the last twenty years I am moved to want the extreme opposite. I think about love and how love feeds upon fearlessness…
Now feed me like a bald eagle!
3 responses so far ↓
Amber // July 8, 2009 at 1:37 pm |
This is good, Adam. One of the best things I’ve read by you.
annette // August 29, 2009 at 4:36 am |
Agree, his life was tragic…I think he was sad, obviously mentally ill and trying to live some sort of childhood he never had. Oh, btw, did you hear that when they found him his freaking nose was NOT on his face?! I hope his kids didn’t see that. Good lord. lol
Good stuff here.
annette // August 29, 2009 at 4:38 am |
Oh one other thing, the part above with the photo and the, “Because to go out in public like this:….You are most definitely ogurt and cannot give a FUCK what people think.”
Dude. I literally laughed out loud. haha So true.