Michael Jackson: What Happens When Ghosts Die?

First, I made sure to wear my G.I. Joe sunglasses, to aid with my cool factor, and socks, so my feet would slide easier over the floor. Thing is, carpets create too much friction to moonwalk over no matter what footwear one chooses, which prompted me to climb on top of my mom's cedar chest that sat by the window. I climbed up on the chest, did a spin move, and then moonwalked my way from one end of the cedar dance floor to the other. I ended by freezing with one arm extended into the air and the other extended to the floor, with my pinkie and index finger out stretched. I imagined that to anyone on the other side of the window I looked exactly like a silhouette of Michael Jackson. I wanted to be Michael Jackson. I was four years old.

The outpouring of praise for Michael Jackson has been as steady and beautiful as a river since his death. Fans and celebrities from all over the world have poured their droplets of adoration into streams and creeks, hoping that in death their idol finally knows that he was loved and cherished.. Michael Jackson was one of the most captivating entertainers, performers, and artists of the last forty years. No one can deny that, and no one can deny that he revolutionized the field in which he worked and slaved for perfection. He was as strong a force the music industry has ever known. He was the King of Pop.

Through the avenue of music, Michael Jackson transcended boundaries of race, gender, genre, and nationality. Strangely, one could argue that he transcended these boundaries so thoroughly that his own body began to resemble a world without boundaries. The jokes are endless about how the pigment of Jackson's skin went from black to white. The changes were evident to anyone who owned Thriller, bought Bad five years later, and held them up side by side. Regardless of whether the changes to Jackson's complexion, nose structure, and hair were cosmetic or due to medical issues, they made his audience unable to take their eyes off him for reasons more than just his immense talents, and it it wasn't just that he appeared to change races. When one watches Michael's video for "Scream," there are moments in the video when he clearly appears more feminine than his sister Janet and vice versa. Joseph Conrad once wrote of his character Kurtz, "he kicked himself loose from the earth," meaning that Kurtz no longer heeded physical boundaries of any sort, making himself limitless in his potential. In many ways, Michael Jackson's talents gave him limitless potential. Kurtz becomes unnerved by so much freedom and the evils he could act out in its name. Now Michael Jackson is not a Kurtz, but the stranger his appearance became the more he strayed from societal norms.

Michael Jackson became not male, not female, not black, not white, but a ghost of himself as an entertainer and as a human being. His last major work that was both critically and commercially successful was his 1991 album Dangerous, that was almost 20 years ago, but, on CNN, FoxNews, VH1, and MTV, broadcasters, critics, and other entertainers keep commenting that Michael's death is an example of a genius' life cut short and compare the situation to Elvis' death. When both of these men died, they peaked creatively long before their deaths, becoming shades of their former selves on and off the stage. Neither man died happily or satisfied, and perhaps the reason is because they didn't live too short, but too long.

The end of that last paragraph sounds cold, but the Michael Jackson that died on Thursday was not the Michael Jackson who burst onto the scene singing "ABC easy as 123," mesmerized the world with just a green strobe light behind him, made zombies dance in the streets, or brought LA gang members into his videos. The Michael Jackson that died this past Thursday had "kicked" himself so far beyond the norms of society that he dangled his own children over ledges, repeatedly made himself vulnerable to child molestation charges, and even went as far as to say that there's nothing wrong with sharing one's bed with a child. The artist who once sang "There comes a time...when the world must come together as one" became the propagandist who accused Sony Records of being racists and Devils because he blamed them for the failure of his 2001 album Invincible, when Sony actually promoted his album more than most. As Jackson looked and acted more bizarre, much of the general public found it hard to focus on his talents anymore. While Michael's music could still bring people together on the dance floor, his actions as a person made him more and more divisive. His personal life, which was once the sideshow, became the main event as he metamorphosed into the Elephant Man's bones, having failed to acquire the remains of a past "freak," he became the "freak" of the present.

As a kid, I was not a patient person, and the thing I had the most trouble waiting for was to get on roller coasters. I hated twisting and turning and zigging and zagging through the turnstiles that every amusement park herds its customers. The only time I enjoyed this grazing ritual was in line for the Georgia Cyclone at Six Flags; they repeatedly played Michael Jackson's "Black or White" video the whole time I was in line. Standing in 90 degree, humid heat, we all watched one of the greatest entertainers the world has ever seen and forgot that we were actually in line for something else. Michael Jackson is one of few people to have that rare talent to capture the attentions and imaginations of people no matter what they are doing. Sadly, he often captured our minds in ways that were detrimental to anyone who wanted him to be perfect, the children whom he may have harmed, and to himself. The attention he truly needed from the world was psychological help, and he needed it years ago.

Michael Jackson died Thursday, but doesn't it feel like the world started mourning for him years ago? The image of him as Captain Eo, at Disney World, is an apparition of the past. His heroism left this planet long before his body did, when he chose to live in a fantasy world he called Neverland. He chose to join a world of mermaids, pirates, and boys who can't grow old, and our willingness to overlook the strangeness of his crossing over into a realm of fantasy and inappropriate behaviors while his body was still on this earth and a member of society is a testament to two things: Michael Jackson's transcendent talents and the ability of the human head and heart to forgive and forget. These last few days show that in death people focus on the positive and leave the judgements for God, which begs the question:

Is death the only event that triggers understanding and forgiveness?

Rest in peace, Michael. I wish you could have found peace years ago. I wish we could have helped you before your life spiraled into something as haunting as a ghost story. Your existence as an artist should not have been an excuse to live with untreated pain.