I am a Los Angeles-based twentysomething. I have a profession, and I have a secret life in music, and this blog isn't about any of that. I like Blogger because I can't read what you're thinking.
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Tuesday, July 7
YOU KNOW WHEN YOU HUM A SONG AND YOU FEEL THAT SICK GROOVE IN YOUR CHEST
The Girlfriend knows about my fascination with this because ever since I got back on the Michael Jackson train last year, I would randomly hum the bass line to "Billie Jean" at the most spontaneous moments. I realized after listening to his early discography that it is my favorite MJ tune.
[walking on the street or whatever]And so forth and so forth.
THE GIRLFRIEND: So I'm, like, pissed, right? He was the worst customer eve--
HUGO: Mm-n-mm-mm-mm-mm-n-n, Mm-n-mm-mm-mm-mm-n-n
THE GIRLFRIEND: Dah. ...Dah. Dah. ...Dah.
So when news came around that MJ died, The Girlfriend said, "And now it's going to be sad whenever you hum 'Billie Jean.' That's, like, your favorite song."
I don't understand why she said that. I never met the guy. I don't even know much about his personal life other than the fact that there were likely too many troubling elements about it, probably too much for the public to fully comprehend.
Because his music can't die (and I'm saying that sans sappiness), I can't really be sad over his death.
First off, he hasn't created a great album--let alone a hit song--since his "Dangerous" days.
Secondly ...well, that's it.
If he made something along the lines of "Get on the Floor" in the past 5 years, perhaps I'd be a little bummed since the potential of more to come would've been present.
But there wasn't. He was too busy shopping or something.