R.I.P. MJ and FF

I sat at my desk this morning, listening to my I-tunes playlist, and about a dozen songs in a row were tearjerkers. Tim McGraw's "Please Remember Me," "If You're Reading This," and "Live Like You Were Dying," plus many sad love songs, and then I heard that Farrah Fawcett had died. I knew her death was coming, but it's still terribly sad when a personality you grew up with leaves the earth, especially with something as horrific as cancer.

Then I worried about my father, who just went into the hospital in Florida with a blood clot in his upper arm; and he's 78 and has diabetes and a pacemaker and sleep apnea and a cranky disposition when it comes to hospital food; and this blood-fucker-clot shocks me into a state of dread and makes me wonder, will I lose my dad now? Really bad timing cuz I'm not ready for it (I'll never be ready for it).

You get the idea. It was a maudlin morning. So there I was sitting at my desk, listening to tearjerkers, sad about Farrah, mourning my baby sister who died last October, worried about Dad, and feeling sorry for myself; and Tim "dirge man" McGraw is pissing me off with all his somebody's-gonna-die ballads -- and before I know it, tears are streaming down my face.

[I hate BLOGGER! It dumped my whole post, and I had to start over! You bleeper bleeping piece of bleep! -- I curbed my potty mouth just for you, Dad.]

What a crappy day, I think. Time for the cure to sappy songs: I crank the ZZ Top. Then I bury myself in my work, cuz I'm good at that and I'm good at my job and I don't wanna think about sad stuff anymore.

Then 5:00 rolls around and I call my dad in the hospital and have a nice chat with him and he says "Did you see Michael Jackson was taken to the hospital?"

NO! See what happens when I'm buried in my work? Bad shit happens. I hang up with Dad and pull up CNN to see what's going on with Michael and instead of the live feed saying he's in a coma, they say he's died. And then I stare in shock at the computer screen, watching the newspeeps and the classic Jackson 5 footage, and now I'm really in a mood. Hypnotized, soaking up whatever info they'll throw out. Tear stains all down my sorry face.

I feel today like I did in 1997 when Princess Diana died. Or when John Lennon died or Jim Croce. All controversy aside, the loss I feel is HUGE. When I talked to my other sister, Star, she said the same thing. We've "known" Michael Jackson since he was a kid -- since I was a kid. We've watched him grow up (um, well he WAS 50 years old), we idolized him and played "Thriller" and "Billie Jean" and "Black or White" and my favorite "Man in the Mirror," and all those other songs, repeatedly. We tried to dance like him, and we were there when he came out with the moonwalk (I got a huge chunk of wood sliver in my socked foot showing off my MJ moonwalking talents) and so many other ground-breaking musical feats. Plus he used to be really cute, and that transformation alone is pretty pitiful. And Farrah, well we Americans always mourn our pinups and icons like they're family.

R.I.P, MJ and FF.

I know I'm rambling, and I'm not normally such a rambler (unless I'm commenting on Michel's or Braja's or Magaret's or Julie's or Jane's or Nikki's or -- any of your damn blogs). But because this is the saddest day of the year so far, and because I can't concentrate, and because I want it to end right here, please say a prayer for my dad (and my mom cuz she's having trouble remembering that her phone number is not the hospital's, and that Mr. WhoTheHellIsThis's room number is quite different from my father's). While Dad's on blood thinners which should dissolve the clot, I don't want to leave anything to chance. A good word sent out to the universe couldn't hurt, right?

Thank you, and y'all be safe.
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