"Michael Jackson was so gifted, so lonely, so confused, so sad. He lost happiness somewhere in his childhood, and spent his life trying to go back there and find it. When he played the Scarecrow in "The Wiz" (1978), I think that is how he felt, and Oz was where he wanted to live. It was his most truly autobiographical role. He could understand a character who felt stuffed with straw, but could wonderfully sing and dance, and could cheer up the little girl Dorothy."
I've also come across this book a few times and have decided that I want to read it in lieu of losing our strange pop star.
Massive Swelling: Celebrity Reexamined as a Grotesque, Crippling Disease and Other Cultural Revelations
For some reason I'm totally gripped by these stories. And who doesn't want to read stuff that you already know (fame ruins you) and that makes you sad (fame ruins you). (And why am I not famous yet?) ;)
Anyhow, once more, and then I promise I'll stop, a sad old commercial (because I'm a glutton).
2 comments:
Cintra's book is a damn fine read. It was hugely influential on my own writing style when I read it in...2001? (I think?), in the sense that I saw that it was possible to write like a big old spazz and still have something interesting/substantial to say. My only warning would be to read the pieces in small doses; if you read too many all in one sitting, you kind of start to get a sugar high. You're welcome to borrow my copy!
Oooh. I may take you up on the borrowing. (Your twitter was one of the places I saw the book mentioned this week...) :)
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