When you lose someone you love, the deaths you hear about in the lives of friends, and even celebrities, take on greater weight. The death of Michael Jackson was a shock, not only because he is so young, and was so talented, but as long as he was still alive, we could all hope that one day he'd snap out of whatever funk he's been in for years, and come back turning out hit songs once more.
I am having a graduation party this weekend. I had a dream that as a surprise, Mike was going to have my dad come to the party. Actually, it was a thought I had during my lucid, waking hours, but it is so nonsensical I have to tell you I dreamt it.
These things happen when someone dies. Your mind keeps playing tricks on you. You think dead relatives can be put on a guest list.
The other thing that happens when people you love die is that things that should theoretically be really important, lose some of their weight. Like my graduation. Getting a master's is no small feat, and I'm proud of myself, but it feels hollow in a way. Like I'd give up everything I own to see my dad again, or to make some kind of a dent in world peace, or whatever.
Mike told me that Kierkegaard said (something like) when a society begins to become obsessed with longevity as a measure of quality of life, that society is in decline. Worrying about keeping yourself alive for a long time is a selfish, hedonistic pursuit. I think in the US, we've taken this to an extreme, not only worrying about our life spans, but looking like we're 21 forever. It's a sign of how much luxury we have, really.
I don't know if I agree with the supposed-Kierkegaard statement completely, but I can see how it makes a whole lot of sense when we think about people who have died, yet their impact has been huge. How many years of life is irrelevant. Like my father. That man was incredible. I recently was sent footage of him dancing on the Ed Sullivan Show. Yes, that Ed Sullivan show.
Which brings me, in a very roundabout way, to dancing, and music, and the things in life that make it worth living. On tv and the internet today all you see is images of people blasting MJ and dancing in the streets. Why the don't we do that all the time? Why can't we all just put on some music and live our lives and love each other and all that? Yes, I know this is the very question man has tried to answer since the dawn of time, but it can't hurt to ask again.
Last night, Mike and I put on Pandora, added Michael into the mix and were dancing our asses off. I started to feel down and Mike said, doing his best moonwalk, "Michael didn't write his music to get depressed to!"
No. He wrote it to dance. Let's all turn up our radios, and keep them on. I'm a musician, and I think at some point I was inspired by music's ability to uplift, heal, celebrate, and make you forget all the horrible shit going on in the world. I've lost some of that enthusiasm, but last night it came back. Why do we turn to music in times of trouble? Because it's better to sing than to bicker. It's better to dance than to sulk. It's better to celebrate - because we are alive a short time, no matter how you measure it, and if I take Kierkegaard to heart, I will make sure my days are filled with stuff that matters today, because tomorrow may never come.
