i don’t watch tv at home. maybe that’s crazy, but i just can’t have it anymore. i wind up addicted to the worst kind of shows. i mean, Daisy of Love? thank god i don’t have tv because i would watch the shit out of that kind of garbage. ugh the shame i would feel.
so instead, i end up toiling away hours on facebook and twitter. a much healthier preoccupation OBVIOUSLY.
actually, it was about michael jackson. so even though i don’t have tv, i often wander over to my next door neighbor’s place and can’t help but absorb some filth over there because her tv is on TWENTY FOUR SEVEN.
so serious i have to use all caps.
and lately, i’ve gotten sucked into watching coverage on MJ, because…who wouldn’t? it’s getting so ugly, really…the rumors, all the images they flash of him, the freaking dermatologist on larry king — how much do you think he got paid for that interview? that’s what i wanna know.
today i actually felt physically ill after catching a portion of that interview. all these people scrutinizing, trying to figure it all out, trying to find the ugliest, darkest, nastiest side to it all.
poor michael. as if he hasn’t had the most bizarre life experience already, with the fame, abuse, illness, the skin disease, the body dysmorphic disorder. now in death he’s still under a microscope…and more ruthlessly exploited than before.
i truly hope that he has found peace, and that he has already escaped far far away from this place and all our disgustingly shallow human obsessions.