There will never be an icon like Michael Jackson. He was in class all by himself crossing barriers, introducing visual art to accompany his music, a master entertainer who had a world following of people who loved him and will move forward to promote his generous image and legacy as one of the most magnificent musical artists of all time.

Lj

Come join us at my forum and make some new terrific friends. If you are a fan of Michael Jackson its a hot spot to visit.

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We add updates and new material daily, along with some awesome Michael Jackson fan fiction. Newest addition to the forum is a copy of the Bad concert. Grab a cup of coffee or a glass of wine and take a seat in our lounge, kick back and watch.

A sample of my writing:


DISCLAIMER - This story is fiction; however, it does contain and reference true events.

Photos and official publications, including music and lyrics are under copyright and belong to individual owners of those materials. The rest and bulk of the story is mine. This story is meant for entertainment purposes only and I make no profit from it.

WARNING: ADULT LANGUAGE, ADULT CONTENT, ROMANCE AND EROTICA - RATING R

Prelude Part 1 (teaser)

June 25th, 2009

So much to do and never enough time to get it all finished. I'm running the vacuum cleaner trying hard to swallow up the weeks of dirt and dust in and on it. I'm away so much, not home as much as I want at times or need to be but hey what can I do? My job takes me out on the road for sometimes only days but most of the time I may be gone for months, gaining only a short weekend break, if I am lucky.

I switch off the vacuum and the phone is ringing so I dart across the room hoping to catch the call before whoever is on the other side of the line gives up.

"Hello," I answer nearly out of breath, cradling the phone against my ear and chin.

"Do you have the TV on?" my close friend Kenny asks.

"No, I'm busy cleaning."

"Well, then stop everything you're doing and I mean stop, turn on your TV and take a seat. Tune into Fox News."

"Why? What's going on? Why the drama Kenny, what is it?"

"Just do exactly as I say." Click

Oh dear God, please don't let this be another 9/11 type terrorist attack. My heart starts racing as I grab the remote and flop down onto the sofa. Click

The screen illuminates and there is a news flash. The crawl is scrolling at the bottom and I can't read it fast enough to get any idea of what the hell is happening.

"Breaking news…we have just learned that Michael Jackson has been rushed to the hospital. He was supposedly found unconscious and not breathing at the Holmby Hills Estate where he has been currently residing. Reports are that he is in cardiac arrest and it doesn't look good."

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Serious Effect...

February 19, 1992, (beginning preparation for "The Dangerous Tour")

I stood watching from the area in a place, as he called it "the wings" which is the side of the stage where one can really see everything on stage, yet still remain hidden. I had come to learn Michael did that all of the time, especially in his early years, watching many of the great performers he admired, studying their every move. While his older brothers were off during a "break" or many evenings doing something else, Michael stayed behind watching in fascination others perform, he became a living sponge absorbing every little detail of what he saw.

For three days straight, often running late into the night, I simply watched and observed one of the greatest talents the world would ever know. His dancing was solely unique and his own, using his body, making it move in ways so many others would try to mimic but never could. He was graceful and limber like a ballet dancer, coupling those movements with foot-steps of a supremely trained tap and jazz performer as an underscore to all of the basics that he built upon, creating the most complex and creative dance moves anyone could ever attempt much less pull off. He was a master of rhythm in movement, lyrics and all music itself.

It seemed Michael could literally defy gravity; one only need go back and watch the Smooth Criminal video.


The man could spin around endlessly and stop short on a dime. The way he moved his hips and would use his hand to slink over the length of his body pausing at his crotch, he was the first man to do something so provocative, and it would then be one of his signature and trademark moves. I can't count how many rappers I have worked with "along with their own, let's get jiggy mentality," grabbing their crotch. It had become the norm and set standard, yet they all failed to a certain degree because no one could work that move better than Michael himself.

I, along with many, I suppose, wished we could have had the chance to use our own hand, just once, in place of Michael's; to run the length over the front of his body, stopping at that one certain spot. As they say, curiosity kills the cat and to witness that move in person, I died a thousand deaths.

One time while dancing I had that chance and I took it. You can't even imagine the awkwardness that ensued but I can say it took us each to a new level together both as dancers, as a man and a woman together exploring the unknown and would begin and open the door to take us further in our relationship.

It was erotic and sexual to an extent, but in some ways really not. We always engaged as dancers, above all, first and foremost, and it was this connection that was the very foundation to where everything began and thus how he and I grew closer in so many ways.

I wasn't so brash as to make the first move. Michael had slinked his way very cleverly, through dance, finding little ways to explore my body. I was naturally curious to do the same.

I watched with fascination as his feet moved in a flurry of steps, at times so fast, it would propel him across the entire stage. The lithe, slick moves, the military and robot dance and of course that infamous "moon-walk," that he invented and was all his own. Well, he made history and watching Michael do that dance step alone always made me gasp as if I were watching him do it for the very first time whenever I saw him do it.

He would do it over and over again in the months ahead as I trained with him; it always gripped me and left me in awe. He must have done that infamous moon-walk, hundreds of times while in rehearsal and during a show but I could never see it enough. He was amazing to watch, live and in person.

I am a dancer myself, having studied for as long as I can remember. I studied all through out my childhood. I had developed an interest, it was obvious I took to it early on and did very well. My mother took exception to my talent and nurtured it in every way, always positive with loads of appreciation and encouragement.

I have extensive training in ballet; jazz, tap, flamenco, traditional dance, (including the waltz, meringue, salsa and mambo, just to name a few.) I also trained in scat dancing, (hyper-fast lyrics, coupled with moves that demand the same and could leave one totally out of breath and exhausted) aerobic/gymnastic dance and hip-hop.

I had grown up in Harlem, which in living there that is all we did was dance. During my years in training I worked hard, was tested and pushed to my very limits. It was always competitive. If one worked hard enough, had a love for dance itself and the drive, then you never stopped, it was just a way of life from the moment you woke up until bedtime and it didn't stop at the end of my lessons for the day. Once home, it was a passion not only for me but so many others in my neighborhood. Dancing itself was a lifestyle, especially on the streets.

Music and dance has no boundaries, male verses female or regarding race, where I lived and grew up. We lived it each and every day to where, a single one grew into a few, that few would become a group and the group would unite right back into one.

Today, I work relentlessly with back-up dancers while on tour, on an individual basis to help them polish up on a move until it is perfected. I am on the road non-stop with the best in the industry and have done so for nearly 8 years. It is my profession and I am well known and respected. After all, I spent most of my life doing it; I've always worked hard, still do, climbed far and earned my rank.

In time I would spend many hours in practice with Michael himself, he showing me what he wanted and expected his back-up dancers to do. I already studied many of his moves in the past on my own, but I had to really learn every detail, every one of his moves and most important was working in sync because the timing had to be perfect. Michael was a true perfectionist. Those were nearly the first words he uttered before we really ever started. It was that perfection that made him the ultimate star he would and in fact did become.

Perfect and perfection itself…that was the first personal detail I had learned about Michael. It was very important to him in relation to his music. Not only did he strive for it, but in fact, he was the epitome of true perfection himself in spite of the countless flaws everyone else, especially the media and public concentrated and focused on.

The "wings" had become my favorite spot to be and I can understand why Michael would lurk around in the shadows to watch others way back in the days of his childhood. As I watched and studied him, I was constantly amazed and mesmerized, my eyes glued to his every move, especially his feet. I know all of his fans always admired that about him but in working so close, I had to step outside of myself and what I knew. I had the chance to see all of the detail, everything very few would ever see.

In those first 3 days he would be up on stage dancing and then suddenly stop and go still, a typical move he would repeat and display in practice and live in concert. He loved to add a bit of drama and he liked to tease.



He was the consummate showman.

Yet, being there to witness that deliberate pause was different, in fact nearly impossible to explain. He would cue the music to immediately stop, nothing unusual but setting up certain unease. I had quietly found my place to watch and not be a distraction but he would stand still in that pose and it left everyone momentarily unsettled. I would learn it was not only part of the drama, him teasing, but it would give him a moment to pause, settle, catch his breath and regroup. Again, this was different for me to witness leaving me wondering if at times there might be something more to it and in my case, there was.

Dancing takes an incredible amount of stamina. It is not only physically exhausting but in Michael's case he always gave it "his all." It pushed him to staggering heights and limits physically and mentally.

Those first three days, he seemed to always sense my presence when I was there. My being there changed the current in the air and he needed to absorb that change before he would proceed, then he would start up again almost seeming even more empowered.

He wouldn't look back over at me but he knew I was there. He was extremely precise and aware of everything going on around him at all times.

One time on that third day he stopped, looked over his shoulder, seeing me in the shadows and my face lit up with the biggest smile. He quickly looked away and I watched his body tense. He stopped everything, stood still for a long while and finally tried to shake it out but I had ruined the moment. He walked off the stage and everyone there was told to call it "quits." He was done. I was left stunned. He saw me, I smiled and it was as if I apparently snuffed out a candle, the flame had been smothered and died.

I felt sick to my stomach. What did I do to cause him so much discomfort? Everything shut down, the lights went dim and everyone was told to go home. Michael never shut down early but on this night he did and it was because of me. Tears stung my eyes and I wanted to go to him and ask what I had done wrong but I knew not to seek him out much less approach him. His handlers would have tossed me out in a heartbeat.

When everyone was gone, I walked onto the stage to the microphone stand, my fingers tracing over the mic itself where his hand had been not long ago. I desperately wanted a small part of him at that moment because I feared when I left the building I would be getting a call later that night telling me not to come back.

I stood there looking out over the huge arena just as he had and let the tears fall. Finally, I pulled myself together and left with an ache and sadness I had never known. I had my chance to witness a phenomenon and now it would be over. I would have my 3 days of memories but I wanted so much more. I wanted to get more than a glimpse of Michael Jackson. I wanted so much to dance with him. I wanted to learn what made him tick and it nearly killed me to know I had a got so close and I blew it. I had an opportunity and was so lucky, one of the very few to work with him and now my dream had been snatched away.

What I didn't know at the time was that Michael had returned to the "left wing" and there in the darkness, where he could hide so well, he stood there watching me.

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My favorite bands are: Adore MJ (he's in a league of his own), Nickelback, Theory of a Deadman, Thornley, Audioslave/Chris Cornell, Alterbridge, U2, Three Days Grace to name a few. So many more to name...

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