Michael and Me

This morning I went to get a little take away breakfast at cafe a few blocks away from my apartment.
A large plasma screen TV in the corner was showing Michael Jackson's funeral which was being broadcast live on CNN.
As I waited for my egg white breakfast burrito I watched reporters spouting out facts about Michael's life and career as they waited for the ceremony to begin inside the Staples center (where 20,000 mourners had gathered).
A choir, floating on robes of deep blue, entered the stage underneath a beautiful LED replica of a large stained glass window and sang a gospel song as the shiny silver coffin dripping with deep red roses was slowly wheeled to a spot lighted section in front of and below the performance platforms.

I found myself swept up in the not so new ritual of a celebrity funeral.
The loss was palpable throughout the reverend's speech and even though I have never been a Michael fanatic I have always admired his talent and the impact he had on American culture, particularly the African-American presence in this country and then the world. And I did spend hours in front of the mirrored wall in the front hall of my parents home trying to teach myself the moon walk after seeing it performed live for the first time on the Grammy's. And I suspect that when my older sister, Dianne, introduced me to Off The Wall she unwittingly began my love of dance music.
I am also, through this funeral, experiencing a connection to funerals I have attended in my life, including my sister Dianne's over ten years ago.
Through all the pomp and production runs the undeniable reality of death.
The walk back from the cafe felt a more real than the walk there had felt.

I am at the last official day of this novel writing project and I am terribly behind.
I worked all day yesterday to catch up and my plan was to continue working all day today to complete the first draft.
It turns out June 2009 was not the best month for me in which to complete a novel.
Is there a best month? For me? Probably not. Or, not yet.
Today I will write, but my hopes of reaching the goal are muted by many thoughts and memories and the funeral I am watching on television.

Current word count: 28371