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    Michael Jackson, The Diary of a Fan
    Michael Jackson, The Diary of a Fan
    Michael Jackson, The Diary of a Fan
    Ebook100 pages7 hours

    Michael Jackson, The Diary of a Fan

    By Onésimo Colavidas and Franck Vidiella

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    About this ebook

    «On june 25th of 2009, a fan of Michael Jackson learns of the death of his idol, live on CNN. The shock is appalling. Two weeks later, despite the deep sadness that tortures him, he decides to fly to London where a commemoration is going to be held by the English fan-club, the day Michael was supposed to make his long-waited come-back. He hopes this event can be the first step in the mourning process, that will permit him to begin a new life without MJ. Unfortunately, the London experience becomes a nightmare : the pain and the emotions are too intense. Now, he will have to overcome a long and exhausting depressive phase, that will force him to travel around the world in the hope of overcoming his sorrow. Wherever he goes, from London to Tokyo, Moscow to Bilbao, he is still possessed by the memory of Michael...»
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherFV Éditions
    Release dateSep 8, 2015
    ISBN9782366680232
    Michael Jackson, The Diary of a Fan

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      Book preview

      Michael Jackson, The Diary of a Fan - Onésimo Colavidas

      page

      Copyright

      Copyright © 2011 by FV Éditions

      Illustrations © Onésimo Colavidas

      Pictures © Franck Vidiella

      January 2012 - 2nd Edition¹

      ISBN 978-2-36668-023-2

      All Rights Reserved

      MICHAEL JACKSON

      PROLOGUE

      June 25th, 2009. Soon 6.00 p.m. Tonight, I have to go to work. A late meeting. I don’t feel like it. I’m already late. Taking my Labrador out for a walk in the small square in front of the house, I’m lost in my thoughts. I’m thinking of the approaching concert by Michael. Day after day, hour after hour, minute after minute, the countdown has begun. It makes me euphoric. It reawakens in me the fanaticism for Michael which has been lying dormant for a few years. For a long time I hadn’t felt this lump in my throat, this stress peculiarly enjoyable caused by the mere prospect of seeing again my idol on the stage. I have already seen him three times in my life –in Montpellier, Toulouse and Lyon –and I had promised to myself that if the opportunity arose again, I would not miss it for anything else in the world. I have been a fan since I was 10 years old, and I’m going to be face to face with him. I’m lucky and I own two tickets for This is It at The O2 Arena in London. One for the first date located in the terraces opposed to the scene; the other for the end of the month of July in the VIP lounge, only a few meters far from him. These tickets have not been easy to get. I had to fight, show good will as if my life depended on it. The server of Ticketmaster has, however, almost killed me .I nearly had a heart attack as I was forced to wait for more than an hour, staring at my screen while hoping that the waiting message caused by the massive congestion of the system disappears at last and eventually offers me to choose my seats. Fortunately for me, it did it; twice.

      Tonight I’m working; I’ll be able to discuss about it with my colleagues, just to make them jealous. The opportunities are rare for me to read their envy on their faces ,they are the ones who find me so strange, as strange as Michael was in the eyes of the press and of some sort of people who paradoxically think their conformity makes them superior to the others. It’s well-known, difference is frightening. As I grew up with Michael as a model, it’s to my mind a quality few people have the privilege to invoke. He, undoubtedly, was one of them.

      My dog hasn’t finished yet. It’s sniffing, going around, marking its territory with a few drops of urine but it doesn’t seem determined on the spot where to spill. It seems to do it on purpose. Whenever I’m in a hurry, it takes its time. I’m here, eagerly waiting for it to do its business, thinking that once back home probably late in the evening, I’ll have to surf the Web to look for a hotel for my second concert in the English capital. I already make the list of all the sites to visit in my head.

      11. p.m.

      At last I’m at home. I turn my computer on, launch Internet Explorer and start to search a good idea. Great, in just a few clicks, I discover the bargain. I find a tour operator who proposes special discounts on several luxury hotels. One of them is perfectly situated in the center and close to the underground line leading to the concert hall; this is perfect, I’ll take the opportunity to spend the week in London. Therefore I fill in the booking form and take out my credit card.

      11.10 p.m.

      My cell phone starts to ring. It’s surprising. I don’t usually receive calls so late. It’s my neighbor. He knows about the concerts by Michael. I must absolutely watch CNN! The American channel talks about Michael. He would have been driven to hospital after a heart attack. Curious, I switch my TV on, zap on the appropriate channel and observe with amazement the banner at the bottom of the screen which reads Breaking News in white on a red background. It means in principle the news item is serious. For all that, I’m not worried. I am so used to hearing wrong sensational reports that a piece of information about my idol’s life- threatening status does not seem believable to me. They have already done it so often. I carefully listen to the comment of the special correspondent sent by the channel down the hospital of UCLA University in Los Angeles and as always I look for contradictions in his statements. He’s probably about to pronounce words which may imply that it’s a mistake, one more, or that eventually Michael only suffers from a minor affection, a temporary fatigue due to the rehearsals for the concerts taking place these days at Staples Center. The journalists, craving for sensationalism and cheap scoops, are too often inclined to magnify reality.

      11.15 p.m.

      The tone used by the news analysts is increasingly serious. Michael would be in a coma; I still don’t believe it and, between two pictures, I go on having a glance at my hotel validation I haven’t confirmed yet. It’s obviously a mistake by the journalists. The news about Michael these last few days were very good and the rehearsals seemed to take place wonderfully enabling me to imagine the best for the run of the future shows. Michael, for sure, is going to break all records. He’s going to make his come-back and put a stop to all the rumors about the King of Pop’s alleged decline.

      11.17 p.m.

      The anchorman announces that Michael would be deceased. His main source comes from TMZ,a tabloid I’ve never heard about, making the news even less believable. It’s a joke. A very bad joke. Michael is probably going to the window of one of the hospital rooms to wave at his fans, suggesting that everything is OK, that the journalists and the gutter press are liars. And anyway, it is quite simply not possible, that wouldn’t be fair. Michael can’t die. To my mind he is immortal. He who has gone through so many hardships, who remained strong, faced with the terrible accusations he was subjected to twice; he, the King of Pop, who, at his insurers’ request, had just undergone medical exams the results of which were positive, can’t leave his fans just two weeks before his great come-back on the stage. It is unthinkable, unimaginable, and inconceivable.

      I go on listening carefully to what he is saying, hoping deep in my heart that a denial is announced at last. Minutes are slowly ticking by, my watch is becoming heavy, and seconds are weighing down. Besides it looks as if the hand on the dial of the clock had stopped, as if time had been suspended while elapsing to laugh at me, to increase my nervousness; that damned denial is still not issued; I am in a state of stress. My anxiety reaches a new high. My heart rate quickens, skips a beat; I try to catch my breath and my stomach tightens. As for the journalists, they still talk about a death which isn’t officially confirmed.

      I look down on the computer and I decide to connect to MjFrance, the French reference community site of Michael Jackson’s fans. Maybe I’ll find reassuring information. But it’s nothing of the sort. The fans are incredibly torn between amazement and sadness, some of them waiting for a happy ending. Others, however, already issue farewell words on the forum. Damn it, it hurts! It hurts very much! But hope, a glimmer of hope, remains. They are going to announce that this macabre

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