Michael Jackson was a part of my childhood. I vividly remember the time I was around 8 or 9, lying in front of my radio listening to his album Dangerous (borrowed from a friend), while closely examining the details on the CD cover (I think CDs just came out at the time, plus the details of the cover intrigued me...). I remember sitting in the basement of my home watching the movie Moonwalker on LD on my home karaoke system.... I remember staying up late, even though I was sleepy, just to watch the television premier of Ghost.....

Sure he was slightly crazy. I suppose from the release of Bad onwards he was already going down the drain. After You Rock My World, I guess that's when things started crashing to the ground....

Yet somehow, when I heard of his death, there was merely a slight feeling of surprise. There was no feeling of grief, or shock (as I felt when I heard Steve Irwin had passed on). I guess, I felt like.... I was throwing out the old smelly pillow I used to hug as a kid, that I dug up from the attic after God Knows how many years. There was nostalgia, there was a certain sadness... but there was no grief.