The Beat Goes On

I believe there is such a thing as time travel. It is called 'Art.' It's music. It's film. It's paint. It's sculpture. It's what we do that makes us human. Art is timeless. You're there, at the moment of creation, every time. Have you ever wondered why it is that when you listen to an old song, one that got you viscerally that first time you heard it, it's that first time happening, at some level in your soul, all over again?

Why is it that ten million people wanted to attend Michael Jackson's funeral? I was never a fan, but I always found him fascinating, and that Moon Walk was kinda cool. As a human being, he was a pretty spectacular flop. But at some level, he reached maybe a billion people worldwide, with those moves, those tunes, that beat. And even I, ever a non-fan, can summmon a moment in my past life when it got to me, and even I was sashaying across a floor in a club somewhere (I lived in L.A. back then) moving backwards, trying not to fall on my ass, and having one helluva a blast. I can hear it now, in my head: Jeannie Jeannie. Or maybe it's just Beat It.

MJ is gone now, but the beat goes on. And I couldn't care less about the rest.

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