ROWAN: I felt as if I was none of my business to be a third party in the exchange anymore, so I discreetly backed away, after giving a smug but cheery smile to Rod. If I can be upfront with you all, it was obvious that there was a bit of tension and enmity within Michael's inner circle. In some respects, producers, sound engineers, stage and film management personal, choreographers, custome designers, vocal critics/instructors and directors were all indirectly competing for a spot-on Michael's A-team. There weren't fist fights, or heated verbal exchanges but there was the common knowledge that some of us were more functional, needed, proficient, and expert then others, and would have an almost guaranteed chance at working alongside Michael for the remainder of his solo career, others weren't simply cut out to work for a bigger-then-Hollywood-itself-star. I think Rod was feeling the butt end of being kindly replaced by Quincey who was putting pressure on Michael to compose his own music, which I'm sure he wanted to do. I don't think too positively of Quincey, it feels if his hands are everywhere, over everything and anything but Michael needs a grounded critic to expand his horizons, so if its Quincey its Quincey. Quincey has a good ear and is a visionary, but I sense that at some point he'll rub Michael the wrong way like Joseph did -trying to contain light is almost impossible.
I looked around the garage, there were so many new faces - something I appreciate about Michael and his crew, sameness and familiarity are like Jello and pudding to them, they only offer so much difference texture, flavor, experience and taste. Michael sees the potential and art in always changing, experimenting and trying new perspectives.
From the angle I have, overseeing, the dancers float around the space, chitter chatting, and mingling with each other, it feels as if I'm watching a family reunion; everyone knows each other and at the same time no one does, new and novel is being passed around from ear to ear, and yet everyone is familiar with each other.
Right then, my stomach growled, and I made my way towards the snack bar in between of the pillars in the train station. I had eaten breakfast around 445am or 515am, I was in a hurry out the door to catch the bus to get on site before 800am. Thank God I made, it because I spent thirty minutes looking for my bus ticket, that was stapled onto my pant leg before some reason...I fingered a banana. I had recently weaned myself off of my year- long keto diet - I had a couple pounds from my last breakup to lose - and now every food was on the menu. but then turned my eyes to the basket of chocolate which I couldn't resist, which was such an opportune move, because I ran right into my arch nemesis, Jennifer!
DIRECTOR: "Can I have a word with you and Myla please?"
Director took advantage of our little run-in, appearing out of the parted sea, her firmly put a hand on our finely chiseled shoulders to keep us from scad-dadling away like hermit crabs.
ROWAN: I hadn't noticed Myla had been here the entire time, there wasn't much need for a guitarist for this song, but Michael had been hinting at a project to follow up BAD, and apparently, He was going to need a guitarist or two to bring it to life. He was in between, "**It Doesn't Matter", "**We're All the Same" or "Black or White" for the name of it- I personally liked the first title it felt more ambiguous and profound and less elementary like, "Black or White". I mean come on! "Black or White" is like, "The Wheels on the Bus" obviously the nursey rhyme is about wheels on a bus. I feel as if, "Black or White" gives away the gist of the song which from the sound of the title is probably about equality and love.
The one quality about Michael, that I don't appreciate is his need to dumb down and sugarcoat everything. For instance, he includes little if any profanity in his lyrics which I feel, in my mind at least, doesn't distinguish him much from his Jacksons goody-two-shoes image. This BAD album that he's cutting is a lousy attempt at transitioning from his mommy-hold-my-hand-image to i'm-a-baddie-and-i'll-steal-your-girl persona. Saying I'm bad, over and over again, doesn't have much of that macho effect as he thinks it does.
If he's as into his solo career and producing a remarkable, all-inspiring and sensational name for himself then he needs, to rip off the band-aid of "family-friendly", "sensible and suitable" and go all out! I think he's absolutely pathetic in regard to watering down racism. Just say it how it is Michael, never will there be a day on this planet, when everyone holds hands and sings Kumbaya, and kisses each other without someone trying to eliminate someone. We're not all going to be equal ever, stop trying to create a fantasy.
DIRECTOR: "Look, this is a business. We're here, we're all here, to get in and get out, make money, maybe a little name for ourselves, a decent apartment in Hollywood and that's it. I've been overhearing from the boys [He's referring to Rod and **Avion], about a little feud going on between you two and I'm just here to say, whatever is going on needs to dial down, the last thing I need before this album breaks the charts, is a little birdie in my ears yapping on and on about how you two can't get along. Go on a play date or something, you two are animals, work it out."
ROWAN: He kept going on and on, and somehow made the whole pep talk about himself and how mentally insane he felt under all the pressure of editing and dealing with the bum-fumbling, backyard-talent-show-level dancers and a lily-livered Michael. He always made everything about himself, although I'm almost confident, that Michael out of all of us, was suffocating under outfit changes and adjustments, crew members quitting or demanding higher pay, video camera breaking, and film being lost. Director couldn't even touch his toes or clap his hands if his life depended on it. Jennifer's face looked cold as stone, as he gripped both of our arms and made us face each other.
I couldn't stand Myla.
Close your eyes for a minute and imagine that one obnoxious teacher's pet but then her all grown up and heads over heels in love with Michael Jackson, and it's not one sided. Michael and her, are like two peas in a pod, which makes my blood boil. He always bounces every and anything off her, "Myla, what do you think", "What's you're feeling on this?". Get a room already!!! Even down to the stupid metal buckles of his sleeves, IT ALL REVLOVES AROUND HER. Her out of all the options that he had, from princesses to Diana Ross, please! She looks like a complete homebody, or one of those nobodies you'd randomly pick for a social experiment or low budget cereal commercial
Everything about her was so modest, and magnetic, dandy and dreamy, prim and proper, pretty and put-together, calm and collected, regal and radiant, spunky and sassy, feminine and foxy - the woman of your fantasies, and she was always top pick for whatever project Michael worked on!
I had for the last two weeks, like an FBI agent, tried to uncover some dirt on her. Twice I caught her in the office, on the phone with some guy named "Dave the plumber", which is a pretty smart move, for covering a secret love affair. I couldn't wait to spout this to Director, he was so adamant about keeping love and lust from the office and studio, AND Michael SINGLE AND CHASTE that he had singlehandedly fired three newbies last week over their girlish squeals and chatter about a triple date night with their pathetic girlfriends from the Queens and he threatened to do it again, but before I could even open my mouth to say a word, Myla....