My Life with George Michael

Finding out George Michael died ruined my Christmas.  He meant so much to me,  even when he was seemingly not there and washed up. For me,  no one represented the human element behind the superstar more than George did.  He was the glamorous version of the everyman’s pop star. And he was talented. He spoke of life and victory and pain. And it all sounded so natural that I stopped being afraid to be true to myself. He represented all walks of life. All sexes. All ages. He was an aspiration for little girls and boys. Sometimes for the same reason. “George Michaal makes me feel secure in wanting to be a diva ” one gay young man said in a sociology class once. ” I love him so much because I know I’ll never think about him in a sexual way but rather in an intellectual,  heartwarming manner,” a young heterosexual lady said. Yes, he made our brains work out of the box because of his personal life.  

For me, George was there in almost all the important personal events of my adult life. And it was all through his music. He could really carry a tune. And he could speak to my heart when need be and just plain give me a happy jolt out of the blue. I loved the sensuality behind most of his songs in his early solo days. He was a hipper and more mature version of Morrissey. While Morrissey whined his way into my innermost emotions,  George made sure to reassure me that these emotions were out there in the open. While Morrissey made me understand I wasn’t a weirdo, George made it clear that he was personally working on the issue. They worked in tandem,  Steven Morrissey and George Michael.  And they’re both one of a kind. 

I remember taking a break from one night to dance to Careless Whisper,  a tune that lived on years later. It was something I had kept as my slow dance song.  The girls liked it and thought it made me sensitive. Thanks again George,  for making sure the night got started right. And thanks for the many ways that Faith can be sung at a karaoke party. I’m still working on my favourite song,  Cowboys and Angels. This is one of my all – time classics George. And remember,  you made an album that made a grown man cry. It made me cry, George. Please excuse my lack of creativity, but I listened without prejudice.Over and over again. It especially went well on a sensitive night with a lovely young lady during a ski weekend that I chose to play the album to instead of take advantage of. 

And thanks for the hope of Praying For Time . 

I don’t know how many peope’s lives this album saved, but it influenced me in such a positive way. It made me accept others and myself. It gave me a chance to write my mind. It made me a political candidate. A voice for the disenfranchised. A facilitator. Mostly, it made me capable of helping others empower themselves. George,  did you know how your barren landscape of an album in a Mad Max setting represents the daily lives of the powerless? Did you know how they realize they too can be helped and healed from this wasteland? You must know now, looking down upon us, in your epiphany, how important you were in so many people’s need for self  – expression. You’re up there with the best. 

Your endless influence goes beyond sexual expression and identity. It’s about people never losing hope. It’s sort of like the rain before the sun. That never – ending lament of breaking our backs for freedom coming true. That labyrinth having no tumult when we manage to found our way out of it. Sort of our own private Eden — and I’m guessing you’d believe in those things. 

Finally, thank you for empowering me through your music. True heartfelt lyrics and a remarkable voice. Time to go watch your Wembley concert. 


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