There’s been a lot of talk and interest in Post Secret, the website, the meme and the book. The idea is that people can anonymously confess to deeply held secrets by writing them on a postcard or submitting it online. The book is a collection of the secrets. Some are incredibly thought-provoking. A lot are heart-wrenchingley sad. Others are perverted. There’s even a promotional video
I wonder how many are fake secrets - like the one that says “Everyone who knew me before 9/11 believes I’m dead.” I mean, I can imagine a lot more people who would make that up than would actually live it. But it still gets you.
Maybe this phenomenon will usher in a new era of honesty, tolerance and open-mindedness. Maybe it will be the downfall of society. Who can tell?
So, you may be wondering why I’m bringing up secrets. Well, it’s time I did my own confessing.
Due to the nature of my confession, I’m putting it in the extended entry, below. Only read it if you have the time and inclination to stomach the horrific. Don’t say you weren’t warned.
Ok, I guess it’s time to confess. Why are things so hard to type sometimes? I mean, I just want to blurt it out, but instead, I’m wasting time describing how it feels to ease into confessing a deep dark secret. What if I just redirected your attention? Wouldn’t that be easier?
ARGH
Alright, I’m ready now.
I have an unhealthy fascination with Michael Jackson’s music.
There, I said it. Whew, I feel a lot better now.Let me clarify. It’s not just the music, but the sounds he makes. And I’m not really talking about the ”Uh!” and “Eckch” and “Mmmmph” sounds he interjects between every 4th syllable, I mean the choreographic architecture of aural bliss. Come with my on my journey to my favorite Michael Jackson sounds.Please don’t make fun of me. And LEAVE MICHAEL ALONE!











