Open Letter to Lisa Marie Presley

I'm not sure why I've decided to post this, but I'm doing it anyway. I've only written to a celebrity once and it was a letter I wrote to Michael Jackson, when I was 10 years old. He and Lisa Marie were still married then, which gives away my age. It's interesting to think that my second time would be when I felt compelled to go to Lisa's website and find out how I could respond to her after watching her interview with Oprah. Now, I'll share it with you all.

October 24, 2010

Thank you so much for speaking. I just watched the interview with Oprah on youtube (Harpo will surely snatch it down) and I have no other way to thank you or speak to you besides via this pseudo-"social" medium.

Nevertheless, I'm sincerely grateful to you for having the courage to sacrifice yourself for the sake of the nameless millions (i.e. viewers, fans, etc.) We have all become part of your life and in many ways unwillingly so. Unfortunately it's because of our technological capabilities, our social interfaces, the associated press and the media at large that our lives become so affected by people we will never know for the depth of our knowledge is only so many pixels by so many grains by so many bytes. Yet, the minority group "Celebrity" is a dominating force and a tethered and infinite thread woven throughout the tapestry of the larger society that America can only account for as Culture. This is my culture. Tune in or tune out.

Regardless, you are part of me and you were part of him and I was 10 years old when you and Michael married. He represented many many things to me and was unknowingly a safe place to run, an escape from harm, a space to dream in, and all these things I've attached to him, he was part of me and never knew I ever existed. Though the same applies to you, it has always been different: You were the one who entered into his world, the realm of the ordinary, mundane, and universal life experience: waking, sleeping, eating, bathing, breathing, being. You gave to me the best possible Michael I could only hope to know. You made him human. You overlapped the mystery of the Phenomenal Talent we all knew as the King of Pop. Because of you, he seemed tangible and equally as vulnerable as any other living being. You were his humanity.

The "public" may never thank you and many may not even care and surely some will smear you for doing the interview and/or for doing the interview with Oprah. It doesn't matter. What matters is that your speaking matters for Michael; That matters to me. Your speaking matters to you; That matters to me. If you never read this, well, it is the nature of the beast: the division of classes: the famous and the others.

Somehow, I hope this reaches you and I hope that somehow I managed something coherent out of a incredibly reduced version of why it was unavoidable for me to become attached to him and so grateful for you: for being there, for "knowing" him, and most of all for loving him. Thank you Lisa, your words, since the 25th, have been so necessary. Thank you for, once again, shattering the barrier between the "reality" and the "show." There's hope yet for humanity (which the American Public desperately needs to become acquainted with). Thank you.

Sincerely,
R***********
25 years old
Unemployed Graduate, Writer and disenchanted Depressive (we all have our demons)
r***********@gmail.com

Post Script: After Michael died, I listened to his music non-stop, but found it painful to listen to upbeat songs. Instead I began to play tracks from his Invincible album where he reconnected to his beautiful gift with ballads and I listened to "Don't Walk Away" over and over again. Then I bought both of your Albums and listened to them on repeat for days. Then I would just listen to "Now What," "Don't Walk Away," "You Are My Life," "Sinking In," "Gone" in a playlist on repeat. I don't know why I'm saying all this. Someone that works for you will scan this and forward it to an address that collects all the other emails from strangers. I fucking love "Now What." It suspends time and find myself staring at the floor in reflection, then it ends and I breathe again.

I read he had a pet name for you. DId he really call you "girl?" [as a pet name and reference to Wendy and Peter Pan] I believe the ad-libs in "Don't Walk Away" are deliberate. "I won't forget you girl."

[Same day, immediately following the first letter.]
Second Letter:
Post Post Script: He lived across the street

Hello Again,

I meant to mention this in the first letter: In the moment of realizing Michael's rented LA home was across the street from where you spent a great deal of time as a child at your Father's LA home, you said you you weren't even sure if [Michael] was aware.

You would know better than I, but Michael wasn't a coincidence kind-of-guy. My initial thought was, considering he still loved you, there wasn't any coincidence about his living across the street from a place that would remind him of you. A room with a view, a house of nostalgia, a way for him to feel even remotely close or connected to you. Have you since considered the same? Or do you believe it must be coincidental? If it were no slight chance, though it'd be painful for you to consider, it would be one hell of a statement. That at least, for him, every day until his last, he could romanticize the notion that you were near, merely across the street.

When we are wounded, a means to comfort ourselves is always sought, and usually found in the most unlikely ways.

Take care Lisa.
Here's hoping my messages reach you.
Cheers,
r.
(The woman that wrote you quite a lengthy "thank you" letter.)