Michael Jackson -- May 27th, 1994 Location: 5225 Figueroa Mountain Rd.
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John informed me that we were able to go through with the court claim. All day I haven't been feeling like myself because I didn't get any sleep. So I've been a bit moody. But hearing the good news turned my frown right into a smile.
He says that I have the decision to serve her the papers whenever I want.. Perfect, because I know just when to do it.
I sat down at my desk with my tape recorder beside me. Janet and I were finished with our song but while we were working on that, I was gaining inspiration for new songs constantly. We wouldn't start really recording the album until August or September. I still hadn't had a date for the release, but I was hoping to have it released by May of next year.
The sound that has been stuck in my head for the past two days spewed out of my lips and into the tape recorder. I don't know what I was aiming for, but I wanted this song to be something slow. Something kind of eerie. I may have to dig deeper to figure it out.
But I spent a few more minutes humming with my eyes closed until I felt like I've gotten enough. I made sure to turn off the tape recorder until I was ready to start again.
I stood up after putting it into my drawer and left out of my room. Today was a rather slow day. It felt like no one was here with it being so quiet. I grabbed a small snack from the kitchen before heading back to my room.
Ana came in thirty minutes later with a frown on her face. A book was in her hand, letting me know that she had just came from the library. Before I could greet my love, she spoke first in a very irritable tone..
"Why is there always trash on the floor in here, Michael? You know that I can't stand it."
I frowned as well. The floor was clean with the exception of a few pieces of my clothing scattered everywhere.."There's no trash on the floor, baby."
She bent down to pick up everything. "Yes there is. We have a clothes bin for a reason. Do you want them to see your underwear?"
"Well, they have to when they do the laundry," I said sarcastically. "What's wrong with you?"
"Nothing, Michael," she sighed. "Just pick up your clothes often, okay?"
I sighed instead of answering, and leaned my head against the headboard. I was getting a painful headache from the soreness in the middle of my head. "Can you bring me a glass of water?"
Silently she nodded, and after picking up my belongings, she walked out. I held my head furrowing my eyes wondering, as always, why did I have to experience this type of pain. It was excruciating. Unbearable. And I honestly can't take it anymore.
