"I Told You I Was Trouble"

Amy Winehouse is dead, have you heard? Girl was a mess, it’s true, but does that make her death any less terrible, because it was avoidable? Or was it avoidable at all? She had a disease and the treatment didn’t work. Or at least speculation says the treatment didn’t work. It has not been officially reported how she died and whether or not it was due to recent drug use. Videos from her recent concert in Belgrade would argue that it did. Whatever the case, it is truly sad that her incredible talent has been seriously overshadowed by her demons, a la Michael Jackson. 

I think we are all aware of the fact that addiction is a disease. Amy Winehouse was a hard and fast addict. From crack to ketamine, she didn’t dabble in drugs, she showered in them. She was so obviously on a dark path to destruction since way before Back to Black was released. We all watched this woman deteriorate before our eyes. She was Marilyn Monroe, Janis Joplin, Jimi Hendrix...all over again. In a twisted way, we were entertained by it.  

Do we glorify the drug-fueled deaths of famous musicians/artists/actors? In a way, yes.  Is it entertaining? Of course. Is it perverse? Absolutely. 

Why is this particular form of human suffering so eye-catching? I believe it’s because there is a type of excitement, rebelliousness to addiction that those who have never experienced wonder about, maybe even want a taste of. Yet those who have truly dealt with these demons can assure you, that romantic feeling is no longer present when you’re living in the throes of addiction.

There is a romanticism surrounding drug use and even rehab. I have often wondered why shows like “Intervention” get so much viewership, myself included. Is it because we can all connect to that out-of-control feeling in one way or another? Do we all in some subconscious way covet the ability to let everything go and literally have no other concern in your life other than where your next hit will come from? Do we all in some way desire to see just how far our friends and family would go to bring us back from the depths of our suffering? Shows like “Intervention” and “Celebrity Rehab” show the dark side of addiction, sure, but they also promote the idea that when you’re ready (you hit your ‘rock bottom’) you get a shiny rehab center in Palm Springs where you can rehab in luxury, all paid for by your friends at A&E. I don’t think we are naive enough to believe this to be true, or even effective. 

As an “artist”....(I feel pretentious even using that term but I suppose it applies to anyone who creates art, yes?) I feel that there is a certain romanticism constantly applied both consciously and subconsciously to the struggle of an artist. It’s almost expected that you have some kind of demon on your back. Van Gogh drank himself to death with absinthe, HST put a bullet in his brain, Salinger couldn’t bear to face a world he detested, McQueen couldn’t take it anymore. Pain makes great art, it’s absolutely true, but are the two mutually exclusive? It would seem for some people they are, for many of the most famous artists who have dealt with these issues, they are. But, do we glorify their work because of their struggle? Or is it always the case that their work is worth glorification?

I can’t speak too much on Amy Winehouse except that I do believe she reopened a genre and allowed a much easier passage for female soulful artists like Adele. She wasn’t gorgeous, she didn’t have her shit together and she didn’t pretend to, but damn, the girl could write and sing. And it wasn’t that Glenda-the good witch, high pitched, singing to the birds shit. It was all over the place, but controlled, powerful, heartfelt, pure. Pure in the sense that she sang from her heart, it wasn’t cleaned up or smoothed out.  

The question is, is this always the case? Would Kurt Cobain have held our attention for so long if his mind didn’t get the better of him? Would we still care what Elvis had to say at 76 years old? Would anyone care about Marilyn Monroe once her figure faded? Even Bradley Nowell, would Sublime just be some band seen as an anachronism rather than the voice of a twisted 90’s counterculture? We can all argue these points to death but we’ll never truly know, all we will know is that their deaths certainly helped solidify their place in the history of pop culture. 

 Let’s be honest, the media takes advantage of it’s sweethearts and it is no place for someone who isn’t mentally stable. Though you can’t really blame “the media” too much, they are responding to the demand. In the same way we can’t get angry for recurring seasons of Jersey Shore because apparently there are a whole lot of people in the world who watch it (wtf?), we can’t completely blame the media for exploiting these troubled stars. We bought the magazines, we watched the videos, we saw the downfall happen before our eyes. 

We see the manipulation of the media all the time, Britney Spears is a prime example. In what other circumstance would we feel as though we have a right to be front row to someone’s mental breakdown? The media tells us, “no, it’s ok, you can watch, these people sold their souls to you”. 

The artists who truly succeed seem to be the ones who know who they are and refuse to compromise their values. They aren’t swayed by distractions because they’re not in it for the fame or fortune, they’re there for their art. They keep their private lives to themselves and stay as far away from the media as possible. They’re also the ones who are lucky enough to not battle with addiction or if they do, they received help quickly. Lots of money, lots of access, and groups of people seemingly encouraging your behavior are a deadly combination for an addict. Amy definitely had the odds stacked against her. 

It’s almost uncomfortable to listen to her music. To get so much out of something that came from so much pain is a strange thing but truthfully, the basis for a lot of amazing art, writing and music. It really is too bad the no one around her was able to guide her through her struggles. It seems selfish to say she was cut short in her musical career (think of what she might have produced if she pulled herself together!), when really, she was cut short in her life. And the 27 Club grows. 

If you’re interested, check out Russell Brand’s eulogy, I thought it was quite eloquent. 

"Star Gazed"

I am pseudo participating in Annex Comics 30 Day Sketch Challenge. Basically, if the prompt inspires me to write something, I'll do so; if it inspires me to draw something, I'll do so...albeit awfully. Anyway, if I like what I wrote I'll post it on here just because it's not really appropriate to post it on the Event Wall, and it gives me a reason to bring the piece to some sort of completion. Though, I believe that "no piece is ever truly finished, only abandoned". So, read if you'd like.

Day 2:

Star Gazed

You have to wonder 

if your distance is sound.

Every time you walk

silently, 

up that hill.

Eyes marveling,

lying flat,

alone,

staring down God.

If he’s game,

If he’s out there.

You have to wonder

if it’s safe to dwell here;

with your mind wrapped up in wonders,

feeling the Earth shrink

beneath you.

You have to wonder

if it’s wise 

to let yourself

feel so insignificant;

with insurmountable, 

unknowable energies

playing games with 

feeble lives. 

What reason is there to rise?

Better to be devoured.

Better to beat them to the punch. 

Better to join them.

You're destined for the stars as it is,

with that mind too expandable 

for the confines of Earth.  

Prompt -"Deep space is my dwelling place, the stars my destination" 

Cancer is a Bitch.

I have been wanting to write something about cancer for awhile. I wrote a bit on it when this all started and I haven’t written anything since. It would seem there’s a block. I don’t want to think about it too in depth just yet, in the same way you don’t talk about a frightening landing on an airplane until you’re safe on the ground. Rather, you hold your breath for the duration, don’t speak a word. Somehow it seems safer that way, avoidance. It’s funny how the brain protects itself. 

In some ways I have been dealing with Peter’s cancer at a distance. He doesn’t live with me so every other week I knew I could see him and on his off weeks he went home to have chemotherapy. Sure he lost some hair (not nearly as much as expected though!), he was pale and tired, but he never lost who he was. I can count on one hand the amount of times he seemed overwhelmed or depressed. I occasionally accompanied him to his treatment and watched him realize that despite his misfortune, he was relatively lucky. As he would say, he was going through this with a cure pretty much guaranteed, while others were enduring the trials of chemo with little to no hope. 

Despite the enormity of the whole situation, none of it has ever seemed real. I sometimes force myself to think about what his doctor said when he was first diagnosed in October, if he had waited much longer, he wouldn’t have seen the New Year. We would never have known anything was wrong and we would be in a much different situation. Losing him is something I can’t quite allow myself to think about, it’s a “what if” that despite being out of the question at this point and pretty much throughout this whole ordeal, is still too close to us, I can still feel it breathing down our neck.  

I’m suffocated by how fragile life is, it weighs down on me. We take people in our lives for granted, of course. How exhausting life would be if we lived in our highest expression of love for our family and friends at all times. So, we normalize. In doing so, we take those in our life for granted, we have to act as if they will always be there because if we didn’t, life could not go on..and that is what we are best at, living life. 

What I have learned most from being by Peter’s side during this is that life does go on. Ridiculous, incredible things can happen to you, things that would have been unimaginable in the past. People lose loved ones suddenly, they have a child with disabilities, they lose a major part of themselves physically or emotionally. Anything can happen. You keep going and you normalize. To Peter, it became normal that every other week he went to therapy and was filled with poison that was in some way saving his life and destroying it at the same time. To me, “cancer” became an everyday word, it became something I learned about, something I connected to others with, it suddenly became part of my identity as someone who has a loved one with cancer. And it will be with us for the rest of our lives. 

Embarrassingly, I have had my moments of selfishness. I have wanted so badly for all his treatments to be done and when I truly thought about it I was so anxious to get on with our lives. I’m learning to live in the moment and have patience. Patience is not my strong suit. Ultimately, while I still have the ability to work and move forward, Peter’s professional life is truly on hold while he finishes treatment. I at times need to redirect and refocus my anxiety, use my energy in a positive way. 

I believe that the only thing you can do in a difficult or tragic situation is to accept it, do not fight it, and choose to take something positive away from it. Any event in our life only becomes truly tragic when we don’t learn from it or allow it to change our lives for the better. For Peter and I, we have to focus on how lucky he is to have found his cancer before it was too late, his ability to now live his life healthfully and mindfully, and our new appreciation for the life we will have together, the one we easily could have lost. If you can take nothing away from your trials and tribulations, if you choose not to grow, that is the only real tragedy.