Monday, August 27, 2007

Something I No Longer Remember

This weekend I saw a picture of Amy Winehouse, the new British Janis Joplin, bleeding through her toes into her lovely pink ballet slippers, a result of shooting heroin through the spaces between them. This is the kind of gruesome juxtaposition that stays with one for a very long time, the innocent and damaged, an epic trainwreck so very young. I have her cd, of course, a birthday present from my ex-husband who says I remind him of her. It's not my voice which is one of the worst, both in speaking and singing. And the unfortunate part is that I know words to almost every song I hear which brings up a cosmic joke -- why do all the people with terrible voices have excellent memories for song lyrics? I can't help but be entranced by Amy -- her huge beehive hair, her tiny little body, that bad British orthodontia. She cuts and starves herself by her own admission and sings like she came straight out of Motown. What's not to love about such reckless self-destruction and beauty all in one package?

Of course, you can't live very long in this fashion. You have to slow down the freefall. I can remember a lot about being married because I was such a mess. I wasn't shooting heroin or singing about being a wicked girl, but I was living in a state of constant worry and fear, shell shocked by the bad turns that my life had taken, those turns finally catching up with me. I couldn't see my way out of my troubled mind, that trap stronger than any prison door. I, like Amy, loved pink ballet shoes and had a picture of them on my wall with an inspirational saying, something I no longer remember. But the shoes were pristine, never worn, like my own pair that stayed in the back of the closet, waiting for the right time to debut which never came because what I figured out is that I'm a lot more comfortable in high heels, even if I trip and fall, because I can always blame the shoes and not my own wobbly walk or the fact that I'm not watching where I'm going.

Michelle's Spell of the Day
"Good and bad - this is the story of my life." Martha Reeves

Cocktail Hour
Drinking magazine suggestion: Ms. Magazine

Benedictions and Maledictions
Happy Monday!


Charles Gramlich said...

I worry about the impact of such new stars on the upcoming generation. Will they feel they have to destroy themselves to make it? I suppose it's nothing new. I remember Nikki Sixx saying "all my heroes were addicted." Still, I worry.

James Dean said...

I liked going fast. Fuck it.

Zelda said...

I loved ballet. I could've made it really big, but I hurt myself too much. And I often wondered whether I was competing with Scott for fame.

Pythia3 said...

Something about ballet shoes...they represent the dream, the romance, the beauty-pain relationship. Even as a dancer, my shoes felt magical to me. I still have my first pair - and they are as uncomfortable as hell - but to get rid of them is to concede defeat.
Amy also represents that beauty-pain ideal...yes, ideal...warped, uh?

the walking man said...

Not everyone should wear ballet shoes. Some peoples life is more of a tango than a ballet. The tango it seems encompasses all that stops us from flying with grace and motion.

Come to think of it maybe none of us should wear ballet shoes.



realbigwings said...

Wow, I just checked out Amy Winehouse; her voice is powerful and rich. I'm glad you led me in that direction, and in such an intriguing way.

honkeie2 said...

I do not worry about the new talent out there. i love watching a good train wreck. I pay good money to see these hired circus monkey's dance for me strung out on drugs and booze.
And nothing sexier than a woman in ballet slippers and a teddy.....reminds me of a picture I saw of Marylin Mansons ex wife. She is HOT

honkeie2 said...

oh yeah Amy Wine-oh is hot and is most likely the next to young talent to go out like a rock star!