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No one who knows who singer Amy Winehouse is could possibly be surprised by recent reports that she is sick with emphysema, TB or some other lung condition. Dammit. She is such a talent with her dark lyrics and throaty voice. Her appearance is well, original. I like bits and pieces of it, but all together the effect is disturbing, sort of crackhead slumber party-esque.
But we should never judge a book by its cover, even if the cover looks like its been gnawed on by rabid doggies all night. I like listening to Amy without looking at her. Her songs are genuine, smooth and emotional. My favorite is "You Know I'm No Good". Remember the lyric, "I cry for you on the kitchen floor"? At one point or another, all girls cry for someone on the kitchen floor.
Well, it seems Amy's pushed her envelop past the point of no return at the ripe old age of 24. Her Dad blurted out her respiratory illness and warned drug dealers who continue to supply her with crack "must take responsibility". No, that's not gonna work. Drug dealers don't have a conscience. There won't be any change of heart on that end.
I'm not sure what will help Amy, but I hope someone or something does soon. At least get her to wear longer skirts. Seriously, is that a tampon string hanging out? Poor girl. Her husband is a clown. Her "famous" friends are trainwrecks. Her parents seem like enablers. I've seen live shows where she's clearly cracked out of her mind and they're both there cheering her on by the stage. My Mom would pull me off by my hair and lock me in my bedroom.
Many blog entries about Amy's latest health crisis are pretty harsh. There's even a website asking for predictions on when she will die. Winner gets an iPod Touch. Bleh. Now that's tacky. Another said she's inhaled too much hairspray with that planet on her head. Now that's a thought...Whatever the disease, I do hope Amy recovers. She sure takes the phrase, "pick your poison" to a whole new level.
But we should never judge a book by its cover, even if the cover looks like its been gnawed on by rabid doggies all night. I like listening to Amy without looking at her. Her songs are genuine, smooth and emotional. My favorite is "You Know I'm No Good". Remember the lyric, "I cry for you on the kitchen floor"? At one point or another, all girls cry for someone on the kitchen floor.
Well, it seems Amy's pushed her envelop past the point of no return at the ripe old age of 24. Her Dad blurted out her respiratory illness and warned drug dealers who continue to supply her with crack "must take responsibility". No, that's not gonna work. Drug dealers don't have a conscience. There won't be any change of heart on that end.
I'm not sure what will help Amy, but I hope someone or something does soon. At least get her to wear longer skirts. Seriously, is that a tampon string hanging out? Poor girl. Her husband is a clown. Her "famous" friends are trainwrecks. Her parents seem like enablers. I've seen live shows where she's clearly cracked out of her mind and they're both there cheering her on by the stage. My Mom would pull me off by my hair and lock me in my bedroom.Many blog entries about Amy's latest health crisis are pretty harsh. There's even a website asking for predictions on when she will die. Winner gets an iPod Touch. Bleh. Now that's tacky. Another said she's inhaled too much hairspray with that planet on her head. Now that's a thought...Whatever the disease, I do hope Amy recovers. She sure takes the phrase, "pick your poison" to a whole new level.
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I, too, love my crazy Amy's voice. Soulful, street wise, throaty. But she is speeding toward a hasty demise.
Sometimes I think if she nixed the tattoos (you know with laser treatment) and went to a celebrity dentist to get a spankin' new pair of veneers for her teeth she could meet normal halfway.
Except for the crazy coke/crack/heroin et al habit.
But I'm still pulling for her. Just one more album Amy. That's all I'm looking for.
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