Wherein I Speak Ill Of The Dead

Since the news broke about Amy Winehouse's death, all I've been hearing (aside from "Back to Black" on a constant loop) is how she's the newest inductee to the infamous 27 Club: the group of uber-talented, super-messed-up rockers who all not-so-mysteriously popped it at age 27. This clique includes the likes of Jimi Hendrix, Kurt Cobain, Janis Joplin, Brian Jones, Jim Morrison - all personal favourites of mine (hell, who DIDN'T have a Cobain poster hanging on their walls and "Heart-Shaped Box" on repeat in the mid 90s?).

But everytime I think of their deaths - drug and alcohol fueled to the last - I lament not the loss of human life (cold as that sounds, it's true - they brought it upon themselves) but the unbearable waste of all that talent. All that power and energy and genius - gone. Snuffed out. Because they couldn't stay away from the needle, or the bottle, or whatever the eventual implement of their death may have been (to be fair, it was a shotgun in Cobain's case).

I'm not the first person to ask this over the ages, and I won't be the last, but what IS it about these artistic types?? Why do they have such addictive personalities? Sex, drugs, booze, gambling - is it too much money too soon? Excessive time on their hands? Greater opportunity? Less willpower? Does injecting something in their veins give them the added push to create the magic they do? Whatever the reason, obviously they never heard of "Just Say No", and end result: the world is deprived of decades of musical bliss because these coked up idiots couldn't get their shit together enough to ensure they didn't OD.

Honestly, ya morons. Join a 12-step programme. Pain and suffering and addiction may be good for your art, but your untimely death isn't.

R.I.P.

"...And I tread a troubled track
My odds are stacked;
I'll go back to black."

Apparently, you did. Rest in peace (if you knew what that was), Amy Winehouse.

Dead at 27 - what a sad, stupid waste of all that talent.

Beautiful Dangerous

Is it just me, or is Slash & Fergie's "Beautiful Dangerous" the ultimate stripper song? Very 80's nostalgia (G'n'R, of course) or Coyote Ugly-ish. Undeniable gorgeous guitar riffs, though. Of course, that goes without saying when it's Slash. Deep, it ain't. But definitely a fun song!

I don't know who you are now:
Mystery drenches my brain.
I wanna jump deep into your mouth,
Cuz something tell's me it's gonna rain.
.
I hear the drum rolls thumping,
And my heart starts jumping,
And that's when I spit on the floor...
Now my head's exploding,
And your gun is dirty,
So I'm guessing I'm on a roll.
Well it's a fine time,
Looking for a wine time, man,
And you said "baby you ready to play?"
Well come right on this rollercoaster,
Cuz it aint over, it aint over.
.
Now we're on this planet,
I'm in love with all your dangers (dangers)
We can live foreverI can be your favorite angel (angel)
Beautiful dangerous....
.
We acted smooth like rain...
Save all flame that we'll light.
You can be sick, I'll be nasty...
Cuz sometimes it's more fun to fight.
.
I hear the drum rolls thumping,

And my heart starts jumping,

And that's when I spit on the floor...

Now my head's exploding,

And your gun is dirty,

So I'm guessing I'm on a roll.

Well it's a fine time,

Looking for a wine time, man,

And you said "baby you ready to play?"

Well come right on this rollercoaster,

Cuz it aint over, it aint over.

.

Now we're on this planet,

I'm in love with all your dangers (dangers)

We can live foreverI can be your favorite angel (angel)

Beautiful dangerous....

Okay, so I know a lot of people out there aren't really into poetry in a major way (or at all, really)...but this is a poem I go around stumping to just about everyone. You know how it is...you come across something so beautiful, you just have to share it with people. It's Pablo Neruda's Sonnet XVII: Love.

I do not love you as if you were the salt-rose, topaz
Or arrow of carnations that propagate fire.
I love you as certain dark things are loved:
Secretly, between the shadow and the soul;
I love you as the plant that doesn't bloom
And carries hidden within itself the light of those flowers...
And thanks to your love, darkly in my body
Lives the dense fragrance that rises from the earth.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where;
I love you simply, without problems or pride.
I love you in this way because I know no other way of loving

But this, in which there is no I or you:
So close, that your hand upon my chest is my hand;
So close, that when I fall asleep, it is your eyes that close.

God, I love this one. Actually, I love most of his stuff. They're all translations into English, though, since the originals were in Spanish, but it makes you wonder...if the translation can feel like such a kick to the gut, how beautiful must the original be? His "Body of a Woman" is amazing...this one line gets me everytime: "You look like a world, lying in surrender." Gah. Oh, and his "Tonight I Can Write the Saddest Lines"...wow...just...wow.

It's amazing the power that words can carry...how immensely evocative they are...how, to someone with an imagination (and hoo boy, do I ever have one!), words can convey more than a picture ever could. And I've seen this power mostly in poetry and songs...Not just Neruda, but Frost, and Dylan Thomas, and Byron, and Shakespeare and...Metallica, and 3 Doors Down, and Deathcab for Cutie, and Bif Naked, and....okay, it could go on forever.

But seriously. Do yourself a favour. Read Neruda's "Sonnet XVII" and "Body of a Woman". And Ben Jonson's "Love Poem to Celia". And then listen to Metallica's "Turn the Pages". And Bif Naked's "Lucky". And Bush's "Out of This World". And Staind's "It's Been A While".

Actually, listen to just about anything that makes you smile and sit down and say "Oh." Do that once a day, and I think it'll be a whole lot better for you than any vitamin tonic or calcium tablet or iron pill.

Now if I could just sell that theory to my doctor. Sigh.