Well, as you could guess, I've been reading all weekend long and read The Creative Family in two days flat, then moved onto the next thing I'd been excited to read since Tuesday--Amy, Amy, Amy: The Amy Winehouse Story. It was only about 150 pages and it was also a two day read. I really don't read many biographies, unless they are about musicians I really like. The last one I read was about Ani D. (on "the list" there is only 1--about Nelsen Mandela).
The book was interesting, as I really didn't know much about her (or, rather, anything) other than the fact I have always thought she was our generations version of Billie Holiday. Unfortunately, that might be more true to life than I thought. She is dangerously addicted to hard drugs, like cocaine, and is often seen in public very inebriated. Just pop over to google news and enter in her name and you'll find a slew of awful stories from the latest drug binge to her cutting out of her plans for a new record in late 2008. When I was researching her after I finished the book (as I knew she won a lot of Grammys...the book was ended late November with her late night bra + jeans + bare feet = crazy "Wino" amy story), I just felt this overwhelming pity and sorrow for her. Without this post getting too long, I will just say that usually I have the opposite feelings towards the world's addicted. Because I took the time to research her life and what was behind her madness, her crazy tight-roping with life. I found a person under there, who had been really hurt in her past, and turning to the only person or thing or addiction that fed her swollen and bruised soul. This understanding has definitely begun to peel back my anger towards addicts and see that there is yes, a struggling body, tortured veins, sick heads; but there is also a struggling person, tortured spirit, and a sick soul. I found this blog entry and thought I couldn't have said it better myself.
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