Amy Winehouse was born into a musical environment in which the dead-end kitsch of celebrity tabloid “journalism” and reality television were the truly dominant artforms of the age. It is that disenchanted world, in many ways, which was the subject of her art.
I too don’t want to be someone who doesn’t believe in any kind of magic.
Isn’t it the time now to think about real, long-term changes?
We make the bargain that we work for pay in order to have time and space to do the things we love.
Or maybe I can feel New Orleans shrugging at me and saying “Don’t cry for me, what good will your tears do?”
I can’t help but notice that gyms are their own miniature ecosystems, with different characters playing unique and wonderful roles.
Effort does not suddenly grant one immunity from disability.
Hizbollah has Scuds now, it seems, and so the balance is threatened.
Booze, drugs, birds and brawls.
We become Yazid.