Amy Winehouse

Today, Amy Winehouse was found dead in her London home.

While her death is sad and disappointing to most, others find it to be no surprise. Although Police said that the cause of death is 'undetermined' it is assumed by most that she had overdosed.

The people who are making assumptions (whether they be crude, serious or otherwise) on her cause of death are being inappropriate not to mention disrespectful. Death isn't something to joke about even if it is extremely ironic.

On the other end of the spectrum we have the super saddened 'fans'. Many, many people from nobodies, all the way up to the A-Listers are commenting on her death as 'the loss of one of the best artists of our time'. I think every artist is a great artist in their own way. Just because she was 27 and semi-mainstream doesn't mean that it's a larger loss than an artist who never had the chance to record.

I did a little investigation of my own to find out exactly how many of the people who had posted about their great loss actually thought of her as one of their favorite artists before she deceased. I found about 25 posts on Facebook about her death (that weren't making a mockery of it). Of those 25 people who posted, only one of them had Amy Winehouse mentioned in their 'Info' page. Funny thing is, he had been to rehab before and bragged about it. I personally think he had her in there so people would associate him with her.

Of those 25 people, about 10 of them liked her page TODAY. They didn't think about her at all as their favorite musician until her death.

It's just perplexing to me how you can claim so much love for something once it's gone. In a few short weeks, her death will be something of the past and we won't think about it until this day comes next year.

I posted my favorite Amy Winehouse song, Back To Black on Facebook to celebrate her life. I don't want to mourn, nor do I feel obligated to because I never knew her personally. She was a great musician and visionary, and I respect that.

Familiar

I was walking down a busy road in a populous city. There was the back to what seemed to be a factory to my left, with a large fire escape with several turns. Aneta and a few other familiar people were walking to my right and behind me.

A loud and disconcerting noise plagued the air. I could feel it getting dark. I could feel the world caving in. I looked to the sky for an answer; that was when I saw it approaching. I ran to the fire escape as quickly as I could. Climbing several steps at a time, I headed for my escape. Familiar and unfamiliar faces followed as the shadows quickly swept in. I hurtled over a locked gate leaving everything I knew, and everything I had yet to know behind.

The powerful wave touched down and cleaned the streets. I couldn't hear it, nor could I feel it. When the iron door shut and I was considered safe I began to walk around inside the dark, seemingly empty building.

I came across machinery for stuffed animal assembly. I thought this seemed to be random since the building advertised that a new aquarium would be coming soon. Despite the irony, there were no signs of an aquarium. Inside it was dry, and safe.

I had been removed from the building without my knowledge. I woke up in a neighborhood that was forested despite it's many homes. I was clothing-less, walking up a steep curved road.

I was comfortable. The air was soothing and the breeze wouldn't be noticeable if it weren't for the trees swaying. I came across an older woman, who came off eccentric yet easy to talk to. Nothing about the way she looked was familiar but the way she felt was very familiar.

She and I walked very slowly to the end of her driveway, which was of moderate length, and back. She did all of the talking. Her words were heard although I cannot recall what any of them were. She spoke with ease and elegance. It were as if she were reciting something she had kept inside of her for eternity.

I was in her home sitting in the couch for a period of time. I was in clothes that were my own, and that she must have found and given me.

She was later standing in the dining room, which was also the kitchen, with me. A tall young woman came in. She was wearing a long cloak-like coat and large, rounded sunglasses. She was looking in the direction of the old woman in a way that felt evil. The old woman looked through her thick spectacles at the woman in a way that indicated she was notorious for her all-around good reputation.

The naive old woman was unable to make the connection to who the woman really was. I found myself eye-to-eye with her as she held a large staff in her left hand that stood as tall as she was. It had a round top, with a sharp, pointed end.

She raised her staff to me, going in for the kill. I gained complete control of the weapon with threatening vengeance. I raised the tool and guided it into the middle of her forehead that was completely exposed by her pulled-back hair. With that I pulled the staff down the middle of her face. She was without reaction through disarming her and experiencing her demise.

The old woman had disappeared. I was alone. Her sunglasses were removed through the ordeal yet she still remained unexposed.

I released all of the demons inside of my soul in one swift swipe yet I could feel them still running through my veins.

Diane Dies

Today is one, of two days, that I got off from work this week. I decided to sleep in really late then go out with Diane later on. And I did just that.

Diane had come over sooner than expected. So instead of doing my hair, I just threw it back in a hat, and it looked fine. I took my time getting ready... doing my make up and getting dressed, since Diane had told me that she didn't mind how long I took.

When I was done getting ready we left quickly. We were on our way to her house. We were about 1/4 of the way there when Diane said, "I would have waited for you to do your hair, you didn't have to wear that hat that doesn't match."

I replied, "I wasn't in the mood to do it. And who are you to tell me what matches, you think your stupid heather grey cardigan matches everything."

She made a remark about me saying I was going to put some gel in my hair. And I explained, and I don't use gel, I only use hair spray. Diane began to raise her voice, and told me that I did say I use gel.

I got loud back at her and said, "Listen CUNT, you're wrong! I don't use gel, I don't even own fucking gel. You're FUCKING WRONG!" The car came to a screeching halt. She told me go get out. I did, and on the way out I said, "See you next Tuesday, BITCH," and slammed the door as hard as I could.

As I got out I noticed skid marks.

I only had a 30 minute walk home. It was beautiful outside. I enjoyed it more than anything I had done with Diane in the past few months.

No one has heard from Diane, since I saw her. Maybe I should be worried. Not being able to admit your wrong does have a price tag. Death.

Her cold sausage fingers texted me to try and win me over. I just kept sending her "Goodbye" in different languages. She left me a voice mail and claimed that I raised my voice first and I was being immature. She's just thick-headed. She always has to get her way. She should know by now, that in our friendship, I have always gotten my way before she ever has.

This bitch is dead to me.