• I remember summer of 2007, freshly immigrated from South Florida to the Midwest, broken hearted, alone, and melting in the Kansas heat. That summer, I locked myself in my tiny corner room of the funny house on 10th and Grove, and listened to angry women all season long. Tori’s “Boys for Pele”, Joni’s “Blue”, and Amy’s “Back to Black”. I can still remember feeling proud of myself for having copied the cover’s font perfectly onto my freshly burned CD.
Amy was my kind of girl, through and through. Young and unapologetic, which many in the media and among my peer group would simply label as “troubled”. I refuse to perpetuate that myth. Amy was an addict, yes - and to that end, found herself in trouble because of her needs, but “troubled”…no. Amy was undeniably, absolutely, and vibrantly human.
This is the first time in my life that I feel truly affected by the death of a high profile individual. As a younger woman and one still in the flux of malleable adulthood, I admired and tried to emulate Amy’s often brash confidence, her stubborn resolve to do things her way, no apology to anyone, not even her fans. It feel uncomfortable expressing my sympathy with her addiction to substance, unrequited love and enduring hardship, only because Amy never seemed the kind of woman who gave a flying fuck if you sympathized with her or not. I will miss her, I will miss wishing her better days, I will miss the fucking roller-coaster ride of being her staunch fan over these last five years. I regret never seeing her in concert, I regret not being able to shimmy and shake my tits around like a coquette while listening to her sing and jive before my eyes. More than anything, I will be forever saddened at never having the opportunity to hear her interpretation of the strange future ahead of us.
“Without girls like you, there’d be no fun. We’d go to the club and not see anyone. Without girls like you, there’s no night life.”
Amy Winehouse “Love Is A Losing Game” (Live)
(via mindset)
