The Disease of Addiction

is the most boring, cliched phrase I have read to date. And that says quite a bit now that every nincompoop with fingers can contribute to the ongoing human dialog. I am sad that Amy Winehouse is dead because I enjoyed looking at, and listening to her. The article in NYmag by N. Abebe about fetishizing fatalism for art and artifice sake is the best thing I have seen on her life and death. "There's no point in fighting the sadness..." he writes of the worldview she shared with Billie Holiday and others; but you have to fight the sadness. It is possible. Compelling, even. I believe I have that heroic capacity. And that there's value in it. For some reason I may never know, I have faith. I look forward to seeing the other side, even only in glimpses. RIP Amy and Artex.

The Trouble with Baby Books

is that they are written for people who don't otherwise read.