RIP Whitney Houston
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punkypink (imported)
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Riverwind (imported)
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Re: RIP Whitney Houston
What good is sitting alone in your room?
Come hear the music play.
Life is a Cabaret, old chum,
Come to the Cabaret.
Put down the knitting,
The book and the broom.
Time for a holiday.
Life is Cabaret, old chum,
Come to the Cabaret.
Come taste the wine,
Come hear the band.
Come blow your horn,
Start celebrating;
Right this way,
Your table's waiting
No use permitting
soem prophet of doom
To wipe every smile away.
Come hear the music play.
Life is a Cabaret, old chum,
Come to the Cabaret!
I used to have a girlfriend
known as Elsie
With whom I shared
Four sordid rooms in Chelsea
She wasn't what you'd call
A blushing flower...
As a matter of fact
She rented by the hour.
The day she died the neighbors
came to snicker:
"Well, thats what comes
from to much pills and liquor."
But when I saw her laid out like a Queen
She was the happiest...corpse...
I'd ever seen.
I think of Elsie to this very day.
I'd remember how'd she turn to me and say:
"What good is sitting alone in your room?
Come hear the music play.
Life is a Cabaret, old chum,
Come to the Cabaret."
And as for me,
I made up my mind back in Chelsea,
When I go, I'm going like Elsie.
Start by admitting
From cradle to tomb
Isn't that long a stay.
Life is a Cabaret, old chum,
Only a Cabaret, old chum,
And I love a Cabaret!
Somehow the words of this song came to mind.
River
Come hear the music play.
Life is a Cabaret, old chum,
Come to the Cabaret.
Put down the knitting,
The book and the broom.
Time for a holiday.
Life is Cabaret, old chum,
Come to the Cabaret.
Come taste the wine,
Come hear the band.
Come blow your horn,
Start celebrating;
Right this way,
Your table's waiting
No use permitting
soem prophet of doom
To wipe every smile away.
Come hear the music play.
Life is a Cabaret, old chum,
Come to the Cabaret!
I used to have a girlfriend
known as Elsie
With whom I shared
Four sordid rooms in Chelsea
She wasn't what you'd call
A blushing flower...
As a matter of fact
She rented by the hour.
The day she died the neighbors
came to snicker:
"Well, thats what comes
from to much pills and liquor."
But when I saw her laid out like a Queen
She was the happiest...corpse...
I'd ever seen.
I think of Elsie to this very day.
I'd remember how'd she turn to me and say:
"What good is sitting alone in your room?
Come hear the music play.
Life is a Cabaret, old chum,
Come to the Cabaret."
And as for me,
I made up my mind back in Chelsea,
When I go, I'm going like Elsie.
Start by admitting
From cradle to tomb
Isn't that long a stay.
Life is a Cabaret, old chum,
Only a Cabaret, old chum,
And I love a Cabaret!
Somehow the words of this song came to mind.
River
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Losethem (imported)
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Re: RIP Whitney Houston
As far as I'm concerned this is what's wrong with our world. We celebrate "tragedy" when a crack addict dies but have no problem completely ignoring human suffering on a mass scale.
Perhaps it could rate a mention on the news since she had some notoriety, but it's hardly worth status as the #1 story. Frankly it doesn't deserve any more attention than the death of any other drug addict.
--LT
Perhaps it could rate a mention on the news since she had some notoriety, but it's hardly worth status as the #1 story. Frankly it doesn't deserve any more attention than the death of any other drug addict.
--LT
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janekane (imported)
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Re: RIP Whitney Houston
It does not come into my mind to celebrate tragedy; I hold that the death of any person who is taken by addiction, in the manner in which the local newspaper commonly describes suicide, to having "died unexpectedly," deserves all the attention of mine that I am able to develop.
If the work of Harvard psychiatrist Lance Dodes, M.D., as in his book, "The Heart of Addiction" is biologically accurate; addiction is a psychological displacement defense process, then I hold, from living with very severely addicted people, that the root cause of addiction is trauma of such form as to be vastly more important than could possibly be forgotten and immensely more painful than can possibly be remembered. The German psychiatrist, Alice Miller, termed such trauma as "betrayal trauma."
The idea of something being too important to forget and too painful to remember is found in the introduction by Stephen Hawking of the Starz production "A Clean Escape" which I found on DVD along with the five other productions of the Starz series, "Masters of Science Fiction." "A Clean Escape" is as good an easily viewed presentation of the core aspects of betrayal trauma (in this video, seeming self-betrayal may be the paramount form) and its resulting dissociative trauma as I recall ever seeing in any movie or video production.
Neurologist Robert Scaer, in his books, "The Trauma Spectrum," and, "The Body Bears the Burden, Second Edition," observes that (The Trauma Spectrum, the first page of Chapter 3) trauma is imprisonment of the mind; at a sufficient level of addiction to trauma as displacement from the actual traumatic events, the pain of addiction can become so severe as to render a person utterly incapable of avoiding suicide.
Given stress that impinges on the unbearable, I observe that there are four basic responses available to a person, to wit, fight, flight, freeze, and finish.
When the pain is too intense to remember, fight is ruled out; when the pain is too intense to escape, flight is ruled out. If fight and flight are ruled out by the intensity of the pain, freeze and finish are all that remain. Drugs, legal or prescribed, can extend the time during which freeze can be sustained; when adaptation to mind-numbing drugs fails, and when fight and flight remain impossible because of the severity of pain, finish ("dying unexpectedly"?) is the final, ultimate pain reliever.
I find no fault with people whose life circumstances have taken from them every alternative to relief from unbearable pain except suicide.
What do I know about suicide? On the third day of kindergarten, by being obviously (to many of my classmates) like a baby girl led to abuse by about a third of my classmates so severe that, on the way home after school, walking beside my mother as we approached a main street intersection at which we faced a red light, a city bus came from our left, stopped in front of us, let off and picked up passengers, and, still having a green light, pulled in front of us. For perhaps a millisecond or so, I had two thoughts in nearly instantaneous succession. The first was that the children who were tormenting me would no longer be able to do so were I to pull my hand loose from my mother's hand and dive under the rear wheels of that bus. The second, which came so fast that I never had time to even twitch, was that my doing so would hurt my family "a thousand times" more than those other children could ever hurt me.
In something like a mere instant, I became absolutely immune to the notion of suicide. Yet I have understood, for some 67 years, what it takes to get to suicidal ideation and have a hint of a clue as to what it takes to suicide effectively.
Someone is an addict? I cry. I grieve for their loss of selfhood. I experience a sense of unfathomable sorrow.
If the work of Harvard psychiatrist Lance Dodes, M.D., as in his book, "The Heart of Addiction" is biologically accurate; addiction is a psychological displacement defense process, then I hold, from living with very severely addicted people, that the root cause of addiction is trauma of such form as to be vastly more important than could possibly be forgotten and immensely more painful than can possibly be remembered. The German psychiatrist, Alice Miller, termed such trauma as "betrayal trauma."
The idea of something being too important to forget and too painful to remember is found in the introduction by Stephen Hawking of the Starz production "A Clean Escape" which I found on DVD along with the five other productions of the Starz series, "Masters of Science Fiction." "A Clean Escape" is as good an easily viewed presentation of the core aspects of betrayal trauma (in this video, seeming self-betrayal may be the paramount form) and its resulting dissociative trauma as I recall ever seeing in any movie or video production.
Neurologist Robert Scaer, in his books, "The Trauma Spectrum," and, "The Body Bears the Burden, Second Edition," observes that (The Trauma Spectrum, the first page of Chapter 3) trauma is imprisonment of the mind; at a sufficient level of addiction to trauma as displacement from the actual traumatic events, the pain of addiction can become so severe as to render a person utterly incapable of avoiding suicide.
Given stress that impinges on the unbearable, I observe that there are four basic responses available to a person, to wit, fight, flight, freeze, and finish.
When the pain is too intense to remember, fight is ruled out; when the pain is too intense to escape, flight is ruled out. If fight and flight are ruled out by the intensity of the pain, freeze and finish are all that remain. Drugs, legal or prescribed, can extend the time during which freeze can be sustained; when adaptation to mind-numbing drugs fails, and when fight and flight remain impossible because of the severity of pain, finish ("dying unexpectedly"?) is the final, ultimate pain reliever.
I find no fault with people whose life circumstances have taken from them every alternative to relief from unbearable pain except suicide.
What do I know about suicide? On the third day of kindergarten, by being obviously (to many of my classmates) like a baby girl led to abuse by about a third of my classmates so severe that, on the way home after school, walking beside my mother as we approached a main street intersection at which we faced a red light, a city bus came from our left, stopped in front of us, let off and picked up passengers, and, still having a green light, pulled in front of us. For perhaps a millisecond or so, I had two thoughts in nearly instantaneous succession. The first was that the children who were tormenting me would no longer be able to do so were I to pull my hand loose from my mother's hand and dive under the rear wheels of that bus. The second, which came so fast that I never had time to even twitch, was that my doing so would hurt my family "a thousand times" more than those other children could ever hurt me.
In something like a mere instant, I became absolutely immune to the notion of suicide. Yet I have understood, for some 67 years, what it takes to get to suicidal ideation and have a hint of a clue as to what it takes to suicide effectively.
Someone is an addict? I cry. I grieve for their loss of selfhood. I experience a sense of unfathomable sorrow.
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tugon (imported)
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Re: RIP Whitney Houston
I am always sad when a great talent dies. The beauty they bring to the world is incredible. I always wonder what all the fame and adulation does to a person. Of course her troubled relationship probably did not help. Whitney I will remember your gifts and not your struggles. Be at peace.
Thank you Whitney for sharing your voice and talent with the world. Heaven's choir is a little sweeter tonight.
Thank you Whitney for sharing your voice and talent with the world. Heaven's choir is a little sweeter tonight.
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Riverwind (imported)
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Re: RIP Whitney Houston
It is to bad, so many have died at a young age because of drugs and booze, or the combination of both. So is it because of the talent that they do drugs or because of to much fame to fast, or would they always have been drawn to drugs and such. Some lines of work seem to be more prone to such activity, wrestlers was one I did not expect.
River
River
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Skudster (imported)
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Re: RIP Whitney Houston
First of all Rest in Peace Whitney.
Secondly, JaneKane, your post was very moving to me for some reason, I havnt figured out why yet, I will have to read it a few more times to figure it out.
Secondly, JaneKane, your post was very moving to me for some reason, I havnt figured out why yet, I will have to read it a few more times to figure it out.
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Dave (imported)
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Dave (imported)
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Re: RIP Whitney Houston
I was trying to get the ending of my latest short story when this thought intruded:
The earliest drama written and preserved is from ancient Greece before the Romans. And what survived is tragedy -- Oedipus and Antigone struggle against fate and furies, Electra and Orestes seeking revenge of a dead father, Odysseus and his struggles to regain his home, Prometheus the fire-bringer... Great and epic falls from grace into the depths. He whom the gods grant the most must beware that they can be plunged into the depths by those same gods.
That is why this matters so much to humans. Humanity is almost hardwired to see the tragic fall of a public figure and mourn.
The earliest drama written and preserved is from ancient Greece before the Romans. And what survived is tragedy -- Oedipus and Antigone struggle against fate and furies, Electra and Orestes seeking revenge of a dead father, Odysseus and his struggles to regain his home, Prometheus the fire-bringer... Great and epic falls from grace into the depths. He whom the gods grant the most must beware that they can be plunged into the depths by those same gods.
That is why this matters so much to humans. Humanity is almost hardwired to see the tragic fall of a public figure and mourn.