Whitney Houston, Tragic

Been a long week,

but,

the light is coming,

go towards,

the light,

BB,

nah, not that light,

the light of,

Spring:-)

Been an up,

and,

down,

sort of week,

been incubating,

a bit,

of a cold,

but,

I think I got,

the sucker,

sweat ed it out.

The Habs,

have been,

winning,

four in a row,

might be,

too little,

too late,

but,

it’s nice to see them win:-)

Yesterday,

I heard,

Whitney Houston,

died.

I remember,

when she burst,

on to the music scene,

way back in 1985,

yes, I am that old!!

That girl,

could sing,

the voice of an angel,

and,

she was a vision,

a knockout,

one, two punch,

beautiful girl,

with a killer,

voice.

I was smitten,

as,

were millions,

world wide,

I also heard a rumour,

she was,

as my friends,

David and Sylvain,

always say,

family,

one of us.

I didn’t care,

I just liked to hear her sing.

Danced with a few lovely ladies to her music,  back in the day<nostalgia>

Whitney,

was a superstar,

and,

then she married,

Bobby Brown,

she never seemed happy,

he struck me,

as a bit of a weasel,

a much smaller talent,

a coat tails surfer.

If Whitney was a dyke,

I’m not saying, I don’t know,

Why not come out?

She had a huge,

fan base,

it didn’t kill,

Melissa or k.d’s careeers,

she had more than enough,

of what my dad,

used to call,

f*** you money.

But, these were

the eighties,

and,

she was a pop star,

different times,

none of us,

were so much,

out of the closet,

and for a woman,

like her,

the pressure to conform,

must have been,

overwhelming.

They had a difficult mariage,

and,

a few years,

after she married Brown,

I saw her,

at the Grammys,

she looked emaciated,

and,

ill,

she couldn’t hardly,

sing anymore.

Drugs,

the great ruiner.

A bad marriage,

drugs,

not being true,

to herself,

made Whitney,

less.

She went from being,

luminous and strong,

to a shadow,

of her former self.

Unspeakably,

sad,

tragic,

such a waste.

We don’t know yet,

what killed Whitney,

I have my theories, but, what do I know

she had made,

a comeback,

her voice,

nowhere,

what it had been,

but,

still…

and now dead at forty-eight…

I’ll miss you,

Whitney,

your beautiful voice,

was a part of ,

the soundtrack of my life,

that big smile,

your loveliness,

your lushness,

will be missed.

Godspeed.

Later girls,

BB

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Author: Bookish Butch

I am a bookish butch in my mid early fifties. I live in Montréal and always have. I used to run a small used bookstore. Reading keeps me sane. My latest jiggie is photography, book project in the works, living the dream

4 thoughts on “Whitney Houston, Tragic”

  1. Hey BB, Why indeed, didn’t she come out if she was gay? Well, b/c all the f**k you money in the world wouldn’t have given her acceptance in the black community–her community. Remember Luther Vandross? I wish that I could say that, that was then–the 80s, but now she would be OK. I can’t though, b/c she would be no more accepted now….As secret as it is kept, the African American community in a lot of areas walks lock step with the Tea Baggers. If the Tea Baggers weren’t so racist, they could tap into a huge constituency–Thank God for racism:-)

    For perspective, my mother told me that she would prefer that I choose a murderer, a wino, a bum off the street–as long as it was a man, any man–rather than tell any of ‘her’ family that I am gay…No, she hasn’t changed her mind and she has never met my partner of 16 years….Thus, as sad as it is, I understand what Whitney may have felt she couldn’t lose.

  2. I hear ya:-( I suspected as much, I just didn’t think it was my place as a pasty white Canadian wink to say such things, I wasn’t judging, it just makes me very sad and all the more impressed by the courageous stand of some people ( obviously, I include you in that) makes me realise once again
    how lucky I am.

  3. Hmmm…I’m not courageous, BB–just stubborn and unfortunately for my mother–self confident! The ironic thing is that my mother raised me to believe in myself and my path. HA! My family is a bit crazy, but we muddle along. My partner is accepted and invited to all family functions…we tell my mother and she chooses her own path. Amazingly, we are not estranged. We just keep playing a crazy game of ‘Chicken’. So far, I haven’t swerved off the road yet! My mother, though is on the side somewhere, waiting for me to come to my senses!

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