Ciudad Real, Wednesday IX.VII.MMVIII

I stayed up late watching Amy Winehouse perform live at the Porchester Hall in London. She’s got beautiful eyes, but her make-up is awful. She moves like a little girl who’s been asked to recite before her elders. Her voice is deep and gentle, but most of her songs are unremarkable. What’s more, she doesn’t care a hoot for what she’s doing. She seemed more interested in drinking, and when she sang her hit song Rehab, she rubbed her left eye and then looked at her fingers as if to search for a dust mote or traces of mascara while she kept on saying, No, no, no! However, I can’t say I didn’t enjoy it. It’s been a while since I last sat down to watch a concert on TV.


10.07.07. Diary, Intermediate, Music.

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