There seems to be something deep in the human psyche - as opposed to shallow and on the surface - that is excited by the "self-destructive artist", the "god" "sacrificing himself" for the benefit (somehow) of the rest of us (any Jungians want to help us out?). I was looking at comments on Youtube the other day, under an Amy Winehouse video clip - probably about half of them were expressing a kind of exhilaration inspired by the idea that she is (apparently) destroying herself with substance abuse and pig-headedness.

There is of course the admiration for the rebel who, unlike the rest of us poor but sensible slobs, is unrestricted by social rules. We both scorn and envy the freedom of the holy fool, the passion of the driven artist whose vision (supposedly) drives him to excess and madness ... (Weave a circle 'round him thrice,/And close your eyes with holy dread,/For he on honey-dew hath fed,/And drunk the milk of paradise.)

Just a passing thought ...