Sunday, June 11
drag my heavy feet across the sand and raise up clouds of dust
listen to mozart because it helps brain development of the unborn child
pop a pill of nothing when you have a headache
and your brain does the rest in convincing your body that you are fine
destroy the world with a little red button
sleep with the enemy
and maybe you'll fall in love
so drag my heavy feet
to draw pictures in the sand
to create lasting memories
of people and the land
if you like a band enough, you'll wear its shirts
not to be free walking advertisements for the band
but as a proud proclamation that you have come to know and appreciate
something that the rest of the world has simply passed by
crash a guitar, smash it into pieces and splintered wood
and throw it at someone.--i don't want it anymore
trash it at a simpering fan who will forever revere it as a sacred keepsake
the castoff of one, the treasure of another
sometimes it's not enough to love and not be loved in return
to be the sycophant, the stooge, the sidekick
forever being ordered around, to be in the shadows the background
instead of the master, the creator, and the hero
in the limelight, the glory.
life is a television drama waiting to be played out
sometimes people are lured into the trap. played out by a reversal in protocol
then television dramas become one's life
light is wonderful when it isn't harshly dazzling
sometimes a light burns so bright, that it is painful to behold
for such a light is doomed to burn out
like the man who quoted neil young
on how it's better to burn out than to fade away
**********
Kurt Cobain's suicide letter
To Boddah
Speaking from the tongue of an experienced simpleton who obviously would rather be an emasculated, infantile complain-ee. This note should be pretty easy to understand.
All the warnings from the punk rock 101 courses over the years, since my first introduction to the, shall we say, ethics involved with independence and the embracement of your community has proven to be very true. I haven't felt the excitement of listening to as well as creating music along with reading and writing for too many years now. I feel guity beyond words about these things.
For example when we're back stage and the lights go out and the manic roar of the crowds begins., it doesn't affect me the way in which it did for Freddie Mercury, who seemed to love, relish in the the love and adoration from the crowd which is something I totally admire and envy. The fact is, I can't fool you, any one of you. It simply isn't fair to you or me. The worst crime I can think of would be to rip people off by faking it and pretending as if I'm having 100% fun. Sometimes I feel as if I should have a punch-in time clock before I walk out on stage. I've tried everything within my power to appreciate it (and I do,God, believe me I do, but it's not enough). I appreciate the fact that I and we have affected and entertained a lot of people. It must be one of those narcissists who only appreciate things when they're gone. I'm too sensitive. I need to be slightly numb in order to regain the enthusiasms I once had as a child. On our last 3 tours, I've had a much better appreciation for all the people I've known personally, and as fans of our music, but I still can't get over the frustration, the guilt and empathy I have for everyone. There's good in all of us and I think I simply love people too much, so much that it makes me feel too fucking sad. The sad little, sensitive, unappreciative, Pisces, Jesus man. Why don't you just enjoy it? I don't know!
I don't have a goddess of a wife who sweats ambition and empathy... and a daughter who reminds me too much of what i used to be, full of love and joy, kissing every person she meets because everyone is good and will do her no harm. And that terrifies me to the point to where I can barely function. I can't stand the thought of Frances becoming the miserable, self-destructive, death rocker that I've become.
I have it good, very good, and I'm grateful, but since the age of seven, I've become hateful towards all humans in general. Only because it seems so easy for people to get along that have empathy. Only because I love and feel sorry for people too much I guess.
Thank you all from the pit of my burning, nauseous stomach for your letters and concern during the past years. I'm too much of an erratic, moody baby! I don't have the passion anymore, and so remember, it's better to burn out than to fade away.
Peace, love, empathy.
Kurt Cobain
Frances and Courtney, I'll be at your alter.
Please keep going Courtney, for Frances.
For her life, which will be so much happier without me.
I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU!
***********
i think that i'm precisely the kind of person who wouldn't be able
to bring herself to commit suicide
because of an inability to pen the perfect suicide letter.
but when i die i want it to be beautiful
peacefully pass away in my sleep
it's beautiful to die with slit wrists
blood pooling everywhere around, crimson stains of intense hurt
all regrets flowing out of the body
it's when the attempt falls flat on its face
when one wants so desperately to die but fails to
ugly gashes cut deeply into the skin that tries to heal itself
the body rebels against the mind
and the monstrosity and repugnance of sin
and the hideousness of regret and failure screams chapters and volumes
of unbearably shrill and piercing knives
0. oOo
