The year was 1991.... a young fledgling rock star from Seattle was in pain. A lot of pain. Rigorous touring was not to blame. Soon the young musician realized something was wrong. Very wrong. His wife, that he'd had memories of but never actually met was missing from his life. From that time period in general. Trapped in 2012, she awaits a way back. A way back to change the future... a future that turns into a place with no Kurt Cobain.

A murder plot that turns into the most famous suicide in history, this site is dedicated to the small story of the husband who left a billion clues for the wife who figured them out.

Now her goal is to avenge her husband's death by pinning the murderer's with their crime...

Meanwhile she pours herself into her journal, awaiting the day she is finally reunited with her husband in time.

Letters to Kurt...


Sunday, September 18, 2011

a video recap....



Note the photo that is hard as hell to find when you do a search, the shot with me on the "phone" holding a shotgun.



That is a HUGE clue that I left her. One, duh, I'm holding a big fucking shotgun to my HEAD, and two.... I'm on the phone. I am telling her that,



"come on, I would never pick up the phone because I know it's not you...." just like in U2's (oops MY) song, "Sometimes you can't make it on your own" , "And it's you when I look in the mirror (identical) and it's YOU when I don't pick up the phone...."









AND LOOK HOW MY WIFE DESCRIBES ME AS A STRANGER
BELOW!!!! yeah. I'm feelin' it....







Everyone needs something to believe in....



And I believe in you. You had the power to



let people in. How would you have wanted



people to remember you? Not this way.



Peace. Love. Empathy.

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