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...


Friday, June 25, 2010

Rock Stars and Janitors.


Dear Kurt,

I respect you. I respect you in a way that is hard to respect people in the industry today.

You worked hard to accomplish your musical ambitions and you also know what it's like to struggle for money and deal with shit jobs.

You were so bad off at one point that you couldn't afford gas to make the road trip to see your favorite band, The Melvins.

But you took it with a grain of salt. No ego. You just simply stated that Krist and his girlfriend dropped out of the whole thing and you and your girl couldn't afford the extra gas money. No ego. No resentment.

You were so... Different... Than people who exist today.

You were a genuine, passionate musician trying to get your songs heard... But on the other hand you had no money, no connections and no qualms about it.

One of your many odd jobs included the janitorial field. Not only did you not complain and whine about having to do things like this for money... But you drew pictures and wrote slogans of marketing techniques in your journal.

There is no such thing as a wannabe rock star today who would be caught dead with a mop in hand to make ends meet.

You were the real deal, weren't you?

I am trying my hardest to make connections to get my stuff read, but at the same time I am resentful towards the people who could help me because they just don't understand all my struggles.

You did. Busboy, janitor, waiter.. Just a few jobs you've held to survive.

I've got a laundry list that you couldn't imagine... And building to it every day. I'm so humiliated by some of them that I refuse to list them aloud.

Security guard, blockbuster video clerk, copy mate, Hawiian Ice maker, electronic sales, parking attendant, flight attendant, ticket agent, receptionist, data entry clerk, essembly line worker, grocery bagger...

The list goes on and on.

But I'm struggling, and I'm eaking by and I'm doing it on my own and I don't know if I'll ever achieve the success in the field. Like you did. And I don't know if I'll ever have peace.

Did you?

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