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, July 11, 2010

Ten dollar tickets?? I'll play for two minutes....

Dear Kurt,

Last night I dreamt I made out with John Frusciante. Then I woke up and realized he is no dream. Tonight I dreamt I was in another plane crash. Why?

I love how popular musicians today believe that they have the right to cover your music. As if they even have half the soul in their entire body that you contained in your little pinky finger. Call that metaphor a cliche, but it's true.

There are two types of people trying to make it in music and film. Only two.

The ones who know nothing about struggle... Who just fell into their success...

And the ones who work their live long asses off to succeed... And rarely do because their (we're) too busy working our live long asses off making ends meet to put the full effort into our passion.

So the ones who end up succeeding most are spoiled with their success, too busy taking it for granted rather than appreciating it... And lacking the soul it truly takes to... Hurt. And suffer. Because they know no pain.

I don't know if I will ever escape my resentment towards the ones who live their dreams with no struggle. The politically correct society we live in today tells us that we, as "good" people, are to be pleasant towards another's accomplishments. But that's complete and utter bullshit.

If there is a single person who can honestly sit back when another achieves what they long to achieve with an honest "congratulations, I'm happy for you. Better you than me!" Than we are living in a warped world.

We are all human. And is our duty to ourselves as human-beings to put ourselves first. In everything. Even our happiness. It's our liberty as Americans. -- "And the pursuit of happiness...." Was that ingrained in our pledge because we reserved the right to be happy for our neighbor's successes?? No. Our own.

I have no more guilt. No more guilt for wanting to achieve a level of success and happiness that suits me, for me... and me alone. Fuck everybody. This is my goddamn life, and I want to live it the way I feel is my way. And when I die, I will know that I did everything in my power to find my own personal "pursuit of happiness...." because when you're busy living for everyone else's happiness... well... nothing matters when your life ends but what you put in it -- for you.

And the world goes on. So no more guilt. Every person has a damn right to be selfish. I'm finally understanding that. Writing the types of scripts I've written I have, essentially, trained myself to be overly thoughtful towards others, to empathize with these characters that I'm creating. But I'm not a saint. And I'm done trying to cater to this desire I have to convey strong, moral messages. Done.

Fuck the messages. And Fuck everyone. Especially the assholes who live on their high-horses covering your songs. They don't deserve to be the shit on the bottom of your converse sneakers.

Peace... Love.... Empathy.

You know the rest.

"If I fail, If I succeed, atleast I've lived as I believe."

1 comment:

Wendyy. said...

amazing posts. Nice to see someone gives a fuck about kurt(: