Dear Kurdt,
I am high, in the clouds of peaceful bliss.... And I thought of you more today than I have in months -- even when I'm shredding your Teen Spirit from my own hands.
I looked through pictures... Stared... And stared some more at those beautiful blue eyes you once possessed. You looked like a sad, lost soul on the verge of becoming a lost angel.
But then I turned to your sweet image as you held on to hour first born baby girl, your eyes smiled into the camera... And it's apparent -- you would never, ever make a decision to leave her side.
You wrote about it in your journals, you spoke of it on the news. It's been exactly seventeen years and your songs are still sung, your heart is still felt, and your spirit continues to linger -- and then soar.
Remember that we are still here. We still care. And you are never forgotten. You deserved so much more than they gave you. And one day you will have your revenge.
Peace. Love. Empathy.<3
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
Friday, December 3, 2010
Dear Kurt,
It has been almost two months since my last entry and I feel as though I'm neglecting you. Neglecting a dead guy. What a riot.
I was scanning through the stations on a television last week, and I fell on your "Behind the Music" episode. I could only bare to watch for about 4 full minutes at the editing of the show. With all its glory to prove exactly how suicidal you were, made me cringe.
Life puzzles me. Every aspect. As one of my favorite bands say in one of my favorite songs of theirs (I refuse to mention their name or you would cringe) --
"Some...live the lap of luxury where everything goes right. And some... Live so painfully another day -- another fight."
The only question is --
Who decides?
Peace. Love. Empathy.
It has been almost two months since my last entry and I feel as though I'm neglecting you. Neglecting a dead guy. What a riot.
I was scanning through the stations on a television last week, and I fell on your "Behind the Music" episode. I could only bare to watch for about 4 full minutes at the editing of the show. With all its glory to prove exactly how suicidal you were, made me cringe.
Life puzzles me. Every aspect. As one of my favorite bands say in one of my favorite songs of theirs (I refuse to mention their name or you would cringe) --
"Some...live the lap of luxury where everything goes right. And some... Live so painfully another day -- another fight."
The only question is --
Who decides?
Peace. Love. Empathy.
Thursday, October 14, 2010
Dear Kurt,
I was really wasted when I wrote that last entry. I'm a little ashamed, as I don't mean to take a bullet wound to the head as a joking matter.
I have a few people who I've actually had the chance to effect with a few of my youtube videos that I've made on your behalf. And they've thanked me.
It's all I can do. Just like the flyers in Seattle. I've done what I can. And I love you. Peace.
I was really wasted when I wrote that last entry. I'm a little ashamed, as I don't mean to take a bullet wound to the head as a joking matter.
I have a few people who I've actually had the chance to effect with a few of my youtube videos that I've made on your behalf. And they've thanked me.
It's all I can do. Just like the flyers in Seattle. I've done what I can. And I love you. Peace.
Friday, September 24, 2010
Dear Kurt,
Did you really want to die? Was your heart that broken? Because I am... Once again... Crying from anguish, alone. In a hotel room. As always, I picture a gunshot wound to my head.
And as I'm nobody... To no one... The death would barely flutter an eyelash. And that feels fucking great as a human being!! Ya know????
I just wanna film my fucking movie on a.2 dollar budget. You think that's possible?? Fuck yeah.
Peace. Love. Empathy.
Did you really want to die? Was your heart that broken? Because I am... Once again... Crying from anguish, alone. In a hotel room. As always, I picture a gunshot wound to my head.
And as I'm nobody... To no one... The death would barely flutter an eyelash. And that feels fucking great as a human being!! Ya know????
I just wanna film my fucking movie on a.2 dollar budget. You think that's possible?? Fuck yeah.
Peace. Love. Empathy.
Dear Kurt,
Did you really want to die? Was your heart that broken? Because I am... Once again... Crying from anguish, alone. In a hotel room. As always, I picture a gunshot wound to my head.
And as I'm nobody... To no one... The death would barely flutter an eyelash. And that feels fucking great as a human being!! Ya know????
I just wanna film my fucking movie on a.2 dollar budget. You think that's possible?? Fuck yeah.
Peace. Love. Empathy.
Did you really want to die? Was your heart that broken? Because I am... Once again... Crying from anguish, alone. In a hotel room. As always, I picture a gunshot wound to my head.
And as I'm nobody... To no one... The death would barely flutter an eyelash. And that feels fucking great as a human being!! Ya know????
I just wanna film my fucking movie on a.2 dollar budget. You think that's possible?? Fuck yeah.
Peace. Love. Empathy.
Thursday, September 2, 2010
There is no place for strangers in passion.
Dear Kurt,
Well it turns out, not many people seem to care about your death anymore. It's yesterday's news and I did what I could to bring it back. But it's not enough.
Maybe if I had friends in high places I could make a difference. So a certain musician keeps pointing out. Life or something like it only happens when people love you. Or at least like you. I've never had that power. To get people to just... Like me.
Such is life.
Cheers.
Well it turns out, not many people seem to care about your death anymore. It's yesterday's news and I did what I could to bring it back. But it's not enough.
Maybe if I had friends in high places I could make a difference. So a certain musician keeps pointing out. Life or something like it only happens when people love you. Or at least like you. I've never had that power. To get people to just... Like me.
Such is life.
Cheers.
Sunday, August 22, 2010
Welcome to Seattle.
Dear Kurt,
A few days ago I got back from Seattle where I spent a few hours hanging the flyers in hopes that your case will be re-opened.
I hung them sporadically and randomly. Hoping that I would be granted enough sunshine for a few days for people to read them.
I watched one man approach as we walked away, a glimmer of satisfaction in my heart that hopefully, your soul, through my hands, would be granted peace of mind.
Another girl saw your photo on the page as she passed and said, "Wait. What about Kurt Cobain? Can I have one of those to read?"
It felt good to feel as though people still care. Later that night I hung one outside the bar where I was drinking, and later I casually stepped outside for a cigarette. I watched as a guy approached the poster and read it from start to finish.
My heart soared with satisfaction. Just the idea of reminding people of your beautiful soul sixteen years later. A soul that had no intention of being remembered as some suicide statistic.
In the span of two days... I visited your birthplace... And the place of your death. And as I taped the flyer to the bench on your old property -- staring up at the window of the house where your life was claimed...
My heart broke. I took a few puffs from my smoke before I crushed it out on the ground -- and noticed all the other cigarettes smoked in that exact location. All the people who came to pay their respects to a man we could all relate to, smoking those cigarettes in contemplation asking themselves why?
Asking why... Why you, Kurt?
Why you?
Peace, Love, Empathy,
Justice Seeker
A few days ago I got back from Seattle where I spent a few hours hanging the flyers in hopes that your case will be re-opened.
I hung them sporadically and randomly. Hoping that I would be granted enough sunshine for a few days for people to read them.
I watched one man approach as we walked away, a glimmer of satisfaction in my heart that hopefully, your soul, through my hands, would be granted peace of mind.
Another girl saw your photo on the page as she passed and said, "Wait. What about Kurt Cobain? Can I have one of those to read?"
It felt good to feel as though people still care. Later that night I hung one outside the bar where I was drinking, and later I casually stepped outside for a cigarette. I watched as a guy approached the poster and read it from start to finish.
My heart soared with satisfaction. Just the idea of reminding people of your beautiful soul sixteen years later. A soul that had no intention of being remembered as some suicide statistic.
In the span of two days... I visited your birthplace... And the place of your death. And as I taped the flyer to the bench on your old property -- staring up at the window of the house where your life was claimed...
My heart broke. I took a few puffs from my smoke before I crushed it out on the ground -- and noticed all the other cigarettes smoked in that exact location. All the people who came to pay their respects to a man we could all relate to, smoking those cigarettes in contemplation asking themselves why?
Asking why... Why you, Kurt?
Why you?
Peace, Love, Empathy,
Justice Seeker
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)