I am taking this blog a little off course tonight into the world of music. Warning: This is going to be a big. Depend on individual’s reading capacity. Here it goes anyway.
I grew up in the era where Michel Jackson murdered and Steve Jobes died because of a rare form of pancreatic cancer. Mindy McCready, Freeddy E… (Chances are high, May be you don’t know. I do!) committed suicide. I didn’t even born when Nirvana, Pearl Jam, Stone Temple Pilots, Nine Inch Nails, and many more bands exploded on the scene. For some, music is that which comes nearest to silence in terms of expressing the inexpressible; for others it’s more like their body parts, like their ribs, kidneys, veins, or even the (one and only!) heart! Well what I’m trying to put through is Music has been, is and perhaps will always be the only thing that gives soul to the universe at large, gives wings to our mind, flights to our imagination and the only true sense of freedom from the haywire world of ours. However, human beings that devote themselves to this art of making human emotions audible, also get caught in worldly matters of family, love & life (because it’s part of theirs, our, all’s life. Isn’t it?!); some pursue the path to the unknown, in order to find out what the mysteries of nature and the universe have in store and distant themselves from the world in a quest to crack-open the unattainable like it’s no big deal!
In such times, as any other human would do these talented artists/creators spiral down into depression, finding refuge in alcohol, cigarettes, abusing drugs and getting hooked onto them for long, as it somehow makes them feel more than secure. As this continues, they tend to live in a little world of their own making and don’t even bother about what happens outside that illusory paradise. That’s how some find their way to enlightenment, spirituality and break on through to the other side; however some… and some of the bests in fact just kill themselves or so to say have killed themselves pointlessly, assuming they shouldn’t be alive anymore. Yes, as weird as that sounds, it has happened many of times in history and will continue in future.
Whatever it is, that goes through their heads at that moment of truth; it sure as hell isn’t a pretty sight. But we continues to choose it just like it heaven. May be because just kill self who the hell cares where are you (True that?).
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 guilty 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 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.
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!
You just read a suicide note of Kurt Cobain a music god, and the symbol of the alternative age. It is that statement that inspired this blog and I’m writing this piece on his 21st death anniversary. The man is not with this music freak generation. Touched with his statement “A friend is nothing but a known enemy”. His suicide note is addressed to Boddah: He had an imaginary friend! In fact, we all have. We just refuse to confess.
The man took his life right smack in the middle of his insane success. I’m not even born when he hit their p-articular albums becomes hits but I came to know about this man by his art and hearing his voice, through his music. Because of those factors the world makes him golden, the perfect artist, a tragic figure who forever lives pristine in his (still) fans memories. Still young, still popular, still at the top of his game. And just a 27! The factual evidence of Kurt Cobain was as a child, as a teenager, as a man, as a husband, as an artist. For generation of ours, I only want to say a sentence We will never know what Kurt would have done. and we just can’t make that assumption.
Imagine a world where Kurt Cobain, Michel Jackson and so many other artists were still making music, what would music sound like by him today? It is not that people stop being who they were when they are young, but instead they evolve in a way only living life can change you. They explored every single aspect of who they were as a human being.
Things we do when a star burns out to soon, we turn them into Gods. Forever Golden, always rebelling against the system, always young, and just perfect in our memories.
“If there’s a God then He’s calling me back home. This barrel never felt so good next to my dome. It’s cold & I’d rather die than live alone.”
Some stated that they were “was murdered.” We’ve revolutionary musicians that catapulted and pole-shifted the culture that existed in their times but unfortunately committed suicide a little too early in their career, “before their time”.
Kurt Cobain: The man who sold the world, Endless, Nameless, the Never-minded and Heavier than heaven.
What I’m trying to say here is all of them cherished their and our lives, that’s why they made a perfect example to the world, of everything each of them wanted to be.
Moral of the story, we should start doing the same!