New Year's Eve and it's hard to believe
another zodiac has gone around.

While you drank yourself high on hoping
and watched the ceiling spin from the ground.

Counting down from ten it's time
to make your annual prayer.

Secret santa in the sky
when will I get my share?

Then you tell yourself
what you want to hear.

Cause you have to believe.

This will be my year.

This will be my year...Semisonic


Go Ahead Punk: E-Mail Little Squaw @ squawpunch@hotmail.com

AIM: gimletgurl7 (Remember when she used to be here?)

Wednesday, April 07, 2004

So I had no intention of writing anything about the anniversary about Kurt Cobain's death. It's been done and you probably don't care how I feel about it. Honestly I can't tell you that it even feels relevant to me at this point. In the world we grew up in it was just the sort of thing that you expected to happened. Every generation has its tortured artists and we've lost a few pretty freakin' amazing people along the way. To be honest I think I am still more upset about Douglas Adams dying. In my opinion his books wouldn't have become irrelevant if he kept writing. I can't say the same for Kurt. Passion and angst fueled the flames of his music. In my opinion after the first million dollars what do you really have to complain about? Nothing that I want to hear you say. Now if you're happy and poppy and fill my ears and heart with sugary goodness, well that's another story. Hence my love a band with a name pulled from a Northern New Jersey landmark, which also was something that I passed every time I drove to my future husband's house while we were dating. AND they were the opening act when my future husband got me tickets to see the ultimate object of my desire...Evan Dando.

I have lots of room in my heart for love and joy and giggles and smiles.

I've no time or desire for the clutter of angst and obsession in my heart or in my head. I have enough of the self-produced persuasion to linger in should I choose to do so. Like a lot of people, I've got lots and lots of scribbled pages (worthy of publication if you ask me).

But back to things of Nirvana relation. If I ever wanted to feel "close" to Kurt well those days have passed. The opportunities have been abundant and I have been spoiled and fortunate. I've had the opportunity to work with people who loved and respected him and to some extent helped to propel him into the fame which some might argue helped to destroy him. I had conversations with people who stood in the back of a smoky bars and watched Nirvana bang out the songs that some would claim "shaped" a generation. I've wandered around Seattle and wondered, "Where has all the magic gone"? I saw Hole perform live at the peek of their success under the guise of "Well we have to see her before she too implodes, yes?" I have met Dave Grohl and I have thanked him for making music. I have met enough kids in black t-shirts featuring the image of the a man with sad sad eyes peering out from what ever clouded perspective they were captured in and I have wondered at the creativity of lyrics and of presentation all the while being keenly reminded of what might have been.

Such is life.

But back when it all happened and everyone was beating their drums to cries of, "WHY?" and "WHO?" and "OH WOE IS US!" I was just plain irritated with Rolling Stone. And I actually have a copy of the letter that I wrote to tell them so. They never printed and that was probably the kiss of death for my long love affair with them and my desire to grace their pages with my prose.

As far as the Kurt discussion, that will be it. No more reflection or such for me.

May 27, 1994

Letters Editor
Rolling Stone
1290 Avenue of the Americas
NY, NY 10104-0298

Dear Sirs:

I was both touched and curious when I picked up the June 2nd issue of Rolling Stone devoted mainly to the life of Kurt Cobain. I was touched because I thought that it was honorable for such an icon of rock and roll journalism as Rolling Stone to devote an issue to one of the biggest influences of today's youth. I was curious to see what information it would contain that might help to heal the wound that his tragic suicide has inflicted on many of us. My curiosity was quenched with the first few pages of the articles devoted to him which seemed to be kind reflections on his life, what it was, and what it had become. It was not until I got to the article on p. 35 entitled, "The Downward Spiral" by Neil Strauss that this image was shattered if only by a photograph. It was only a leg and an arm. The photograph was quite obviously the sort that is captured only by a photographer dangling from a tree supported only by his loose moral fiber and his greed for quick cash. I might have been less enraged to find the photograph nestled amongst the pages of a tabloid of the grocery story variety. I would never have thought that Rolling Stone would ever welcome such tabloid journalism. Its impact was so overwhelming, that now instead of reflecting on the downward spiral decline of Kurt Cobain I am left to ponder the "downward spiral" of what used to be one of the most respected music journals in my home.

The image of Kurt Cobain's suicide was vivid and brutal enough in many people's hearts and imaginations. I feel that it was unnecessary for Rolling Stone to throw salt on the wound. I don't believe that the picture added to the article, but rather it decreased its validity. Now I am only thankful that you didn't get a full body picture of Kurt's corpse!

Sincerely,

**** * *****
Not to gloat but I still love the line, "The photograph was quite obviously the sort that is captured only by a photographer dangling from a tree supported only by his loose moral fiber and his greed for quick cash."

That was a particularly favorite phrase of mine at the time, "loose moral fiber."
posted by JustKeepMum on 11:02 PM