“..rather be hated for who i am than loved for who i am not…”

“To Boddah
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 guity 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 don’t 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.
Kurt Cobain
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! “

Coloreaza-mi tacerea..

Ne-chef

Acum mi-aş dori să-mi pot pune caietul sub pernă şi să mă culc.. iar a doua zi să ştiu tot pe de rost(prea multe desene animate..), pentru că, nu ştiu cum se face, dar de fiecare dată când încerc să memorez vreo lecţie, parcă se scurge şi ultima picatură de chef din mine, mă apucă somul, foamea, pişarea, durerea de ceva, setea, pofta de calculator, ingheţată sau orice altceva.. Şi e enervant, pentru că nu-mi dau seama când trece timpul, şi rămâne “pe data viitoare”. Astfel, eu rămân de fiecare dată în urmă cu materia.. Şi mă mir de ce atunci când se mai trânteşte câte-o lucrărică.. pampam.

Daaaaar.. într-un weekend plin de soare, o să dea buzna peste mine un chef de învaţaaaaaat.. şi-atunci o să vedeţi voooi. Până atunci, mai incerc chestia cu caietul sub pernă. Nu poţi şti niciodata.

Peace, love and all that shit.

Let it be

Let it be, let it be, let it be, let it be… Whisper words of wisdom, let it be.

Apusurile primaverii mi se par cele mai expresive, ele imbie la calm si stari euforice de visare. “Visez enorm, colorat in dementa, am in vis senzatii pe care nu le incerc niciodata in realitate.” Norii rosietici se impletesc cu verdele crud, proaspat si formeaza entitati cu suflet, te lasa sa le-admiri pret de cateva clipe unice, apoi se evapora si-ti lasa imprimate amintiri calde.

Ascultam o melodie trista, imbiindu-mi sufletul sa primeasca, intr-un fel sau altul, caldura aceasta ce lasa mereu un gust dulce-amarui. Dulce-amarui pentru ca atmosfera creata de paleta jucausa si linistea cerului rascolesc inevitabil amintiri ce credeam ca … le-am pierdut, prinsa in recele cotidianului gri. La fel cum crezusem ca mi-am pierdut culorile. Pale, obscure, puternice, scanteietoare, obsedante, discrete, calme, agresive, dulci, culorile s-au imprastiat pe panza serii, si vor fi pastrate pentru a oferi si-altuia spectacolul lor special, unic.

In astfel de clipe incare haosul meu mi-e necuonscut sau chiar indiferent, atunci, abia atunci, simt ca-s eu. Eu, cea fara complexe, temeri sau griji.

And when the night is cloudy, there is still a light, that shines on me, shine until tomorrow, let it be.