kurt_cobain nr there is a certain comfort in being sad. he was right about that. but there is no comfort at all in being depressed. 230410 ... raze jamie told me to read "heavier than heaven". so i did. and maybe there's too much fiction mixed in with the truth of a man's life when the man himself isn't around to say what he saw or unspool the molten mess of his mind. but for the day or two it took me to get through that monochrome tome, i felt like i was right there with him. i think i wanted to be him before i worked out who i was. i remember watching "live! tonight! sold out!!" on vhs in gord's converted shed of a bedroom. kurt sang "come as you are" like he was trying to strangle his own song. tyson said he was strung out, when really he'd just grown to hate his audience as much as he hated himself. i was stoned enough to believe him. all that off-key screaming through a nest of sweat-drenched hair. i saw pain in the place of scorn. that stuck with me. even if it was wrong. i tried to imagine what "you know you're right" sounded like six months before it saw the light of day almost a decade after the fact. i listened to "in utero" on headphones until the drum sound was burned into my brain. i sang a verse from "paper cuts" on a friend's answering_machine and slow danced with myself to "dumb" at nine_ball_heaven after gord choked the jukebox with all the quarters his pockets could carry. i learned kurt bought his first amp with the money he made pawning his stepfather's guns. he dug them out of the aberdeen river his mother threw them in when she found out he was cheating on her. i got the same distortion pedal he favoured. i wore his face on my chest. but i could never make my guitar sound the way his did — like something broken that was trying and failing to piece itself back together. 230412 what's it to you? who go blather from