Kurdt
I am one of those crazy fans. I'm one of those people that thinks they can see through to the real and true person, not just the celebrity. I look at his picture now, and I wonder.
I have the notion that if I had been around and met him, we would have been friends. We would have shared some deep connection over music, the weight of the world... These thoughts are the very things he despised about his fame. People all over the world perceiving they knew things about him. He seemed so tortured. What he wanted, tortured him. The fame, the fortune. The relationships. The drugs.
As I read all the biographies I can find, I wonder now, if I would have actually allowed myself to know the person before the fame. Before the photo shoots and interviews. The unfamous person, that who by all accounts of social standards was a lazy bum that wouldn't keep a job, and for a period of time would get high off of anything that could possibly cause the effect. The unfamous person, who had a tulmultous and divided family, who moved out and slept wherever he could squat, then finally on his own, living in shacks and dirty apartments. With usually, someone always there as a companion or someone to take care of him.
I was surprised and enchanted to read that through his feuding family ties, he ended up living with a friend's family for a time and they called themselves Christians and appeared to live the lifestyle. He took to them, went to church with them, even proclaiming he gave his life to Jesus. He felt love and acceptance. I read.
Why that didn't last, no one knows but him. And God.
It was like he didn't think he deserved it.
I quickly read that he soon renounced his previous proclamations and fell back into old habits. He would even say he hated God, but people close to him were quoted as saying they thought he still believed.
For some reason, that little tidbit, that probably was even half a sentence in the biography, gave me hope for him. He is 18 years dead this year, dead by his own hand, but I just hoped that one little sliver of light saved him.
I think people want or think they can relate to him because he was a true artist. He created tirelessly. His own worst critic. The last statement, something I can relate to as a writer. We are all pretty hard on ourselves. We all have some brooding in our personalities. Some use for solitude. Seeing things in our own light. Somewhat rebellious. Humble.
He was childlike. Caring for animals. Shy with girls. Sweet disposition most of the time. His life took a darker turn once the heiron was more than a daily occurence.
I continue to read. I will know him as well as I can.
Probably for as long as God allows this world to turn, people will be fascinated by him and what he did with music. I am always fascinated by the backstories. The biographies... His life didn't start as anything spectacular. And the only drive, the only thing that seemed to give him any sort of self-worth, a glimmer of self-love and responsibility was his music. He pushed his bandmates, he pushed the record label, he pushed the limits. Nearly 25 years after he first began fronting a band, I am still listening. I just thought to myself where all my albums are in my house and my first thing I plan to do when I get home is pop in the Unplugged album and listen to the live version of "About a Girl," that I just read was actually written...about a girl. The girl that loved and supported him emotionally and financially through the early years. He was too shy to tell her it was really about her at the time.
Then I want to hear again "Where did you Sleep Last Night," one of the Leadbelly covers the band performed over the years.
Then I'll put in In Utero, because I didn't realize it was the last album Nirvana ever recorded. I was young when they were mainstream. But I do remember buying Nevermind in 1994, and getting back in the car and trying to hide it from my mom so she wouldn't see the naked baby on the cover. Ten years later, whenver his journals were first published, my mother gave me the book for Christmas and inscribed it. When I heard the criticism about the published journals being voyeuristic, I agreed, as I was a crazy fan. But I just knew that if he was alive and knew me, he wouldn't mind if I read his inner most thoughts.....He would trust me. He could trust me.
He'd of been 45 this past February if he were alive. I wonder if he would still be married to Courtney Love. If his daughter would be happier-looking in her photos, having had her dad in her life. Now, my wonderment turns to her. One of the remaining connections he has with this world. Frances Bean and his music live on today.
My jumbled up, rushed words. Never will they ever be as poignant or beautiful as his.
(paraphrases and summations of quotes from Heavier than Heaven by Charles Cross)
I have the notion that if I had been around and met him, we would have been friends. We would have shared some deep connection over music, the weight of the world... These thoughts are the very things he despised about his fame. People all over the world perceiving they knew things about him. He seemed so tortured. What he wanted, tortured him. The fame, the fortune. The relationships. The drugs.
As I read all the biographies I can find, I wonder now, if I would have actually allowed myself to know the person before the fame. Before the photo shoots and interviews. The unfamous person, that who by all accounts of social standards was a lazy bum that wouldn't keep a job, and for a period of time would get high off of anything that could possibly cause the effect. The unfamous person, who had a tulmultous and divided family, who moved out and slept wherever he could squat, then finally on his own, living in shacks and dirty apartments. With usually, someone always there as a companion or someone to take care of him.
I was surprised and enchanted to read that through his feuding family ties, he ended up living with a friend's family for a time and they called themselves Christians and appeared to live the lifestyle. He took to them, went to church with them, even proclaiming he gave his life to Jesus. He felt love and acceptance. I read.
Why that didn't last, no one knows but him. And God.
It was like he didn't think he deserved it.
I quickly read that he soon renounced his previous proclamations and fell back into old habits. He would even say he hated God, but people close to him were quoted as saying they thought he still believed.
For some reason, that little tidbit, that probably was even half a sentence in the biography, gave me hope for him. He is 18 years dead this year, dead by his own hand, but I just hoped that one little sliver of light saved him.
I think people want or think they can relate to him because he was a true artist. He created tirelessly. His own worst critic. The last statement, something I can relate to as a writer. We are all pretty hard on ourselves. We all have some brooding in our personalities. Some use for solitude. Seeing things in our own light. Somewhat rebellious. Humble.
He was childlike. Caring for animals. Shy with girls. Sweet disposition most of the time. His life took a darker turn once the heiron was more than a daily occurence.
I continue to read. I will know him as well as I can.
Probably for as long as God allows this world to turn, people will be fascinated by him and what he did with music. I am always fascinated by the backstories. The biographies... His life didn't start as anything spectacular. And the only drive, the only thing that seemed to give him any sort of self-worth, a glimmer of self-love and responsibility was his music. He pushed his bandmates, he pushed the record label, he pushed the limits. Nearly 25 years after he first began fronting a band, I am still listening. I just thought to myself where all my albums are in my house and my first thing I plan to do when I get home is pop in the Unplugged album and listen to the live version of "About a Girl," that I just read was actually written...about a girl. The girl that loved and supported him emotionally and financially through the early years. He was too shy to tell her it was really about her at the time.
Then I want to hear again "Where did you Sleep Last Night," one of the Leadbelly covers the band performed over the years.
Then I'll put in In Utero, because I didn't realize it was the last album Nirvana ever recorded. I was young when they were mainstream. But I do remember buying Nevermind in 1994, and getting back in the car and trying to hide it from my mom so she wouldn't see the naked baby on the cover. Ten years later, whenver his journals were first published, my mother gave me the book for Christmas and inscribed it. When I heard the criticism about the published journals being voyeuristic, I agreed, as I was a crazy fan. But I just knew that if he was alive and knew me, he wouldn't mind if I read his inner most thoughts.....He would trust me. He could trust me.
He'd of been 45 this past February if he were alive. I wonder if he would still be married to Courtney Love. If his daughter would be happier-looking in her photos, having had her dad in her life. Now, my wonderment turns to her. One of the remaining connections he has with this world. Frances Bean and his music live on today.
My jumbled up, rushed words. Never will they ever be as poignant or beautiful as his.
(paraphrases and summations of quotes from Heavier than Heaven by Charles Cross)