kurt cobain’s cardigan


this photo could be from the night, which we spent at the waterfront together. but it’s not. I came home late a few hours, and didn’t mind. my heart was full but you never called again. unspoken memories, undecided minds. I am not sure what I would do if I saw again. ignore you, comes to mind. or maybe I am just too bitter and too disappointed. who knows. it’s a strange morning. it feels like late afternoon, I only woke up a few minutes ago. my mind is heavy. pulsating. but words keep coming to me. I could never stop that. things remind me of things, which remind me of this, which then remind me of something else. it’s always been like that. the thought process and the end of it. and the fact that you’re up here doesn’t help at all.

the kid who had a heart is back to being my daily constant. it always amazes me the power of instinct, the strength of his voice and the difference between drummers on each album. they have been with me too long now I am not really able to abandon them for some new age so-called independent bands of late 00s. it’s been a strange day. I started writing this little piece in the morning only to leave it open until the evening. I was late for school, with a headache and thought none of it matters. but it actually kind of does. I am drinking my late night coffee, a triple latte, listening to demo versions of nirvana’s songs. most of them recorded in his living room. there’s something poetic about the bad quality. I am finding poetry everywhere. I am obsessed with my own book of poetry, which I never finished but plan to during the next few weeks. I have many bits and pieces which are waiting for me to tape them together and pretend they have a meaning.

today I wondered why I still bother with being around him, when he doesn’t give a shit.

December 7, 2009