I was not a Nirvana fan. I heard Pearl Jam first, went from there to Alice in Chains, and only knew Nirvana’s biggest hits. And I have no idea where I was when I heard Cobain was dead. I know exactly where I was when I heard about Rick Allen’s car accident (New Year’s Eve, back seat of Ken’s car; Ken and Stephanie up front) and I’m pretty sure I remember where I was when I heard about Steve Clark (top of Mom’s basement stairs, on phone with Jayson), but Kurt? No idea.
Yet I have the issues of Rolling Stone and (I think) Time that devote their covers to his death. His death somehow brought it home to me that a person can be living their dream, financially secure, happily married and parenting…a person can have it all and still want to escape. Still want to get out of their own head. Still not be okay alone inside his own skin.
I didn’t know it then, but in the spring of ‘94 I was circling the drain. A year later the flashing lights went on behind me; I got clean (for good, so far) in January of ‘96. I’m living a couple of my less dynamic dreams and I still miss using sometimes but know that ultimately, peace is an inside job. Kurt’s death was the first time I honestly started to believe that.
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Kurt was a genius and a very empathetic, caring guy. It's really too bad. A cautionary tale, to be sure. He is missed. I can't help but wonder how his music would have continued to evolve and progress, had he lived.
R.I.P., Kurt!
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