Wish me luck, I know you think I'll need it.

We are all apprentices in a craft where no one becomes a master.

Another Night in Memphis

Rode the hound into Memphis but I missed my connection
Ain’t it funny how you can’t stop moving when you got no direction
I ramble and roll and ask God for purpose
I’d ask a pretty girl if they didn’t make me nervous
I only wanted to make my folks proud
I only wanted my words to draw a crowd
But in the end Mother Earth will always show you what you’re worth
(You ain’t worth the ground you walk on)
I guess another night in Memphis will do me good
(I do a lot of guessing)

Tennessee keeps telling me
That if I lived here I would be
Home now
And it’s tempting cause I
Ain’t been back since I said goodbye
Another young poet with his eyes on the sky
The livin is easy out on the road
A lesson taught, a battle fought
And you never reap the evil you have sowed
But little did I know
Your soul is the cost
When you pay to stay lost
I guess another night in Memphis will do me good

They say home is where the heart is
But I gave it away so long ago
I planted my heart in her garden and hoped love would grow
A borrowed rhyme, a stolen line
Another sorry tale of love to make everything fine
I’m tired of trying to make success mine
Can’t I just be enough?
I’ll never find peace until I let go of these tired dreams
I tried to tell the stories, they so needed to hear
But it seems
They will never be understood
I guess another night in Memphis will do me good

I’d rather be hated for who I am, than loved for who I am not.

—Kurt Cobain

Twenty years ago, Kurt Cobain was found dead from a self-inflicted gunshot wound to the head. I remember feeling lost and confused. In Cobain and Nirvana I had a voice that could process the pain of being misunderstood, of expressing aggression and anger without misogyny, ego or machismo. He was the one who’d found a way to process the chaff and frustration, and yet he’d succumbed to it, and despite a beautiful and caring last note, he felt the only way to truly deal with the pain was to end his life.

I had a very hard time processing his death. I couldn’t cry because I was angry at him. I felt betrayed by a man I’d never met, but whose art would help define who I would eventually become. He, like so many of my heroes, was unafraid to point the middle finger at the tormentors of the young, the quiet, the different. He fought off bullies of many sorts with his words, his ideas, his sandpaper growl, his art. And yet he collapsed.

After some time, his death imparted another valuable lesson, one which guides me to this day. Kurt Cobain, for all his success, his achievements, his otherworldly talents and his vision, Kurt Cobain was just a man. He was flesh and bone, made plenty of mistakes, and had fears and doubts just like anyone else. His death not only killed my hero-worship, it also obliterated any want or desire for celebrity.

Celebrity, whose etymology derives from the Latin celibritatem, or multitudes of fame, is a poison that corrupts the integrity of a man. It froths all that is superficial and covers fears, flaws and all those things which make us real. It is a dam withholding troubled waters. In our current times, celebrity worship has reached unprecedented levels, where the admiration of plastic constructs like Kardashians, anti-vaccination bimbos or the Royal Family not only perpetuate lies on what construes a normal, complete life (nobody is fabulous, rich, skinny, perfect, happy and gets what they want ALL the time, if ever) but also poisons us with disappointment in our own flaws, which many times aren’t even flaws at all. Celebrity not only foments envy, but chisels insecurity into our bones, to the point of self-destruction and self-mutilation.

The day Kurt Cobain died was the day I understood how beautifully fucked up life is, how immensely complex it is, and how it can never be appreciated fully through a filter of celebrity perfection. It forever changed my interactions with people and how I did business later in my life. I see no one as being more important than the other, we are all flawed, we are all scared, we are all actively making mistakes and we should help one another to solve them, rather than being judgmental of our failures and envious of our successes, which is the very core of celebrity. The saddest part of Cobain’s death was that, despite having friends who loved him dearly, he died alone and in tremendous pain, and it is a thought that brings immense sadness to my soul.

The quote above demonstrates Cobain’s struggle with celebrity, and the best way to honor his death is to love him for being human, for being a real man, and not just for the art he made, which moved so many of a generation in a personal way. I remember, clear as day, the moment Kurt Cobain came into my life, as I recently wrote on my Facebook page:

"I got this EP for my 14th birthday. Wax Trax records in Denver, on Capitol Hill. Compact disc issued by Tupelo, discount marked down written in Sharpie on the case. Threw it on my dad’s CD player and THIS bassline changed my life forever. I couldn’t dance to it, all I could do was pound my fist into my chest and thrash my head. Mom was worried, but she also saw that I was happy. I’d connected."

(via lilithfilm)

If it’s the beaches
If it’s the beaches’ sands you want
Then you will have them
If it’s the mountains’ bending rivers
Then you will have them
If it’s the wish to run away
Then I will grant it
Take whatever what you think of
While I go gas up the truck
Pack the old love letters up
We will read them when we forget why we left here

—If it’s the Beaches (The Avett Brothers)

(Source: ohmylaird, via magpie-on-a-wire)

Gone

I’m sorry my poems were always shit
I promise I really can’t help it
They sound so good in my head
The way you look lying in my bed
Don’t look now, it is gone

Pretty little liar
The sad ghost choir
Sings your memory tonight
And I can almost see the light
Don’t look now, it is gone

You asked how long it would last
Before we were ash and a part of some tragic and beautiful past
But I asked how long is eternity
That’s all I was thinking when you were looking at me
Don’t look now, it is gone

I’ve been dreaming of leaving since my birth
How about you?
I know you’re no different than me, my friend in blue
What was all the rambling really worth?
Are we too restless to inherit the earth?
Is it our destiny to wander,
Until we reach the great blue yonder?
Will you give me one last kiss,
Before we throw our selves into the abyss?
Love will kill me in time
And I will let it
My blood is on the street
The puddles of red beneath your feet
And you’re hands aren’t clean
There isn’t much to live for
This is as good as any I’ve seen
Don’t look now, it is gone

Back when my heart was new
I always said I’d like to meet a girl that was sad like me and when I do
I’d call her my friend in blue
That sad girl was you
You filled the void nothing else would
And I’d chase after you if only I could
But I’m tired from these torn out heart blues
Ever since you put on your worn out leaving shoes
Love was here once, but don’t look now
No,
Don’t look now, it went away with the coming dawn
Don’t look now, it is gone




"There were sounds in my head, little voices whisperin’" - Missy Higgins

"There were sounds in my head, little voices whisperin’" - Missy Higgins

(via acomas)

  • someone doesn't reply
  • paranoia : you're annoying them, they hate you, stop talking to them you obsessive bitch.

Passive Spectator

Mother isn’t well
And the country has gone to hell
What is there to do?
Pull up a chair and watch the world go by

That fella pretends to know more than he does
And this girl is ashamed of who she was
How can you tell the charlatans from the martyrs?
Stay right there and watch the world go by

Some love to talk
Some love to do
And all people love to talk about what it is they do
But few have the stomach to watch how the end is seen through

Since the beginning of time
There’s been talkers and doers
But the watchers
Yes the passive spectators are the only ones with something worth saying

If you really want to know
If you truly hope to learn
Forget yourself and just watch the world turn

You will see the hope and the good and the love that’s in the air

But it will not be yours in which to share

You will watch as they celebrate the good days
And you will know their crooked ways
You will watch their hate manifest into one terrible fate
And you can be free from the suffering and pain

But only they can know both the sunshine and the rain

This life I lead is not my hope for you
Yes, it’s void of any bad things but without it the good just isn’t true

Go and walk your road
Please be weary of the story that I told
The time that passes with your every breath
Pushes you closer to that bitch we call death
There’s trouble waiting everywhere

But don’t forget about the love that’s in the air

Sweet Blue Eyes

Oh, the good times and the pain
Oh, the sunshine and the rain
What is there to do
when you’ve left me feeling blue?
I’ve searched but haven’t found any answer
This void is worse than any cancer

Don’t your sweet blue eyes have any place better to be than my bad dreams?