I really haven't had that exciting of a life. There are a lot of things I wish I would have done, instead of just sitting around and complaining about having a boring life. So I pretty much like to make it up. I'd rather tell a story about somebody else.
--Kurt Cobain
I wish I was like you
Easily amused
Find my nest of salt
Everything is my fault
I'll take all the blame
Aqua seafoam shame
Sunburn with freezeburn
Choking on the ashes of her enemy
All in all is all we are
All in all is all we are
All in all is all we are
All in all is all we are
All in all is all we are
All in all is all we are…
--Nirvana, All Apologies
So Full of Promise
Yami remembers late Nirvana frontman and guitarist Kurt Cobain.
It's Better to Burn out Than to Fade Away
So Full of Promise
April 5, 1994.
I couldn't believe it. When I got the news, I was in shock. Kurt Donald Cobain, lead singer of the grunge band Nirvana, was gone. He had shot himself in the head with a shotgun.
How could this happen? I asked myself.
I, Yami Yugi, lowered my head in deep respect for Kurt, the candle cradled in my hands glowing. It was the day of his funeral, April 10, 1994.
My amethyst eyes were filled with tears as memories of him flew through my head like a swan through the sky.
Kurt was so full of promise. He knew how to play a guitar. He had a daughter, Frances Bean. And even fatherhood couldn't chase away those demons inside him. Then as his widow, Courtney Love, spoke, I remembered.
It was April 8, 1994.
I was walking over to the potted plant where the police had told me the suicide note was.
I picked it up and read it.
It said,
To Boddah,
Speaking from the tongue of an experienced simpleton who obviously would rather be an emasculated, infantile complain-ee, this note should be pretty easy to understand.
All the warnings from the punk rock 101 courses over the years, since my first introduction to the, shall we say, ethics involved with independence and the embracement of your community has proven to be very true. I haven't felt the excitement of listening to as well as creating music along with reading and writing for too many years now. I feel guilty beyond words about these things.
For example when we're backstage and the lights go out and the manic roar of the crowds begins, it doesn't affect me the way in which it did for Freddie Mercury, who seemed to love and relish in the the love and adoration from the crowd which is something I totally admire and envy.
The fact is, I can't fool you, any one of you. It simply isn't fair to you or me. The worst crime I can think of would be to rip people off by faking it and pretending as if I'm having 100 fun. Sometimes I feel as if I should have a punch-in time clock before I walk out on stage. I've tried everything within my power to appreciate it (and I do, God, believe me I do, but it's not enough).
I appreciate the fact that I and we have affected and entertained a lot of people. It must be one of those narcissists who only appreciate things when they're gone. I'm too sensitive. I need to be slightly numb in order to regain the enthusiasms I once had as a child.
On our last 3 tours, I've had a much better appreciation for all the people I've known personally, and as fans of our music, but I still can't get over the frustration, the guilt and empathy I have for everyone. There's good in all of us and I think I simply love people too much, so much that it makes me feel too fucking sad. The sad little, sensitive, unappreciative, Pisces, Jesus man. Why don't you just enjoy it? I don't know!
I have a goddess of a wife who sweats ambition and empathy and a daughter who reminds me too much of what I used to be, full of love and joy, kissing every person she meets because everyone is good and will do her no harm.
And that terrifies me to the point to where I can barely function. I can't stand the thought of Frances becoming the miserable, self-destructive, death rocker that I've become.
I have it good, very good, and I'm grateful, but since the age of seven, I've become hateful towards all humans in general. Only because it seems so easy for people to get along that have empathy. Only because I love and feel sorry for people too much, I guess.
Thank you all from the pit of my burning, nauseous stomach for your letters and concern during the past years. I'm too much of an erratic, moody baby! I don't have the passion anymore, and so remember, it's better to burn out than to fade away.
Peace, love, empathy.
Kurt Cobain
Frances and Courtney, I'll be at your alter.
Please keep going Courtney, for Frances.
For her life, which will be so much happier without me.
I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU!
I felt the tears welling up in my eyes again as I walked up to Courtney.
She looked at me.
"Hey, Yami," she said.
Her voice was tinged with grief and tears. She had been reading parts of the suicide note. My heart filled with grief and sadness also.
I would miss Kurt. He was, according to some, a nice guy who didn't like fame. To be more precise, he had trouble adjusting to it.
I wish I was like you
Easily amused
Find my nest of salt
Everything is my fault
I'll take all the blame
Aqua seafoam shame
Sunburn with freezeburn
Choking on the ashes of her enemy
All in all is all we are
All in all is all we are
All in all is all we are
All in all is all we are
All in all is all we are
All in all is all we are…
I knew that Kurt Cobain is dead, but I also hope that he found the peace he never had in life.
Some nights now, I come to the places where his ashes are scattered, and I light a candle. The flame flickers, and I remember…
I remember his spirit. It will live on forever.
I remember his music. It will not be forgotten.
It's better to burn out than to fade away.
Well, Kurt, I hope you found your Nirvana…
‹ Summary
♠ ♠ ♠
In loving memory of Kurt Donald Cobain.
(February 20, 1967 – c. April 5, 1994)
You are missed terribly and deeply.