Kurt Cobain is Dead

Kurt Cobain's journal is no longer at Barnes and Noble.

Kurt Cobain is in hell.  No one can honestly say "he's in a better place" because they know the truth, no matter how much they try to smooth it over.  Such a creative mind turned to waste.  He killed himself so that his daughter wouldn't become someone like him, with all his psychological and emotional aggravations.  How cowardly is that?  His daughter is probably more impaired than she would have been had he not taken his life.  And it doesn't even matter if he hadn't committed suicide because he still would've eventually ended up in hell.  

How do you write a song of such symbolic superiority as "Heart-Shaped Box"?  Tie in personal remarks, poetry, and metaphor with a supportive beat?

Intro

        I have unmistakably come down with a case of nostalgia.  Nostalgia for a time I have never lived, that is.  Is this a possible phenomenon?  Golden Age Thinking.  A longing for life in an earlier time period.  I have always felt it, but of late I have been incredibly drawn to that desire.  70's, 80's, 90's.  Earlier periods as well, but these seem to be the conceivable.  A time of simplicity.  A time when we ran our lives, rather than allowing technology to so actively shape our behavior.  With all the right comforts that technology can provide and without all the excess.  Consumerism is the culprit; we are a culture obsessed with things, things and more things!  We find happiness and satisfaction through TV, video games, iPhones.  But I am not here merely to gripe about technological advancements.  What happened to the wonders of adventure and exploration?  A time when it was safe to run around everywhere as barefoot carefree children.  When fashion wasn't so complicated and character mattered more than how much skin you showed.  When music was rough, raw, and wild.  When the government governed less and the people were less restricted on where they could go and what they could do.  Just when things were easier.   

       No one really understands it.  It is actually interesting to me how different I am from the people around me and how little they understand me.  Sometimes I hear myself screaming internally at them, Don't you see!  How can you be so blind?  And I don't mean that in an arrogant way at all, it's just the truth.  I feel like I have been perpetually stuck in a bubble of people who are essentially all the same.  Oh yes, some of them I consider to be my good friends.  But I think there is only one who truly understands my drive and shares in a lot of these same interests.  I wish there more of these kind of people within my reach.  My sister just kind of smirks at things I say sometimes.  Granted I don't usually take the time to explain things very well, but I do notice all the times she just sort of ridicules the feelings I express.  It doesn't bother me, I just notice how different we are.  She sometimes portrays the image of the cliche girl to me, at least in certain aspects.  And I hate how living in this time and being with these people has in some ways turned me into that cliche girl.  I fight it when I see it, yet I am bound to embrace it unknowingly at times.  I can't help it.  Being in this bubble with a group of all very similar people has to have some effect on me.  

        The other day when I was in Ocean Beach with some friends, the epitome of our day was shopping and eating and shopping and sitting and shopping and talking.  Sure that's great, but isn't there ever more to life than looking for ways to spend more money and gossip?  Especially in a place like OB, where all I want to do is explore every corner and engage in the culture.  I voiced my desire to walk along the sea edge south of the pier or observe the tide pools but was met with an uninterested shrug.  Why would that be of any interest when we could be sipping Starbucks drinks and scrolling through Instagram?  I knew venturing through my town with them wouldn't hold the same thrill as it once did, but it saddens me to see how consumerism and technology have dampened the human's desire for adventure.  I can't even describe how much I enjoy wandering and exploring places.  I am happiest in these moments; I feel alive.  Those types of girls will never understand this passion and unfortunately the majority of girls today are like them.

       I feel trapped for I have this heated desire for something that is not easy to attain.  It's like I have this whole other person inside of me dying to get out, but there are too many restrictions and that person inside is getting stronger with time.  This expression is unfairly hindered in ways that seem detrimental to the human essence, and in some areas I am coming off as desperate because of this.  Pathetic as this issue is on a larger scale, I truly believe that any restraint to the creativity of the soul is destructive to sanity.  I think that one friend understands these feelings within me, yet there is nothing that they can do to help because they are part of those obstacles.  I haven't met the person yet who can free me, and I'm desperately waiting to meet them.  Please come soon.       

The very basic core of a man's living spirit is his passion for adventure. The joy of life comes from our encounters with new experiences, and hence there is no greater joy than to have an endlessly changing horizon, for each day to have a new and different sun. 

- Into The Wild