I do solemnly swear that I am a kid of the Grunge Era, who looked up to bands like Metallica, Nirvana and Anthrax for refuge during the adolescent stages where you feel all of the people around you are AGAINST you. Who related to their songs, hummed to Nothing else matters, Dumb and a whole lot more with utter zest with matching declarations of worship (sometimes to the stupidest extent).
I don't have a pretty good idea of the man behind the band, but all I know is at that time He is God (of music of course). I have adored him in many ways and silently wished to have a few moments with him just to ask a couple of questions to satisfy my childhood fantasy and meek curiosity, he is a status symbol afterall.
Even after he died, he still lived on to those hardcore worshippers and to many people who have learned to appreciate his great talent, stringing mundane words, harmonizing them and making them so addicting.
After so many years, his words still encapsulates my heart. I happened to bump into a thread revealing one of his love letters to his dearest and BAM! I fell in love. AGAIN.
Courtney,
Yet all too often with the attention span of a bullet to the head. I think it's pathetic that the entire world looks upon a person with patience and a calm demeanor as the desired model citizen.
Yet there's something to be said about the ability to explain oneself with a tone down, tune deaf tone. And I will say it: I am what they call the boy who is slow. How I metamorphosised from hyperactive to cement is for lack of a better knife to the throat uh, annoying, aggrevating, confusing as dense as cement.
Cement holds no other minerals. You can't even find fools gold in it. Its strictly man made and you've taught me it's ok to be a man. And in the classic man's world I parade you around proudly like the ring on my finger which also holds no mineral.
Love Kurt
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| photo credit |
When I say I love you I am not ashamed. Nor will anyone ever come close to intimidating persuading, etc me into thinking otherwise. I wear you on my sleeve. I spread you out wide open with the wing span of a peacock.
Yet there's something to be said about the ability to explain oneself with a tone down, tune deaf tone. And I will say it: I am what they call the boy who is slow. How I metamorphosised from hyperactive to cement is for lack of a better knife to the throat uh, annoying, aggrevating, confusing as dense as cement.
Cement holds no other minerals. You can't even find fools gold in it. Its strictly man made and you've taught me it's ok to be a man. And in the classic man's world I parade you around proudly like the ring on my finger which also holds no mineral.
Love Kurt
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