If you didn’t already know, Kurt Donald Cobain was an American musician, best known as the lead vocalist, guitarist and primary songwriter of the rock band Nirvana. Through his angst-fuelled songwriting and anti-establishment persona, Cobain’s compositions widened the thematic conventions of mainstream rock. He was heralded as a spokesman of Generation X and is considered one of the most influential musicians in the history of alternative rock.
In 1991 after signing with the major label DGC Records, Nirvana found global success with their song “Smells Like Teen Spirit” from their critically acclaimed second album Nevermind. Although Cobain was seen as as the voice of his generation following Nirvana’s sudden success, he resented this, believing his message and artistic vision had been misinterpreted by the public.
During the last years of his life, Cobain struggled with heroin addiction and chronic health problems such as depression. He also struggled with the personal and professional pressures of fame, as well as having a disorderly relationship with his wife, fellow musician Courtney Love. In March 1994, Cobain overdosed on a combination of champagne and Rohypnol so we went to a rehab centre and underwent a detox program. But on April 8, 1994, Cobain was found dead at his home in Seattle at the age of 27; police concluded he had died on April 5 from a self-inflicted shotgun wound to the head.
As we have heard our whole lives, “money doesn’t buy happiness” Cobain proved this through suffering from depression for years as seen in his journal entries. He always felt as if no one really could understand him on the level he wished to be seen. He says in one of his entries ” I’ve probably never met a person whom I feel compatible with my intellectual, spiritual and humorist will.”
Although it is normal for fans to be excited to read the the most intimate thoughts from one of the biggest influences in music at the time, Cobain has implied that he never wanted his journals shared with the public. In one of his entries he said:
“Within the months between October 1991 through December 92, I have had four notebooks filled with two years worth of poetry and personal writing … The most violating thing I’ve felt this year is not the media exaggerations or the catty gossip, but the rape of my personal thoughts. Ripped out of pages from my stay in hospitals and airplane rides hotel stays etc. I feel compelled to say f— you F— you to those of you who have absolutely no regard for me as a person. You have raped me harder than you’ll ever know.”
KC
I have been writing in journals since I was just a kid as well and I could not imagine if even the people close to me read every little thought I had, let alone the whole world. Especially a bunch of fans and people who looked up to me. He did portray his depression through certain songs but that was what he chose to share with the public, his journal entries are a whole different story. But, at the same time if I was completely opposed to people seeing my every thought, I would probably burn my journals before taking a shot gun to my head. Maybe he had no care knowing he’d be dead and other’s opinions wouldn’t matter to him. Either way let’s look at some of his entries:
A lot of them are hard to read so I will type it out:
Here I am, inspired to write only because I’m pissed off. I don’t feel as bitter as I want to be. I need to learn the English language. I seem insincere because I can’t choose or decide fast enough. My penmanship seems catalogical because of my lack of personality. I am obsessed with the fact that I am skinny and stupid.
I probably never met a person whom I feel was compatible with my intellectual, spiritual and humorist will.
I confide in too many conflicting opinions and parties and groups and classes and clubs and meetings and concessions and recessions and conventions wearing a grand poo bah hat with drink in hand, boasting of the hunting and organised past time activities these past 23 years have served. A sterile bacterial success.
Here’s the cover of one of his many notebooks:
I honestly feel like Cobain and I thought a lot of alike. He was a quiet, boring guy on the outside but had such a rich, inner life inside of his mind. I am sure he always wished he was able to fully express himself to others the way he portrayed himself in his mind. He tried through music but a lot of reporters didn’t decipher his lyrics the way he wished to depict them and that frustrated him a lot. He tells a reporter one time:
My lyrics are a big pile of contradictions. They’re split between very sincere opinions and feelings that I have, and sarcastic opinions and feelings that I have, and sarcastic and hopeful, humorous rebuttals towards cliche, bohemian ideals that have been exhausted for years. I mean, I like to be passionate and sincere, but I also like to have fun and act like a dork.
KC
Most of the reporters and fans read him and his words in a different light he meant shine.
Chemicals are the thing of today, today I’ll take as many chemicals I can get my greasy paws on, because this scent reminds me of you. just like they said it would in the commercial. yesterdays scent is still here today, I’m beached. flat out stranded and obsessed. I’ve got to leave because your still here in my air, fucking with my sense of smell, invading my air waves. your all over the sheets and in the bathroom. my couch reaks of you! you’ve left your underwear and coat and records and books and scent here, in my place of recovery. the place where i’ve crawled off to die like a cat under a house after it’s been hit. lying around waiting.
I don’t invent subjects of interest for conversation. I don’t have anything to say or ask, I just play along. I’m a reactionary in a way; I just react to what others say. I don’t think and when I do: I forget. give me a leonard cohen afterworld.
Opinion
congratulations you have won – it’s a
years subscription of bad puns – and a
makeshift story of concern – and to
set it up before it burns – my
opinion
KC
And hairy, sweaty, macho-sexist and racist dickheads who will soon drown in a pool of razor blades and sperm from the uprising of your children, the armed and de-programmed crusade, litterin, the floors of wall street with revolutionary debris. assassinating both the lesser and greater of two evils, bringing an everlasting sterile and bacterial, herbaceous and corporate cleansing for our ancestors to gaze in wonderment and awe. The representatives of American male rapes in more ways than one.
Posing as the enemy to infiltrate the mechanics of the empire slowly start its rot from the inside. It’s an inside job-it starts with the custodians and cheerleaders, oh well, whatever, never mind.
me – old man
have made my conclusion. but nobody will listen anymore.
Birds. Birds are and always be be reincarnated old men with tourrets syndrome having somehow managed to dupe the reproductive saga they fuck each other and tend to their home repairs and children while never missing their true mission. to scream at the top of their lungs in the horrified hellish rage every morning at day break screaming bloody murder all over the world in our ears but sadly we don’t speak bird.
the wholes respond with their message for is in similar ways. by beaching themselves.
KC
If you are interested in reading about a variety of different subjects such as mental health, inside the minds of disturbed artists, the importance of being an introvert, importance of body language and non-verbal communication, the importance of mental rehearsal and imagery, the power of our minds, mindfulness, metaphysics and the cosmic world and how all the great genius’ of the past have tapped into this power to achieve seeming miracles, addiction, abuse, the effects loneliness and so much more, please check out some of my other posts:
