Hey, Kurt. It’s been a long time, my friend.
(shows me Erik, with a teasing flash of the feeling “you’ve replaced me with a younger man, ya cougar!” Which is hilarious because that’s what John once said about Kurt.)
You seem so… glowingly happy today.
Yeah, well you know I’ve been sober for a while. (smirk, drag on the cigarette)
Is there, like, rehab in heaven?
Not like an institution and doctors and shit. You can’t fuck up your body so badly that you need to get detoxed after you die. (quick breath out – like a laugh too short to call a laugh)
There’s a music video in that. Fuck, why do I get all my great ideas when I’m dead? (grin)
(I just sit in appreciation of the humour. It reminds me of being a teenager, these little sarcastic, jesting digs)
Hey Kurt, how many lives have you had?
(wide earnest eyes) On this planet?
Okay that’s another, crazier tangent we can take, but yeah, let’s start with this one. (We exchange a brief chuckle about how crazy it is to be talking to a dead Kurt Cobain about his past lives as an alien. He cracks about me being institutionalized for getting carried away on my own high – expanding my consciousness without chemicals.) So they’ll want to GIVE you chemicals to “fix” it, see how that works? (quick breath out – smell of cigarette smoke)
So yeah, can you put a number on it, or an estimate? (Search the blog for “soul bubbles” on why “how many lives” is not a straight-forward question)
(Pause while he’s thinking.) I guess, like, twenty? As something you’d call human. (I query) No I haven’t been dogs or cats or anything like that. (feeling of: that doesn’t really interest me)
Why as “something you’d call human”? Why the qualifier?
Well, I’m not sure the humanity of 20,000 years ago is the same species you’d call human today.
I don’t think it was at all the same species – I’d have to google it, but (Kurt makes a homo-erectus joke meaning the “erectus” came from wanking on themselves – that was when the separation of the mind / intellect began to differentiate humans from other animal species.)
(Kurt shows me a past life of himself – a precursor of himself – as a very hairy, heavily muscled, short man sitting beside a campfire just outside the mouth of a cave home. He is a hunter, his muscles burn with exhaustion. He’s eating an oily, kind of burnt meat, feeling utterly exhausted. There’s a sense of this being a purely survivalist existence. His body was 16 at the time.)
(Shows me another life passing a pipe – tobacco? Peyote. What’s peyote – LOOK IT UP! It’s vision quest shit. This is a 15-year old, reminds me of “Mowgli” from “The Jungle Book”. Just a very young boy in a loin cloth, body already shaky from the herbal laxatives administered before the ceremony, and the sweat / steam tent. He heads out on his own in the darkness, walks all night, walks through his fear, finds himself stronger in the morning. Discovers he is stronger at night. “Night Hawk” becomes his name. “Owl?” I ask, to clarify? “No,” and shows me a smaller, swifter bird with a high-pitched call. Night Hawk can carry a rabbit that is larger and heavier than himself. When this boy returned from his vision quest a man, he was confident in his small-framed body, and respected as Night Hawk, swift, skilled, silent, clever and deadly for his small size.
This was (one of the best / one of my favourite lives). Whenever I get asked about past lives, I like to go back to the Indian Shit. It’s what people want to hear, (like an overplayed song) because there’s a REASON they want to hear it. People listen to an old song because it reminds them of who they used to be. That’s why people like to hear about past lives about being Native. We’re all Natives, feeling like Aliens.
(He flashes his eyes away – another gesture when he’s said something that tickles him. As I make this observation and type it he said -) Yeah, cause when I (stare / hold your gaze) I’m really tryin’ to bullshit you!
Stares at me.
You should eat more chocolate cake.
I nod, a little laugh here – he’s saying this because last night Sweetie & I were talking about getting a “wedding” cake for our anniversary in the future, and we were debating chocolate wedding cake and that vanilla is apparently more formal. He’s also teasing me about getting sick from eating something Sweetie had prepared earlier this week, using a recipe she found in one of Kurt’s published journals.
All that green shit! (shows me a green smoothie) You can’t handle good food anymore! (the thing Sweetie made.) You need to eat more chocolate cake. Put some weed in it, that’ll help! (help with the nausea of eating too much cake.)
You know about George encouraging me to eat less crap, right?
(waves his hand) That’s because he’s an old vegan hippie! – (Oh this is funny! Kurt blushes because he suddenly felt like he went too far, teasing George! Ha!)
Yeah, no one messes with George the Man – doesn’t feel right. I’m still gonna argue that eating shit and putting all that in your body is part of being alive – for some people. Chocolate cake is not heroin; if you’re not 500 lbs cake is not going to kill you.
(This is in reference to another conversation Sweetie & I had after I read a statistic about 60% of the deaths in the US being related to diseases with dietary causes / exacerbations, such as diabetes, heart disease, stroke etc. I was questioning what data they pulled together to get that statistic, and I’ve been more aware lately of my own body and the soft halo of padding I have on all my “edges”. Not criticizing, just observing.)
I query Kurt on the contrast between George’s encouragement to eat / live clean and Kurt’s contradictory advice.
(Loooooong drag on the cigarette.) Fuck, it just comes down to your personal philosophy. Do you want to live a long life like George? If you want your body to become a “classic” you take care of it. If you want to fuckin’ run it into the ground and kill it early – that’s a reasonable option!
I laugh in surprise at the phrasing “reasonable option” and give it back to him like a question.
YEAH! It’s all recyclable, right? No one is better than the other, you don’t get into a private section of heaven for taking good care of your body. You just get a different life experience. I’m just (addressing) the fuckin’ rock stars in your group (grin- rock star) who would NEVER feel right eating vegan and living peacefully. THIS IS NOT A PEACEFUL PLANET, and guess what – NO ONE incarnates on earth to be peaceful!
There are a million other planets / places you could be if all you wanted to be was happy. We don’t come here to be happy – but sometimes we (go to earth) to learn how to be happy DESPITE all the shit.
Do you think you might come back for that purpose?
Shakes his head – I actually had a LOT of happy moments in my last life. A LOT. Fuck, I feel happy, BLISSFUL remembering – because you know being (out of that body) I can go back and relive the greatest fucking moments, it’s not just remembering the memories, it’s BEING there. You said I was looking happy – I AM so fucking happy, it’s unbelievable. Except it is. (believable because it is.)
And there is your zen moment. (flashes me the theme from Saturday Night Live skits – did they have a “zen moments” skit? It’s like the “deep thoughts” interlude.)
(flashes me the add for an old fender electric guitar I was reading yesterday and I thought of him.) You know you would *love* it, baby! (gives me the feeling of the vibration from the amp travelling through my body, and the power of knowing that my hand on the instrument creates this pulse that goes through a thousand watching people.)
Happiness. (cigarette drag) I don’t know if I actually know what that is, for most people. I don’t know if this thing I might call adrenaline, or ego / power trip, or (gratitude for love) is happiness to other people. I almost don’t want to claim that word. (Shows me an album cover – a smaller, CD case with a black background and the word “Happiness” scrawled across it in dripping red paint.)
There are other words for everything that I’m feeling when I think about being happy. Excitement. (Arousal). Being high. That’s another part of it – the things that made / make me feel “happy” are all of these things that (degrade the physical body) – getting pumped up (on heavy music) that blows out your ear drums and makes you deaf, getting in fights and getting dehydrated and getting high – it’s all about getting high for me, it’s like, feeling the most alive.
And that was a really fucked up thing for me getting told that in order to be a better parent or person – or to “be happier” – that I had to live more of my life like I was half-dead. I just didn’t *care* about all that stuff, I just wanted / needed to get to these places where I really felt fucking alive. These (happiest moments of my life) I don’t regret any of them. Yeah, I would walk that path again. (nodding).
(Not to argue, but just to contrast I show Kurt the stories of being sick and all the crap that links to those best moments – the fallout.)
(Shrugs.) I’m just being honest with you. (looks right at me, putting a tv camera between us – shakes his finger at the camera) Don’t do drugs, kids! (cigarette is hanging out of his mouth, and his “fucked up” look is totally exaggerated.)
What kind of a fuckin’ hypocrite would I be? (shakes his head with the quick-exhale laugh) No, I fucking lived my life for a reason. (Gives me the feeling of great, wonderful strength.)
(He links that feeling back to the feeling of returning from the vision quest as Night Hawk.) That’s happiness to me.
(Big, beautiful grin.)
Thank you, Kurt. (Gives me a big, exaggerated kiss on the cheek and flounces away exaggeratedly feminine wearing a pinkish-white slip with lace edging.)
Woah woah woah woah! Hey, can you come back for a second please? (Does his grover “near-far” impression and is back in an instant, really really close like an inch from my face! I can smell him.)
Now he sits on a chair, picks at the hem of his slip delicately sits with a straight back – he’s created the set of that interview before the Rock Ball when he was wearing a ball gown.
You want to ask about my (cross-dressing)?
Yeah, what is going on there? I guess I’m just curious about it. I was surprised when you did that thing just now. (I take a second here to smack myself mentally. Did that thing just now? Where’d my words go?)
I was seriously telling the truth all along – exactly like I said in the interview; If I want to accentuate my feminine side, I’ll put on a dress. (nightie).
(gives me the reasons in feelings: 1. the material is nice and it really does contrast your body against the clothing. Makes you more aware of your body. Dress in drag and you’ll understand this feeling. 2. The shock value is fun. 3. It might start a fight if someone decides to call you a fag, and that’s awesome because if you win the fight you get to be the “fag” in a dress who beat the shit out of a bigot, and if you lose then it’s a good story to laugh about later.)
(he still enjoys the shock value of appearing in a dress) I like to show up at jock/frat/guy parties where they’re playing (gives me the chorus of “teen spirit”) and (appear as an apparition of himself wearing a short girly nightie mentally shouting “I’m YOUR teen spirit!”) (Laughs in a guffaw, rolls over) They always think it was the craziest fucking high! And they NEVER talk about it ‘cause (what kind of self-respecting macho guy) would ever say to his buddies “Hey, I think I saw the ghost of Kurt Cobain in a dress.”
Still pranking the macho dudes from beyond, eh?
Yeah! And (no chance of getting beaten up) The cool thing is they remember that their whole lives. And I can keep an eye on them. I’m not being mean, just reminding them there’s more to their reality than the grunt work.
(I give a quick apology to Kurt upon completion of this entry, because I know he was talking to me with a better vocabulary than I’ve employed I this entry, my brain seems to have dumbed a lot of it down to monosyllabic words. He just shrugs, says that’s alright and he doesn’t really care because the point is there.)