Kurt Cobain Lives – part 7

In 1994 Kurt Cobain faked his own suicide. 22 years later he’s ending his self-imposed exile.

This is part 7 of an ongoing serial fiction. Part 1 can be found here.

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I don’t know Dave Grohl very well, or at all really, but he doesn’t strike me as someone who is often left speechless. But with the long-dead Kurt Cobain, either alive or (for all Dave knows) in ghost form here in front of us, he is exactly that, speechless.

Dave’s bottle of Heineken hits the thinly carpeted floor with a thump. “What… the… fuck…” he says.

Continue reading “Kurt Cobain Lives – part 7”

Kurt Cobain Lives – part 6

In 1994 Kurt Cobain faked his own suicide. 22 years later he’s ending his self-imposed exile.

This is part 6 of an ongoing serial fiction. Part 1 can be found here.

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The unfamiliar email in my inbox is from neagitivecreep94@hotmail.com and the subject line reads “Merry Christmas.” Talk about ridiculous! First of all it’s March so wishing someone a merry Christmas is just plain silly. It’s the email address itself that stands out however. How could Kurt expect anyone to take him seriously with an email address like that? Then again, I guess as a dead celebrity, one that is loved by millions, he doesn’t really have to worry about that kind of thing. Continue reading “Kurt Cobain Lives – part 6”

Kurt Cobain Lives – Part 5

In 1994 Kurt Cobain faked his own suicide. 22 years later he’s ending his self-imposed exile.

This is part 5 of an ongoing serial fiction. Part 1 can be found here and part 4 here.

Cobain with tinsel
MAILMASTER _Subject: On 2014-04-04, at 12:08 PM, Vinay Menon wrote: Kurt Cobain on December 13, 1993 in Seattle on the day NIrvana performed at Pier 48 for MTV’s “Live and Loud.” CREDIT: Alice Wheeler Kurt-Cobain-at-MTV’s-Live-&.jpg

“So, first off, we’re gonna need access. And that’s where you come in, Martin,” Kurt says.

“But he doesn’t have a record coming out currently. He’s not doing publicity.” Martin replies, referring to Dave Grohl.

“You’re ‘Victimless Crime,’ for Christ’ sake. I’m sure as the editor of an essential music blog, you can come up with something,” Kurt says.

Martin nods. He’ll figure out how to get us in.

Continue reading “Kurt Cobain Lives – Part 5”

Dave Grohl is a Clown

Kurt Cobain Lives  –  Part 4

In 1994 Kurt Cobain faked his own suicide. 22 years later he’s ending his self-imposed exile.

This is part 4 of an ongoing serial fiction. Part 1 can be found here.

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When we stop laughing, long enough for us to take a normal breath anyway, I ask Kurt what he’s talking about. What does he mean when he says Dave Grohl is a “clown” and “out of control?” Even as I ask though, I’m pretty sure I know what he means.

“Hubris, man. Fucking hubris,” Kurt says simply, as if he’s said all he needs to. And to me, he has.

Continue reading “Dave Grohl is a Clown”

The Tsar of Love and Techno: Stories

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The Tsar of Love and Techno: Stories by Anthony Marra – 10/10

I don’t give 10’s. In my mind, I award the best books 9’s because I want to leave room for the experience to be surpassed. I have to leave room to be blown away. But then…

This book blew me away.

Continue reading “The Tsar of Love and Techno: Stories”

Kurt Cobain Lives – Part 3

This is part 3 of an ongoing serial fiction. Part 1 can be found here and part 2 here.

In 1994 Kurt Cobain faked his own suicide. 22 years later he’s ending his self-imposed exile.


USA - Nirvana in Swimming Pool
10 Oct 1991, Los Angeles, California, USA — Kurt Cobain of the band Nirvana takes a nap with his guitar at his side at North Hollywood pool. — Image by © Kirk Weddle/Corbis

An hour after walking in, Martin and I exit the lobby of the building. It has stopped raining.

Kurt left the office first, along with his bodyguard, riding down in the elevator having affixed a ski hat and fake okie-beard onto his face. The beard looked truly ridiculous. Mostly he just looked like a crazy person. But then I suppose it’s an effective enough disguise as it’s not like any paparazzi are on the lookout for a dead dude.

Continue reading “Kurt Cobain Lives – Part 3”

Kurt Cobain Lives – Part 2

This is part 2 in an ongoing serial fiction. Read part 1 and learn how the narrator came to be sitting in an office with the long-dead front-man of Nirvana.

In 1994 Kurt Cobain faked his own suicide. 22 years later he’s ending his self-imposed exile.

“Allow me to introduce my client, Mr. Kurt Cobain. Contrary to popular belief, alive and in the flesh,” Consuelo says.

“No… fucking… way…” is all I can manage.

In 1993 I saw Nirvana play live at the San Francisco Cow Palace, which is basically a stadium. I recall thinking Kurt looked very small on the huge, distant stage. At the time I attributed it to the enormity of the venue and perhaps Krist Noveselich’s absurd height at stage right, but here, the figure on the couch, thin as a rail, was a man of similarly small stature.

Continue reading “Kurt Cobain Lives – Part 2”

Kurt Cobain Lives

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In 1994 Kurt Cobain faked his own suicide. 22 years later he’s come back to “get” Dave Grohl.

“Wait, this doesn’t make sense. Do you know what he wants? Why in the world would this dude want to talk to me? To us?” I ask Martin.

I have Martin on speaker while I Google the lawyer he’s just mentioned on my aging MacBook Pro. The lawyer’s name, the guy who wants us to come see him, is Vincent Consuelo. I’ve heard the name before I think, but I can’t place it.

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Fuck You! You and your fucking Batman

It’s September 1989 and the Irish punk band the Pogues is touring America. They play to a capacity crowd of 1300 people at the Power Center for the Arts at the University of Michigan, Ann Arbor. This night it’s immediately clear that lead singer Shane MacGowan isn’t up to snuff. Even while gripping the solidity of the mic-stand, the infamously testy and oft-drunken singer can barely stand. He’s off-tune, off-time and nearly doesn’t make it through the opening number.

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The Pogues

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Books I Read in 2015

I’ve gone back and forth internally about posting my reading list for 2015. The most persuasive argument thus far being “Who the fuck cares what I read?” That, however is the central dilemma, native to all writing having to do with one’s self. Where do you get the nerve to think that’s worth writing down? I’ve worked hard to ignore that thought though, because in the end, all writing is an act of narcissistic courage. Look what I have to say! I exist!

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