i stayed up super late last night, generally so i could get myself onto a night schedule, specifically so i wouldn't have to wake up early and witness the unholy appearance of the goddamned daystar, my absolute least favorite time of the day. yet there i was, stupidly waking up after three hours of sleep, just in time for the fiery ball to make its unwelcome appearance. they can put a man on the moon but nobody can get that damnable thing out of my eyes? the terrorists have already won.
i'm switching to a night schedule because i have to start programming again. i can sit here and clatter away on my mac keyboard, watching the square characters show up in textedit, even with that depressing radiation not taking a hint and rudely stabbing through the blinds. but programming is about eleventy godzillion times harder than writing livejournal entries. there is no way i can program without darkness, or at the very least a good serious sun-blotting storm. so i guess i'll work on this entry for awhile, then putter around on the internet killing time until it's late enough to leave the house, and get something to eat. i'll come back here around 4:30PM, when the hateful thing will have mostly dropped out of the sky, and i can get to work.
it's not just the sunlight that bothers me. it's daytime in general. i can feel people seething out there. they make lots of noise, real and psychic. they invade my brane. i like people a lot better when they are quiet, and that only happens at night.
back in february i went through this nirvana kick. and by "nirvana kick," i mean "i read a cobain biography." i was in coral gables on vacation for my fortieth birthday. i found many excuses to ditch my mom and sister and wander around downtown by myself, just like the good old days. i needed something to read. i went into the barnes and noble where i'd wasted so many hours back in the day and bought the cobain biography.
i'd never before listened to the nirvana records, apart from the big hits you can't avoid, like "negative creep" and "smells like teen spirit" and "heart-shaped box." ha ha. "can't avoid." i always feel so smug when anybody else writes that. it's always like "oh my GOD this commercial is so AWFUL and i just can't get AWAY from it because it's EVERYWHERE i'm sure you know which one i MEAN because it's assaulting EVERYBODY we're all getting it right in the ASS every time i see it i get STUPIDER i'm just going to DIE" and i'm thinking HA HA HA i have NO IDEA what commercial you're talking about. because i have the good sense to stay away from network tv, dumbeaux. you could very easily avoid it if you wanted to, you just like having things to complain about. there you are striving towards perfection and the horrible horrible w3r1d is doing its best to drag you down, innit. you poor widdle thing, boo hoo hoo hoo hoo.
actually, there is one commercial i'd like to see again. you know, where the two women are in a rowboat, and one of them reports she has that "not so fresh feeling?" it was about some product that helped her alleviate that condition, as i recall. well, hey! i've got that "not so fresh feeling" too! where can i get some of that?
funny i should be writing this today, because the subject of this entry, if i were to let it reach its natural state, would be how the world is dragging me down, i'm such a poor widdle thing, boo hoo hoo hoo hoo. but i didn't know how to handle the negative emotions, anger and criticizin' and h8in' and so on, so i had to take those things away from myself and send myself to the corner to face the wall for a "time out." i hope you'll think about what you've done wrong while you're sitting there stewing, mister. no fruity pebbles for you. so i'm not allowed to talk about how the world is dragging me down, only what i'm going to do about it, how i will transform this sow's ear into a silk purse. because i am wicked serious about not letting myself wallow in ruts, dawg.
SO ANYWAY. BACK TO THE NIRVANA THING. i was never much of a fan, but reading the cobain biography put me in the mood to listen to the records, in light of all the new information i had about them. i bought the three nirvana studio albums back in february, then stopped caring. they were still in the shrink wrap until a few days ago. now i'm in the right mood for that sort of ugly stuff.
i'm listening to the records for the third time right now. they are tighter and better-constructed than i would have expected, given what a mess cobain was. his superpower, if you could call it that, was channeling his alienation and hurt and anger into shiny hard pellets that the other members of his tribe could recognize and understand. he's pretty good at that, except when he's not:
rape me, my friend
rape me again
i'm not the only one
do it and do it again
yeah, way to show off your superior coping skills, pal. it's all somebody else's fault. throw out the r-word for a bit of lascivious voyeuristic button-pushing sensationalistic fun.
here's something you don't often hear about kurt "keepin' it real" cobain. he was magnanimous and all-for-one-and-one-for-all towards his two bandmates, right up until the moment he discovered that there was real money involved. then he abruptly notified krist novoselic and dave grohl that he was rejiggering the contracts such that he got 95 percent of the money, and if they didn't like it, he would break up the band and go solo. millions for kurt, table scraps for krist and dave. tell me again who it is doing the raping around here?
who knows, maybe it amounted to nothing. there was no indication anywhere in the book that krist or dave took it very hard. kurt wrote and sang all the songs and was the face of the band, after all. based on their actions, krist and dave apparently felt that 2.5 percent of nirvana was better than any of their other options. when kurt started unraveling, nobody did any more to try to stop his steady slide into oblivion than krist.
if that selfish act hurt anybody, it was kurt. putting money before his friends. money he didn't even really want, that brought him no pleasure. he sent himself the message that he was becoming just as bad as all those people from his childhood he was forever railing against.
if you ask me, the only really likable character in the entire nirvana story is tracy marander. she supported kurt for years, financially and emotionally. she snapped the picture that graces the front cover of bleach. when he didn't need her anymore, kurt unceremoniously dumped her, like a whole bunch of expendable band members that came before. she basically mid-wifed nirvana into existence and got nothing for her trouble, not even the measly 2.5 percent dave and krist got. i bet you've never heard of her before now. the poor girl didn't even get any recognition out of it.
kurt and courtney is laughable, one of the worst "documentaries" i've ever seen. nick broomfield is a shameless hack, he has no idea how to conduct an interview, he knows nothing but sensationalism. i bought the dvd anyway, because it contains a three-minute interview with tracy marander. she isn't the least bit upset about the way kurt treated her, of course. if she had been the vindictive grudge-carrying heartless type, she would have kicked kurt's sorry ass to the curb years before he did it to her. she doesn't look like she's doing so well, though. if you compare pictures of her from her mid-eighties heyday and today, you'd be hard-pressed to believe it's the same person. somebody should go be nice to that girl. she's sweet and loyal, a diamond in the rough. anybody successfully befriending her would be richly rewarded, i suspect. i'm pretty sure she's still living in the seattle area. hint hint, seattlites.
a web search reveals that big brothers and sisters has the same school-based program here in nashville that they had in miami. it looks like i'm going to be stuck here longer than i wanted to be, and i've stayed away from youngsters as long as i can stand. there is good clean uncomplicated friendly energy emanating from seven-year-olds. now begins the requisite hemming and hawing before i get serious about it.