Tag Archives: Kurt Cobain

Frances Bean Cobain

I got side tracked today – somehow I ended up looking at some old Kurt Cobain footage and as always ended up looking at Courtney Love too.  Now after looking at those two, one has to be curious about the progress of their offspring right?  What a stunner she turned out to be.  Go and have a look for yourself.

That said, I always had the hots for her mum, Courtney.  Rocking that junkie scuz look but better still, a gravel voice and rock chick status, she always grabs my attention when I see or hear her.  Hugely under rated as an artist if you ask me – but judge for yourself.

I’m fake it’s so real I am beyond fake !! That line is up there with Robbie Williams’ I’m contemplating thinking about thinking’.

Anyway moving on, lets talk about knee damage.  Today we are looking and feeling pretty good.

Then afterwards

A little while later

Getting closer to the end

And then finally

And that was that – two tiny little holes.  In comparison, when you look around, really nothing at all.  More of a splinter wound than anything resembling having a camera, vacuum cleaner and scissors shoved inside your knee but that is modern medicine for you.


Anyway – off to the Apple store in Leicester – while I am there, take a look over to the right at the album ‘Tinder Girls’ if you really want to see what goes on with that App.

Another Montage of Heck !

It was billed as the definitive Cobain movie – do you think it lived up to the hype?

For me, yes.  I sat watching silently as his life unravelled before my eyes, from a cute blond hair blue-eyed kid to an unlikely superstar for the masses before his demise and death.

It didn’t answer the big question though – Why? – but I don’t think it wanted to, or could !

I have been trying to decide if taking your own life is a brave thing to do.  Undoubtedly it is selfish as hell but is it brave too?  It would certainly take guts to be stone cold sober, put a gun under your chin and pull the trigger being fully aware that there will be no more.  Make it a good shot and arguably there would be no pain either – would you even know it had happened?

Choose a slower method, like jumping off a bridge, and you would have a few seconds on the way down to contemplate your actions, most likely regret them.  All of the suicide survivors that have leapt from the Golden Gate Bridge in San Francisco expressed immediate regret for their actions after leaving the bridge.

Cobain’s drug induced frenzy surely would have numbed his senses but he must have previously considered his actions and laid plans to execute them and himself.

Jeffrey Spector is in the news today about his recent trip to Dignitas in Switzerland to end his life as he saw fit, supported by his family – I can’t think that anyone would not consider this man brave for the decision he made.

Two people, worlds apart, take decisions that ultimately have equal results – the loss of their own life – yet as we look in, we only can empathise with one of them – the other is a confusing mystery that will never be fully understood.

When we have simply had enough – shouldn’t we be able to turn our own lights out ?

I saw an old chap earlier this week, sitting in his wheelchair at the beach.  He was old, with his carer, who I don’t doubt for one minute had not just helped get this dapper old chap dressed for the trip, but was wholly responsible for him being clothed at all.  As I observed the old guy twitching and shaking in his chair, seemingly unable to control his body movements and most likely his own destiny – the usual thought came to me – if my life ever amounts to something similar – please let me turn out the light, never let me get past the point where I can’t switch that switch.  When my body is used up and worn out – it has served its purpose, taken me on a trip,  made stories, friends, enemies and many memories – but when my time is up – let me go.

Cobain is still a dilemma for me.  See, some people just aren’t meant to get old, maybe that was him.  What if I am wrong though?  What kind of music would he be writing today, would him and Courtney Love still be together, how would Frances Bean be different, would the Foo Fighters even exist?  There are so many unanswered questions, not just the big WHY?


Phew – on a lighter note, I very nearly bit the dust tonight.  If it hadn’t been for the unusually attentive driving of one of the Majorcan locals and her ABS system, I would have been pulling Ford Focus windscreen from my forehead for the next couple of weeks.  It was so close, I could hear her gasp for air as I appeared from behind the line of parked cars diving the wrong way up a one way street.  I apologised and asked her is she was OK (all in my best Spanish of course) because clearly I had scared the shit out of her – but let me tell you – I think that was possibly the closest call of my life so far, even after years of riding fast motorbikes at ridiculous speeds – this one left me physically shaking.


Live Every day as if it were your last – it may well be !



Montage of Heck

Thought I would write a little while I am downloading what is being billed as the definitive Cobain movie.

It seems I have completely forgotten the skills set that allows me to solder.  As a 10 year old, I could have soldered a cat to the front wheel on my mums car – as a forty something, seems all my skills have gotten off the bus and walked away. I struggled yesterday to solder some small wires into an 8 pin DIN plug – sounds very boring I know but I was embarrassed at my lack of skills – then, it turns out that I had the wrong plugs anyway so after struggling for half a day to solder them, I then had to undo all of my hard work – that only took a couple of seconds.

I got to Mallorca on Monday morning after some small ferry drama. The original ferry out of Barcelona was an hour behind schedule when I arrived due to engine trouble so I tootled off and had some Tortilla ( I was in Spain after all).  When I got back to the terminal, the ferry had been cancelled.  The unusually helpful spanish did a little more than give me that ‘ you’re fucked now’ Spanish shrug, they actually booked me on the next ferry some 4 hours behind schedule.  I knew of another ferry into the port at the top of the island, Alcudia, and asked if they could switch me to that one instead – and thus it was done.  So, arriving ahead of schedule albeit at the wrong port but even with the drive across the island I was still ahead of my original arrival time by over an hour. An unusual win situation for customer service in Spain.

The next day, there was a huge ferry fire just off the coast – everyone into the life boats and rescued.  I was left wondering if this was the same ferry that had the engine trouble the night before.

So back to the Cobain movie that has already finished downloading – I will watch it over the next couple of days and let you know how I get on with it, more importantly, is it worth all the hype.


I have a new idea for a photo contest



In the arse end of nowhere

I had a new Italian teacher last night, so that makes a total of two in two lessons.  Not that I am scaring them off but I have since figured out that it is one teacher for language, another teacher for hand gestures.

That aside, I also figured something else out today.  This morning over breakfast, I treated myself to a little Amy Winehouse from her time on Jools Holland.  Way back in 2004, she was quite sweet and innocent, tattoo free and a fuller figure – her voice, purely magical.  A couple of songs later and the year was 2006,  the tattoos started to appear, the weight dropping, that glazed unfocused stare and of course in the background the worthless shite of a boyfriend.

Then over lunch, I happened across a BeeGees in concert movie so I stuck that on and we got to talking about the two brothers that had died.  It then hit me – you can tell how old you are by how many dead artists you have in your music library. I bet everyone has a bit of Lou Reed right? Jimmi Hendrix, Beatles, Nirvana, Joplin, Marley,Presley,Bolan, Beastie Boys, Barry White,  they very quickly add up. I would like to tell you now just how many dead artists are in my library but fear of knowing the true figure stops me counting.

Of course, it got me thinking about Winehouse. Being a hard arse, I have little sympathy for her way of life but I do fully appreciate the staggering loss of talent when she departed. I also remember when Cobain decided to take his head off with a shot gun, I never understood why. I am sure that will remain eternally unanswered but then one night many years ago while in bed in Abbey Street I was listening to Radio 1, before it got shite.  Back in the day (at 44, I am old enough to use that phrase, not like some of the spotty teens on the streets)   the evening was filled with Bob Harris (deceased) Nicky Campbell and of course the late and very very great John Peel.  Peel was hosting a show on Cobain and finished off with words along the line of feeling like he could have helped, invited him into his house to be looked after and helped through their problems – and I can’t help but think Peel was right, better still, there are many of us that would have volunteered our services to help to keep such talent alive.

But enough of that crap

Lets talk about my friend Rupert – or ‘Poopie Pants’ as he is known in Portugal.  During a recent stay in England, I talked Poopie into doing the Park Run with me on saturday morning (thank you Horley for the tip off).  For those of you unfamiliar with the Park Run, it is a weekly event ran by volunteers across the UK and 7 other countries (including S.A. Lexa) where you can run a 5k track, be timed and have your times analysed and compared by world record times, age, sex etc.   While out on a run on the prior wednesday evening, I was accompanied by the aforementioned Poopie and as we got talking I suggested he do the Parkrun with me on Saturday.  He actually agreed, I was agast and he was regretful almost instantly.  Building up to the saturday, he started to look grumpy about doing it but I kept pushing him until at 9am on an autumnal Saturday morning, the flag was dropped and we were off.  My previous 3 runs had all been personal bests and I knew I would be pushing it if I were to to another.

I never of course, I posted my slowest time ever of 23:53 but was very impressed to see Poopie coming in around 1:15 seconds behind me as a first attempt.  Now I have to admit at the time it was a bit of an eye opener.  I run a lot and I was aware that I need to pick up my pace but seeing this fucker post a time like this with a complete lack of training gave me a kick in the nuts that I needed. I did take some comfort in the fact that despite all of his moaning and groaning about not being a competitive person before the event, he did actually really enjoy it.

Since then, I can see his Runkeeper times are very respectable and I have no doubt that Poopie will be busting his nuts to get a better time than me next time we go, so I am upping the ante and have pegged a 7km course here in Genoa to ‘train’ on for my next 5k.  First time out tonight was under 35 minutes with mild poo cramps toward the end but expect that time to tumble as I naturally get quicker and time my toilet drops to perfection

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