Journals by Kurt Cobain
2003
Weight: 1.7 lbs
Method of Disposal: Recycling what I can and throwing away the rest
My neurotic dog grows more unstable every time life changes in any capacity. The joyful sounds of a toddler taking a bath wreak havoc on his pea brain. Once he has sunk his teeth into something he cannot forget it. He fixates for life. We went from steel/metal/water from his shelter life to plastic (waste baskets, printers, paper shredders) to paintings to books. In the last week, I have lost 5 books, including Kurt Cobain's journals. Broken minds are drawn to each other, I guess.
Before recycling what I can and trashing the rest, I have been rereading each book through the tears and teeth marks. In the case of this book, Neuro-Dog ingested Kurt's letter to his dad, which I would have really liked to look at, and the rest was just torn up and scattered.
The journals brought me back to being a teenager and were insightful. It was fun to see him forming songs, the band name, connections, knowing what they would become, but it was (of course) sad too. Knowing what happens next. I sort of think he would have appreciated Wisconsin chewing up his personal musings and shitting them out. I really do. So, I guess this was an appropriate way to dispatch this book, though I was very frustrated at the time.
