Today as I rode the train into work I listened to Nirvana Unplugged in New York. Its such an amazing album, they were such a great group and Kurt in particular was a singularly talented artist. The music is simple and appealing but so fucking far ahead of its time that you still can't touch the shit with ten foot pole. It changed my morning, changed my whole mood. The train got stuck and my connecting train was late and it didn't even matter. I remember when I first downloaded that album. I was staying with my friend, couchsurfing and trying to find a way to make it in New York as a transplant from Seattle. I was jobless and chilling in her kitchen, dicking around and semi seriously thinking about emailing some resumes to job postings on craigslist. Instead I found this album sitting somewhere on shelf and plugged it into my computer. I can recall remarking to my host when she got back from work how impressed I was with the album after giving it a first listen. 'Yeah' she remarked, no fucking duh, I realized.
Listening to the album today on the train I wondered how old I was when Kurt took his own life, because I don't have any specific memories of the event. Although my dad was hired as the cabinet designer when the new residents moved into his old house. When I looked up the date on my phone, making copies in the copy room alone, I found that today in fact marks the 16th anniversary to Kurt's death. How's that for a motherfucking synchronism. 16 years we've missed him. Today its fuckin' justin beiber.
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