and way out in seattle, young kurt cobain
snuck out to the greenhouse, put a bullet in his brain.
snakes in the grass beneath our feet, rain in the clouds above,
some moments last forever, but some flare up with love love love.
This past April, I had planned to write an entry on R.E.M.’s “Let Me In.” Obviously, I didn’t. Not for any good reason, it’s just that the words never seemed to come out right. It was like trying to explain what it felt like to stand inside a hurricane, watching the sky turn dead-television grey. I can do that in a sentence (and you have proof, presuming your short-term memory works all right), but it doesn’t ever seem to match the original, emotional connotation. So, no entry came. I can tell you, right now, that this entry is going to do a whole lot more than what it says on the tin. In fact, it’s probably going to be two entries. But seeing as it’s the Mountain Goats track that brought everything to a head, I’ll let it rule the subject line. Goats are probably use to lofty places, anyway – especially mountain goats – and I’d hate to tinker with nature.