Nirvana - Blog Posts
Kurt Cobain Will Have His Revenge on the Straights
Had a video call with my brother Chuck the other day. Things got heavy:
KATE: Was Kurt Cobain a trans woman?
CHUCK: What?
Kurt Cobain. Rock musician. He was in a band called Nirvana.
I’m familiar with him, yes.
Was he a trans woman?
Um. No?
OK. Why not?
I mean, he wasn’t. It’s like asking why he wasn’t an astronaut.
He wasn’t an astronaut because he never went to space. Why wasn’t he a trans woman?
Because he didn’t transition. I mean, he didn’t ever say he was a woman, didn’t ever say he was trans. So no. Kurt Cobain wasn’t a trans woman.
So someone is trans if they say they’re trans. Self-determination.
That’s what you’ve told me. Is that wrong?
No, that’s right. We know ourselves better than anybody else can know us. If we say we’re trans, nobody can say we aren’t.
And Kurt Cobain never said he was trans.
So was I trans in 1994?
I don’t know, were you?
Yes, but if you’d asked me in 1994, I would have told you “no”.
So if I tell you I’m trans, I’m trans…
Right.
But if I tell you I’m cis, I might still be trans?
If you tell me you’re cis, I believe you.
That’s not the same thing as “I’m cis”.
That’s a really good point. This is sort of what some queer people are getting at when they say “gender is a construct”.
Come again?
Well, you’re cisgender, right?
As far as I know, yes.
Aha.
Hmmm?
You hedged. “As far as I know” isn’t the same thing as “yes”. “As far as I know” opens up the possibility that you could be trans and not know it.
It doesn’t seem terribly likely.
That’s an interesting statement. Early on in transition one of the biggest problems I had was dealing with the sheer unlikelihood of my being trans. I mean, I knew trans people existed. I knew somebody had to be trans. I just couldn’t wrap my head around the idea that it would be me.
Do you think this is why you’re on this whole “Kurt Cobain was a trans woman” kick?
Hey now, I’m just asking questions. You know. Like J.K. Rowling is “just asking questions”.
Kate, you are literally wearing a T-shirt that says “KURT COBAIN WAS A TRANS WOMAN” on it right now.
Am I? Oh, shit. I thought I was wearing my “Skip school, take hormones, kill God” T-shirt. To your question, though - yeah, I do think that’s part of it. Honestly, the hardest thing about growing up trans was believing that nobody in the world had ever experienced what I was experiencing. I didn’t have any role models. I didn’t wonder if I was the only one. I was convinced of it.
So being able to say that this incredibly gifted songwriter, the voice of a generation, was a trans woman like you…
I need someone like that. I need to not be the first of my kind.
Of course you’re not the first trans woman.
No, but before a couple of years ago almost every trans woman would tell you they always knew, unquestionably and innately, that they were women.
So it’s not just about him being trans, but specifically his being a trans woman who didn’t know he was a trans woman.
An egg. Right.
Why Kurt Cobain, anyway? What’s so special about him that you’re trying to induct him into the Egg Hall of Fame?
He knew things. Things cis guys don’t know. Things I didn’t know until after I started transition. He understood women, what we’re like, what we experience. “Pennyroyal Tea”. “Rape Me”. I just have a hard time thinking of a cis man who could write songs like that.
It wouldn’t be the only way in which he was exceptional.
True. Ahhh. I don’t know. I mean, I know, I can give you all the reasons, but there’s something in his eyes.
Something in his eyes.
All the pictures of him. No matter what he’s doing. If he’s grinning, or sad, whatever he’s doing, you can see something trapped there. Trapped and in pain, wanting to get out but not quite knowing how.
Huh. You, uh, know that what you’re doing is pretty much the textbook definition of projection, right?
Maybe. Chuck, do you think I’m happier?
Since you transitioned?
Yeah.
Of course. Absolutely. Night and day.
Everyone says that, and honestly, I see it. Even in pictures, you know? I see it. You’ve seen some of my transition timelines, right?
You do look really different.
It’s not just me. Every single person who transitions looks like that. We look so much happier, so much more alive, so much more us. I don’t understand how anybody can hate us.
I don’t get it either, Kate.
And when I look at any timelines, I look at the before photos… and I see something in their eyes. Transmasc, transfem, doesn’t matter. There’s something trapped wanting to get out. Every picture I’ve ever seen of Kurt Cobain looks like the “before” picture on a transition timeline. It’s just that with him, there aren’t any after pictures.
And it’s not just the eyes, either. The way he dressed, the whole “grunge look”. It’s just literally egg fashion. We dress with total disregard for our appearance or how we look because no matter what we do it’s wrong.
“Egg fashion”, egg this, egg that… isn’t it a little bit anachronistic, judging him by 2022 standards, 2022 values?
Is it? Chuck, I was alive in 1994. I was an 18 year old egg. I know what that feels like. I know what that looks like. I lived that. Why didn’t I come out as trans in 1994? Because I didn’t have the opportunity. Because self-determination needs to be informed, and none of us were. None of us. Look. You know what he said to Melody Maker in 1991? “I knew I was different. I thought that I might be gay or something because I couldn't identify with any of the guys at all.” That’s what he said.
Holy shit. Really?
Really. September 14, 1991.
Hold on, let me look that up. Oh, yeah, I see it. Look, if you look at the full quote he’s just saying he’s not a jock. Like he didn’t fit in with the jocks.
Well, what about the dresses?
What dresses?
Kurt Cobain wore a lot of dresses. Like, a lot, both onstage and off. On MTV in 1991, he said “It’s ‘Headbanger’s Ball’ so I thought I’d wear a gown.” He said in a 1993 interview, “I personally like to wear dresses. I wear them around the house sometimes.” This is not some shameful secret he kept hidden from the world. He was open about this. He was proud about this.
Yeah, but… it’s just clothes.
Except it’s not just clothes. Listen to his songs. Listen to his lyrics. “Should have been a son”. “I’m a lady, can you save me?” “Everyone is gay.” The original lyrics to “All Apologies” from his journals – “Boys write songs for girls. Let me grow some breasts.”
I mean they’re song lyrics. There are all kinds of ways to interpret song lyrics.
Sure. All kinds of ways. You ever read Michael Azerrad’s biography of Cobain, Come As You Are?
Nope.
Azerrad spent weeks talking to Cobain. He was Cobain’s biographer, but also his friend. And he has his own interpretation of the lyrics. For instance, Azerrad talks about all the lyrics about guns, and to me, now, I look at that, and I think of how he died, but Azerrad, when Kurt was alive, he looked at it another way. He thought it’s about dicks. “To paraphrase Dr. Freud,” he says, “sometimes a gun is just a gun. But not this time.” He talks about “Come As You Are”, where Kurt keeps singing “I swear I don’t have a gun.” That’s not my interpretation. That’s never been my interpretation. That’s what this cis man says. More than one cis man. Kurt says Dave Grohl’s dad, he said the same thing. Yeah. There are all kinds of ways to interpret lyrics.
“By this time,” Azerrad wrote, “one begins to wonder how Kurt rationalizes being a man at all. His first response is revealing. ‘I don’t know,’ he says. ‘Castration.’” I don’t wonder how Kurt rationalizes being a man. I rationalized “being a man” in all kinds of ways. What strikes me is that he needed to rationalize being a man. Had to come up with some kind of excuse. It just strikes me kind of funny.
Kurt’s songs have meanings. The lyrics to “In Bloom”, Kurt was pretty explicit about that. The lyrics he wrote have meanings. “Heart-Shaped Box”. You know what that refers to? When Courtney Love was flirting with Kurt, Michael Azerrad says in Come As You Are, “She gave Dave (Grohl) a package to give to Kurt – little sea shells and miniature teacups and a tiny doll, all packed into a small heart-shaped box.” A tiny doll locked away inside a box shaped like a heart. That was what I felt like before I came out. A tiny phantom doll. Kurt and Courtney first kissed after a show at the Cabaret Metro in Chicago. Rumor was that they fucked against the bar, but they denied it. What actually happened, Azerrad says, is that “Courtney had a bag of lingerie with her for some reason and Kurt ended up modeling the contents.” And then they went to Kurt’s hotel room and they fucked.
You’re making it sound…
Maybe it was. Because you look at that and you think that if it was like that, it was perverted and wrong, because that’s what you were told, that it’s a sick fetish thing, and I look at it and it isn’t. To me, that’s normal. That Kurt Cobain was sexually aroused while wearing Courtney Love’s lingerie, that’s normal.
Kate, he was a punk! He hated jocks, and wearing a dress pissed off jocks, so he wore dresses. He talked about wanting to wear a dress and piss on a redneck A&R man’s desk! You think that was some kind of sex thing?
Sexuality is part of being a woman. Part. Rage – and Kurt Cobain had a lot of rage inside him – that’s another part. Am I interpreting, am I looking at things from my perspective as a trans woman? Yes, certainly, just like you’re interpreting, looking at it from your perspective as a cis man. When cis people interpret things, their conclusion is never “they were trans”. Never.
Ed Wood wasn’t a trans woman. He was just a transvestite. He was a man.
Pete Burns from Dead or Alive wasn’t a trans woman. Sure, he got all sorts of feminizing surgeries, but he never said he was a woman. Man.
Prince Nelson adopted a female persona, feminized his voice, and recorded a song about wanting to be a woman's girlfriend, but he was also a Christian and believed that being queer was wicked and sinful, and that's the identity of his we need to respect. Man.
Richard Wright, who wrote the Phish song “Halley’s Comet”, spent most of the 1980s telling everyone he knew he was a transsexual lesbian named Nancy, but after being consistently treated like shit changed his mind about that, so none of that counts for anything. Man.
Dave Carter was on HRT when he died, but he was just questioning. He didn’t tell anybody for sure that he was a woman. Man.
Quentin Crisp said just before he died that if he was younger, he absolutely would have transitioned, but wanting to transition isn’t the same as actually transitioning. Man.
All men. Always, always men, whatever they do, whatever they say. I know how that works. I was told all these same things about myself for decades, all these same reasons, and now, I don’t know, I guess people will make a personal exception for me, but for everybody else, the same old assumptions, the same old arguments, they still apply. They’re still legitimate.
I thought we were talking about Kurt Cobain.
And the only way to do that is to talk about him in isolation. There’s no larger context to consider, no bigger picture. I can’t really know. I can’t really judge.
I mean, everybody else does. I guess I can’t tell you not to. But all of this circumstantial evidence, all of the dresses and the lyrics that you I guess know the real meaning of – none of that makes him a girl.
Sure. And nothing can make him a girl. Because he’s dead. Because he killed himself.
Oh, here we go. After thirty years and countless speculation, you have at last uncovered the real reason Kurt Cobain killed himself – gender dysphoria. Do you have a book deal yet?
Working on it. And yes, people say a lot of stupid things about Cobain’s death, like it’s this big shock that this guy who hated himself and wanted to die killed himself.
Right. He was pretty well-known for being a heroin addict, which isn’t exactly something that improves one’s quality of life.
Sure, but why did he start heroin?
I don’t know. Why does anybody start heroin?
To help him cope with his eating disorder.
Wait, what? Eating disorder?
You don’t know about that? He had stomach problems, for a long, long time. He could only eat certain kinds of food, certain kinds of food that wouldn’t make his stomach hurt. Doctors looked but they could never find any organic cause for it. Nobody took it seriously. So he self-medicated with heroin. “It was my choice,” he told Azerrad. “I don’t regret it at all because it was such a relief from not having stomach pain every day.” I know, though. Lots of cis guys have eating disorders. Doesn’t mean anything.
Kate there’s a lot of interpreting going on here.
Yeah, I guess there is. Is that necessarily a bad thing, though? Is that necessarily wrong? Like. You’ve seen The Matrix, right?
Only the first one.
Yeah, that’s fine. So you know how important The Matrix is to a lot of trans women, right?
Yes, but I’m not really sure why. Just seems like a retelling of Plato’s “Allegory of the Cave” with extra fight scenes.
It’s pretty trans, though, right?
Clearly. It was directed by two trans women.
And trans women who watch it – eggs or otherwise – find their own lives and experiences reflected in it in ways that cis people, like you, don’t.
I guess, but the fact that it was actually made by two trans women carries a little more weight with me.
OK, but what if the Wachowskis had died in 2000? In, like… a car crash or something? Does that mean The Matrix isn’t a trans film?
Well, no, because it’s still a film made by two trans women.
A film made by two trans women that speaks to the trans experience, and that is recognized by living trans women as speaking specifically to the trans experience. The only difference is that, in this scenario, nobody knows the Wachowski Sisters are trans women. And we can’t prove it. We can’t possibly prove it, and nobody is going to just believe us when we say it’s a trans movie, that the Wachowskis were trans women, because they didn’t say it, they didn’t say the special magic words. Self-determination. You know what self-determination meant to Kurt Cobain? I remember seeing Courtney Love on television reading his note, I remember her interrupting to say that he was an asshole, that what he was saying was bullshit. She didn’t respect his self-determination.
Um…
“Pennyroyal Tea”. Cobain told Azerrad “It's a cleansing theme where I’m trying to get all my bad evil spirits out of me and drinking Pennyroyal tea would cleanse that away.” Pennyroyal is an abortifacient – but, Azerrad notes, only in lethal doses.
Hell, not just that song. The whole album. In Utero. The collage on the back cover, the one Cobain described to Azerrad as “Sex and woman and In Utero and vaginas and birth and death". The occult symbols surrounding it, taken from Barbara G. Walker’s The Woman's Dictionary of Symbols and Sacred Objects1. There was something inside Kurt Cobain, something inside him waiting to be born, but he was told, over and over, that it was a monster, so he killed it, the only way he could. By killing himself.
That could have been me. That could so easily have been me. I was told all the same things he was. We all were. When I was 27? When I was 27, I was addicted to benzos, benzos they prescribed me because I was trying to bury, trying to kill this thing, this thing I had inside of me. I was a zombie. Walking dead. When I quit, I quit cold turkey. Nobody told me about the withdrawal syndrome. Nobody told me it could have killed me. And if it had, everybody would remember me, everybody would think of me, as a cis man. Forever. They would perpetuate the Lie. That’s why I transitioned, why I chose to go through all the shit I went through. The writer and musician Margaret Killjoy, in 2017 she talked about what she went through the day before she came out:
“All I could think was: ‘Oh god, I don’t want to die a boy.’”2
I felt the same way, came out for the same reason. I figured no matter what I did, I was dead. I didn’t do it live, but to at least have an honest death. I genuinely believed transition would kill me.
It didn’t, though! You’re alive and you’re beautiful and I’m so, so glad for that. It didn’t kill you.
It could have. Still could. Transition has helped, has made it easier for me, but it’s not that way with everyone. People have been kind to me, in ways that they aren’t kind to other trans women. Others of us… aren’t so lucky.
Who are we respecting, exactly, by remaining silent about our shared experiences, our shared perspectives, things we see that you fucking don’t, that you can’t see? Of course I can’t prove it. I can’t prove that I’m trans. You can’t prove that you’re cis. Cis people, though, cis people never have to prove anything. Their prejudices are the null hypothesis3. If I was to go out there and say that Kurt Cobain was a cisgender man, would anybody say I was wrong? Would anybody object or complain? Even though my saying that is an anachronism, is meaningless. The word, the concept, it literally didn’t exist when Cobain died. Have you ever heard the word “agnotology”?
No?
It means making a false claim to ignorance. Claiming that we don’t know something that we do. That we can’t know something that we can. We know things now, Chuck. We know what the symptoms of gender dysphoria are. We know what it does to people. How eggs think. How eggs act. How eggs die. But we pretend we don’t. We still pretend. We pretend suicide is an individual act, even when we know it’s not, that the reasons for it are wholly personal. We pretend that when someone dies by suicide, their reasons for doing so die with them. And they don’t, Chuck. We’re still dying, still dying for the same reasons Kurt Cobain did. It’s not just that we aren’t allowed to recognize ourselves. We aren’t allowed to recognize each other. Individual choice or social contagion. Those are the options we’re given. And neither of them are right. Neither of them are who we are.
Kurt Cobain wrote, thought, talked, died like eggs do. I don’t care if he never said the magic fucking words. We know our own. We recognize each other. And if someone is alive? If someone is alive I will go my whole life without ever breathing a word. Because as long as we’re alive, we do choose, and that means we can choose ignorance. What I think, what I want, for someone else, for us, it doesn’t matter. I do that, I follow that code, for the benefit of one person – the egg themselves. Once they die, all bets are off. Omerta no longer applies. Kayfabe no longer applies.
To be queer is to be erased, to experience erasure. I still hear straight men arguing, as if they have any right to argue, as if they know, that Emily Dickinson was not a lesbian. Emily Dickinson! I’m supposed to listen to people who say this shit? I’m supposed to take them seriously when they say well, actually, calling Dickinson a “lesbian” is historically anachronistic, we can’t apply the standards of the present to the past, and Jesus fuck have you read her letters? She liked girls. She really liked girls. Kurt Cobain was a trans woman. Kurt Cobain was every bit as much a trans woman as Emily Dickinson was a lesbian. Refusing to say it isn’t “respect”. It’s perpetuating the crime perpetrated against Cobain, against every other trans woman who ever killed herself because of the lies we were told about ourselves. No more. Kurt Cobain was a trans woman. I can’t, as an individual, say that. I don’t have the right. No trans woman can say that, individually. But collectively? All of us together? The things we see in each other, we see those things in him too. Not all of them, and not all of us. Absolutely not all of us. But enough of us. Enough that we have the right. We have the right, and I will fucking say it, and if you don’t like that, you can go fuck yourself.
Kate, are you ok?
I’m fine.
Do you want a hug?
Fuck you, Chuck.
OK, well. I’m, uh. Gonna go to the other room. You should, uh. Drink some water. Stay hydrated. Love you, Kate.
Love you too, Chuck. Sorry.
Shhh. It’s OK, Kate. It’s OK.
1 Diane Purkiss criticizes the occult nature of Walker’s encyclopedia in "Women's Rewriting of Myth", in Carolyne Larrington (ed), The Feminist Companion to Mythology, London, 1992, p. 444: “In Donna Haraway's influential terms, these women may wish to be goddesses, but they are cyborgs all the same”. The work she’s referencing is Haraway’s “A Cyborg Manifesto”. Haraway was, it happens, an academic advisor to the trans woman Sandy Stone, and her “Cyborg Manifesto” was a pivotal influence on Stone’s “The Empire Strikes Back: A Post-Transsexual Manifesto”, one of the foundational works of transgender theory.
2 Margaret Killjoy, https://birdsbeforethestorm.net/2017/06/im-not-even-going-to-try-to-pass/
3 Natalie Reed, https://freethoughtblogs.com/nataliereed/2012/04/17/the-null-hypothecis/
mornings
john lennon x reader
(era: teddy boy? or any era you would like.)
warnings: NO MATURE CONTENT, fluff, pet names?
——————————
john cursed silently as he accidentally put his hand onto the hot pan to feel if it was warm enough to start the eggs. it was. he was too focused on the burning sensation that he didn’t acknowledge you, his lovely girlfriend of 2 years, padding down the stairs, until you wrapped your arms around his torso.
“hey, baby.” you sleepily mumbled into his shoulder blades, he was still wearing his pyjamas. john was a morning person, very cautious to get to bed ON TIME and out of bed exactly at 7:30am on weekends (6:30am on weekdays.).
“the bloody pan was two hot!” he cried out, turning around and shoving his hand into your face, which you sleepily looked over.
“stop yer wining and stop vigorously moving yer hand so i can actually look at it!” you exclaimed, gently taking hold of his wrist to inspect. you lead him over to the sink and ran cold water over the now red and irritated skin.
“you should know how to treat burns.” you smiled slightly at his piercing glare at the pan on the stove. you kissed his hand after a few minutes of running it under water, and brought out some gauze and carefully wrapped the skin.
“thanks, love.” he muttered, his nasally scouse accent is one of the things that made you fall head over heels for him, not that he was popular, or any such things like that. you ruffled his messy chocolate brown hair.
you took over the cooking for now, as he watched the telly in the living room.
——————————
(p.s, i had to re post this bc it was tagged as mature 😭😭)
Obsessed "Baby, Only You!" It filled every inch of my heart with love! May I ask what your fave Beatles album and song are? Mine are Revolver and "Dear Prudence." May I also please make a request for Jack Hughes? Anything more with him and a more stoic/quiet in public girl, would love to see where your incredible mind takes you. The way he understands and defends is just...yes! I needed that lol. Please and thank you!
i’d do it a hundred more.
(JACK HUGHES x reader)
hey!! thank you so so so much literally this made my day. 🫶🏻
my fav beatle albums def are sgt peppers and help (i adore the movie), and my fav songs are the long and winding road, i want you (she’s so heavy), across the universe, sgt pepper’s lonely hearts club band and julia :))
warnings: no mature subjects, fluff, no proofread (you can tell i never proofread my stuff)
—————
you had always been a quiet kid, stoic and stern looking. that obviously lead to you having a resting bitch face, making not many people approach your phlegmatic gaze.
not many kids were your friends, forcing you to turn your back to society and do things yourself, cold walls lifting to sternly keep out outsiders.
that was,
until jack. he melted those ice walls, wiggling himself in a short period of time, to be the centre of your universe. you fell in love with this man, the way his wide smile made your lips curl into a grin, the way his blue eyed gaze was boyish and gentle, the way he reassured you when a girl tried to get his number and hit on him, he stood up for you, most important of all. he was your everything.
he understood everything about you, your reactions, how you felt in public and how you were the most loud and outgoing person on the inside, when it was just them two, locked away giggling together.
jack held your heart and kept it protected, he knew your past, and you like the back of his hand, so he made it his part to protect you from jabs that people made.
one of his teammates girlfriends took a shot in mocking you and jack was sure to glare at her and tell her off.
“why do you look like that? you aren’t even in jacks league. don’t even pretend you aren’t not trying in the relationship.” the girlfriend snootily said, her boyfriend did nothing in reply to defend you. you glanced towards jack and could see him get angry, so you squeezed his knee, but he still started to yell at the girl, making her jaw drop and her eyes open wide.
“you don’t know her!”
“don’t ever speak about her in that way!”
“don’t speak on our relationship!”
jack roughly grabbed your hand and walked you out.
“you didn’t have to do that.” you said quietly, kicking some tiny rocks on the pavement with your shoe.
“for you? i’d do it a hundred more times.”
—————
sorry if this ain’t any good but
🫶🏻❤️🤍
Can i rq a ringo x reader were the reader is an assistant for The beatles and is really burnt out and tired and ringo tried to care for them?<3
What’s up buddy 😝😝
Hello! First req ahh n this is so cute !!!
If I fell in love with you
Warnings: FLUFF. (And John being annoying.) (and bad writing.)
You happened to be an assistant to one of the biggest bands at the time, and it was absolutely lovely. Just kidding!! The Beatles made it a bit more difficult to work, John who would take his sarcastic and idiotic comments and remarks to a whole new level, eventually annoying the living crap out of you. George was okay, but he honestly talked your EAR of when he had the chance, how could anyone CONSIDER him the ‘quiet Beatle’? Paul was… okay, he had very pretty eyes, though. And then there was little old Ringo. He wasn’t as annoying. He had a pretty voice.
Brian had assigned you to keep an eye on the boys in a hotel in America, as it was their first time, and they strictly needed to stay in the hotel at all times for the show the following day.
“Would’ya pass me the water, Macca?” John asked innocently, his nasally British accent rang out. Paul passed over the salt as he had a burger half in his mouth. John grinned. ‘Oops.’ He muttered, still smiling as he poured the whole jug on Paul’s head. Macca’s eyes widened as the water trickled down his face and clothes, and he slowly turned to John. “It’s on, Lenny.” Paul picked a handful of whatever the heck was on the table, and hurled it towards John.
“Boys, please-“ you tried to interrupt, knowing their suits were freshly washed, dried, and ironed by indeed, you. You sighed deeply and wiped a hand down your face. You shouldn’t have signed up for this position. It was silly.
“John, food down!” Your voice raised slightly, a thing you never did, catching the attention of John, who put down the food and shrugged, still giggling at Paul, and Paul was doing the same. You could never control these boys, and it was like a war zone job if you did say so yourself.
After the food fight, no, literal war, you went back to your room and curled up on the bed, staring at the ceiling, praying to God that tomorrow wouldn’t be as bad.
A soft knock was heard on the thick wood of the door.
“Come in!” You hollered, (your nationality) accent wavered a tad.
The door creaked open. Maybe it was a serial killer? Just kidding.
Ringo stood in the doorway, plate in hand.
“hi.” You said, rushing to sit up and fix your skirt and hair, nodding in the process.
“Hello, love.” Ringo nodded, stepping farther into the threshold of your room. “Brought ‘ye supper.” He said softly, approaching your bed. You studied his face, his nose, and how his eyes were a perfect china shade of blue. You noticed how his hair falls on his forehead, and how the brown colour accentuated his rosy red cheeks.
“Why are you doing this for me?” You ask quietly, taking the plate, fingers heating up from the bottom of the plate.
“‘Cuz yer workin’ hard, and John n Paul n Goergie ain’t makin’ it easy for ye.” He shrugged and sat beside you, smiling a bit.
Gosh, his smile.
“Aww, Ringo.” You blush, smiling slightly. He smiled back and put his hand on your shoulder, squeezing it slightly and getting up. “I’m gonna run you a bath.” He grinned playfully, running off into the bathroom.
How sweet. Maybe being The Beatles assistant isn’t that bad. <3
(Ik this isn’t really the req im sorry i had trouble thinking of stuff : , ( )
“FASHIONABLY LATE” by Joshua Harker
Details & prints available here: https://joshharker.com/fashionably-late
can u do more nirvana related things? preferably kurt? tysm have a great day <3
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⠀⠀⠀⠀◌⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀❞ no need to credit ˚ . . ˚ . . ⠀ ⠀ like and reblog if using ❤︎
. . ˚ . . ˚ . . ˚ . ⠀⠀♫⠀⠀⠀♡⠀⠀cd 001
. . ⠀⠀⠀⠀◌⠀⠀⠀⠀؛ ଓ lmk what u make with these !
⠀⠀⠀╭⠀⠀⠀𝘯𝘰 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘵⠀⠀⠀❤︎⠀⠀⠀𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘴𝘰𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 ◞
i must have died alone, a long, long time ago
no like i’m having a great time lol. dumb by nirvana dumb by nirvana dumb by nirvana dumb by nirvana dumb by nirvana dumb by nirvana dumb by nirvana dumb by nirvana dumb by nirvana dumb by nirvana dumb by nirvana dumb by nirvana dumb by nirvana. haha it’s so great
um uh uhhh i uh
here's middle aged baby girl
they threw him in the pool ☹️💔
IM GONNA GO TO SEATTLE AT SOME POINT!!!!!
KURT HERE I COME 🎊🎊🎊
it's a win for me 👏
how many times is he going to talk about nirvana beans
so this guy right
like . this is about him correct
Now consider: a man in a dress. Not in drag or all dressed up or anything. No accessories, no makeup or styling, just wearing the dress, some ratty boxers and muddy sneakers. No socks or stockings, hairy legs in the open air, just raw dogging those nasty shoes. Hair mildly damp. Visibly sleep-deprived. Bruises on shoulders, elbows and knees, left palm bleeding. Sitting on a curb on the street, shivering, looking wretched, and absolutely miserable.
I forgot where I was going with this.
hnnfnnhnggnhn i am normal about this man
made a compilation of kurt's moans and groans in floyd the barber 'cause I don't have any personal life
do you ever say fuck it and put on this vid and let him yap for 37 minutes and 57 seconds?
Fucking better have
Okay so we’re getting that Season 4 renewal
mamas a girl behind u
Dave Grohl
Kurt Cobain
life update
sisters tennis thing is over with, now i’m in the car. mom is smoking outside, i can smell it. it’s definitely not my favorite smell in the world, i can’t wait to get lung cancer from second hand smoke!! phone is charging, back at 22% now. it’s so hot in the car. Drain You by Nirvana just finished and now i’m listening to American River by Destroy Boys. i miss my boyfriend. siiighhhh. just got a lil bugger off my hand. also i in fact did not get any videos of my sister. perchance. ugh im baking in this car. i saw someone with a Kill Em All shirt, it was lit!!!
moms grabbing another cig?? no nevermind this is lit. listening to War Pigs by black sabbath now. i think my mom feels better? she seemed a bit down after the tennis thing. it’s alright though, we’re lit. phone is at 25% now!! we’re going back to my city now. i feel like saying city means they’re super far apart, but it doesn’t feel that way. we’re actually going to another city which isn’t mine, but close. i’m kind of tired, but i’m glad to be hanging out with my mom :3
life update
currently listening to sweating bullets by megadeth, song is almost over. i’m sitting in the truck at circle K waiting for my mom. idk what she’s picking up but i think a drink. yeah a monster. white monster. the spray paint one. yay!! now we’re off to my sisters tennis thing!! smells like teen spirit by nirvana just came on! she’s opening the can and gonna sip it soon, after we get outta the parking lot. typing this in real time
There goes my hero
Happy Birthday Dave Grohl // January 14, 1969.
