goodbye kurt and fuck the free market

This picture seems horrible, I realize, voyeuristic, paparazzi-like, depicting two total fuck-ups of parents, who, if not for their millions, would probably have had that baby taken away for good by this point.

but then again, maybe not. 

I see that side of this--the "Oh my god, that baby is going to fall!" side but I also see what's behind this--the arm I'm sure Courtney has wrapped tight under her baby, feeling like she has to protect not only herself but also her baby and maybe even her husband from a press that wants nothing more than to see them all fall so that they have something juicy to write about and take pictures of.

Schanedfreude as a multi-million dollar industry.

I don't blame the press for Kurt's death, or Courtney, or his parents who divorced and didn't love him enough, or the dealers who sold him the drugs, or the friend who bought the gun for him. 

I also realize that had Kurt lived, the thinking surrounding him would be quite different now.  Maybe he'd have travelled in and out of countless rehabs--maybe he'd still be using today, but at this point, he'd be 48 years old...He'd probably have learned to maintain and hide it a bit better or at the very least the public would grow tired enough of him that the drama wouldn't be quite so high; he'd be able to recover from his falls somewhat more privately.

It is simple coincidence that I just finished reading a biography of him, Heavier than Heaven.  I was at Saver's a couple of weeks ago with my 3 year old, trying to get "open and close" books for him when I saw the dust jacket, a full-face black and white picture of Kurt smiling beatifically on the cover, tendrils of dirty blond hair hanging down in front of one eye.  He looks bright, warm, mischievous--nothing like the petulant, selfish, attention-starved junky I'm sure he was at times.

I can't imagine what it would have been like to have been him, or anyone else, for that matter, even those closest to me, even my own son, who is on a literal level a part of me.

I think what I maybe can relate to in Kurt is the attractive pain of adolescent angst--that struggle to separate self from other while still feeling a sense of communion.  So much of the adult, straight world just seems to say "Fuck it; every man for himself--survival of the fittest," etc. etc. But the adolescent must figure out 1. what that means and 2. how much of that kind of value system is really worth having, if any and finally 3. how much and in what way that sort of cavalier selfishness can be resisted....

It's almost like we are embarrassed to love. That we see love not as a liberating practice but as a relic of the 60s, like bell bottoms, cute to try on once in a while but impractical for everyday use.

Maybe if anything killed Kurt other than himself, it is this---this attitude, this ethos of a free market capitalism in which it is every man for himself and if you get fucked, you've only yourself to blame for bending over.