A dream of a clone of Axel Rose releasing Chinese Democracy, and starting to tour it, when the REAL Axel Rose attacks him on stage, gripping him in a headlock and harrangues the clone and the audience, saying ‘the record isn’t fucking ready yet’.

By age 28 I looked out onto a world through eyes that had seen more life than the hurt voice on the playlists. By 33 I’d had beer with a fellow who followed Cobain’s example by rounding off his 29 years with a sleep, bookending my own experience with the extra two years on either end. What is life beyond a mindstream experiencing sense impressions? The gossamer thoughts between the ears, the holograms of remembered scenes beyind the eyes, and the occasional flood of music to soup it up. And for some, the movie ends quicker, the awareness peeling itself away from the inside of the skull and walking into a sunny parking lot to find the car.

Kurt Cobain passes out in with noise and a hurt head. This is beyond the temporary amnesia of a concussion, for he comes to having forgoten everything, including where he left his body. He now finds himself a baby, then a child, and now is suffering through school, aged about thirteen. Perhaps now he is a girl? This teenager’s bedroom is covered in posters of rockstars, and perhaps there is a Niravana poster there as well? This Kurt-tulku thinks Kurt Cobain rocked, complelty oblivious to the fact that he’s the same mind. But this is to speculate on something unpredicatable.

Perhaps he’s a pigeon, a dog, your gerbil, or a cat. Perhaps he became a salmon and was eaten in a resaturant.

But in my imagination, this Kurt kid is starting a high school band, discovering he has a fucking great talent for music.