I’m going cuckoo bananas thinking about the deaths of Kurt Cobain, Jeff Buckley, Jim Morrison, Sylvia Plath, Amy Winehouse, Marylin Monroe, Jimi Hendrix, James Dean, Bob Marley, Diana, Selena, Janis Joplin, Albert Camus, Franz Kafka, etc. It’s like there’s a deep tragedy planted within genius, that knowing is too much. That everyone else hides away from the truth, they are enlightened by in there words. That they knew that the sadness of truth was running for them to paint them blue, so they ran free and wild and tragically till falling as they where and ever shall be. May they rest in peace, the beautiful and gifted only ever die young. I really hope it’s not contagious.
