Smells like (short) nostalgia

Screw you, Charles R. Cross. Screw you and Heavier Than Heaven. Screw you and your research. Now I can’t let a whole day pass without listening to either Bleach or Nevermind or In Utero… and feeling the soul-crushing weight of April 1994 again. Screw you and your damn book to hell.

Of course, I’m aware that many have dismissed Heavier Than Heaven for being based mostly on the narrative of the most untrustworthy of sources — the blabbermouth Widow. But that doesn’t make his story any less painful, at least to me, a 90s kid who’s more than just a casual listener of his band and, for good or ill, considers him some sort of a personal hero, corny as it sounds.

Now excuse me while I scratch old wounds.

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