Stuck in the Tape Deck

On Friday April 8th, 1994, Kathleen and I were driving to the college library in her mom's Chevy Cavalier. We were listening to the radio which seemed to be playing all Nirvana songs, no matter what station we put on. We must have had off from school for Spring Break because otherwise we never would have had access to the car. Anyway, there we were driving down to the light on Hartford and 130 when it was announced that Kurt's body had been found. We drove the rest of the way kind of stunned. I mean, rock stars died in the 1960s, not now. And certainly not Kurt Cobain. After a half hour, we reached the college and decided, "Fuck it, let's just drive around." So there we were, Kath driving and me shotgun smoking leftover cigarette butts from the ashtray cuz I'd smoked all mine and got denied at the convenience store since I was underage. I was sick of the radio saying "The body of Nirvana lead singer Kurt Cobain..." so I told Kathleen to put something else on, anything else. "Well, the fucking tape is jammed in the fucking tape deck." "I don't care. What tape is it?" was my response. "It's got The Cranberries [Everybody Else Is Doing It...] and then Pearl Jam Ten on the flip side." Perfect. And so the rest of the afternoon we drove through the Pine Barrens and just chilled listening to The Cranberries and Pearl Jam over and over and over. Then I got home and had three messages from friends asking how I was, since they knew how much I liked Kurt. For his music, for his words, for his style, his fabulous face, and for what he meant to the sad girl in the back of the class in high school. He was a lovely imaginary friend to have.