NNWM/18: Cobain Bonding

What a great way to spend a Monday night.  Records, alcohol, candles, and lava lamps.  It’s cold and windy outside, but cozy and warm in our apartment.  A close game of Gin (I didn’t win) and turkey tacos.  A typical Friday night that has turned into one of our favorites.  Mark calls it our Monday night because of the upcoming holiday weekend.  We only have to work three and a half of the next nine days.  Weather permitting, a week from now we’ll be a hundred miles east of home, drinking in a local dive bar after spending the day exploring the Painted Hills.

That was my lovely wife, Tara. She used to blog here, long ago. Y’all miss her? I do. Maybe the occasional guest post is just the ticket! And she’s right. We are tentatively planning a getaway next weekend. Just an overnighter. But it all depends on the weather, which can be fickle this time of year. So we shall see.

So today I befriended a police officer. I walked into the local coffee shop around the corner from where I work for a mid-afternoon Americano. There was a cop in there, and he spied my Nirvana shirt. “Have you ever been to Aberdeen?” he asked. Kurt’s hometown. Yessir, I told him. He then asked if I’d been by Kurt’s childhood home. “Why else would anybody go to Aberdeen?!” I asked. This led to a long conversation about Kurt Cobain. Turns out this guy used to work on the Aberdeen police force and some of his fellow officers had run-ins with the young Mr. Cobain. We had a very good talk, I recommended he watch a Nirvana documentary, he whipped out his note pad and wrote down the name, and we parted ways. I almost hope I get a traffic ticket now so my new friend can rip it up and say, “Oh well, whatever. Nevermind.”


Word Count Today: 1,304.
Total Word Count: 31,209.


Categories: Writing

Tags: , , , , , ,

5 replies

  1. I’m grinning from ear to ear about your new friend pulling you over. Good luck with that!


  2. LOVE. IT.
    We watched “Soaked in Bleach” –at least I think that was the name of it LOL….I now share the same feelings as my 18 year old son: Curt was murdered.


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