Still feelin’ ’90’s sexy today in  black biker boots, a tank top and a floral silk robe. It’s really perfect though, because I found out one of the most important albums of the past 2 decades came out 20 years ago today…

I can’t even get started on what this album means to me… and the rest of the American youth, for that matter. I can only handle at most one day a week of deep reminiscence [see earlier post entitled oh.my.god]– recalling the many phases of my highly developed, eclectic music taste that originated in the brightest days of my late youth. Too much emotion.  All I can say is, Nirvana was the band I shared the most with my friend Morgan. She and I got matching star tattoos on our necks when we were 15.  She was a little insane and talked a lot of shit about me behind my back, but we had the best sleepovers and night drives and I never stopped loving her as a friend. In a way, her obsession with the few bands she loved enhanced my perception of the same music, and a lot of other things. As kids, it’s the insane, obsessive people we encounter who show us the extent to which one can care about one particular thing. Typically, this isn’t a good thing, but when it’s a band or a type of music that the person cares about, that obsession is really just some sort of beautifully desperate, unequivocal love. So, thank you Morgan for showing me what it means to really be crazy about something.

I hear this song and I just remember her and I laying in her bed in our underwear in the dark at 2 in the afternoon on a Saturday, kicking our tiny legs up towards the ceiling to the beat of the song, talking shit and staring at the Kurt posters all over her room… just bein’ girls.


About TARA

American Photographer. Musician. Writer. Science enthusiast.
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