Librarian Note: There is more than one author in the Goodreads database with this name.See also:Charles R. CrossThis is Charles R. Cross, a rock music journalist and author based in Seattle. He is the founder of Backstreets magazine, a periodical for fans of Bruce Springsteen, editor of "Springsteen: the Man and His Music," a compilation of Backstreets articles, and is also author of a biography of Kurt Cobain, titled Heavier Than Heaven. His most recent release is entitled Room Full Of Mirrors - A Biography Of Jimi Hendrix.In 2004, while conducting research for the Hendrix book, Cross rediscovered the gravesite of Jimi Hendrix's mother, Lucille Jeter Hendrix, in an abandoned section of Greenwood Memorial Park, where Jimi Hendrix himself is buried in an elaborate granite memorial. The gravesite of Lucille Hendrix was lost because the standard welfare marker of her day, an inscribed brick, became buried in decades of mud from the area's notorious heavy rains. Cross delivered a moving eulogy for Lucille when a proper headstone was dedicated at the site.Courtney Love, the widow of Kurt Cobain, has acquired the rights to Heavier Than Heaven, which is now being made into a film by Universal Pictures. This is the first film to be made from Cross' work.
In Newcastle, Kurt announced from the stage, “I am a homosexual, I am a drug user, and I fuck pot-bellied pigs,” another classic Cobainism, though only one of his three claims was true.
Though Kurt would later claim that his graffiti messages were political, in fact, most of what he wrote was nonsensical. He enraged a neighbor with a boat by painting “Boat Ack” in red letters on the ship’s hull; on the other side he lettered, “Boat people go home.
Being unemployed, Kurt set in motion a routine that he would follow for the rest of his life. He would rise at around noon and eat a brunch of sorts. Kraft Macaroni and Cheese was his favorite food. After eating, he would spend the rest of the day doing one of three things: watching television, which he did unceasingly; practicing his guitar, which he did for hours a day, usually while watching TV; or creating some kind of art project, be it a painting, collage, or three-dimensional installation. This last activity was never formal— he rarely identified himself as an artist—yet he spent hours in this manner.
He had the desperation, not the courage, to be himself. Once you do that, you can’t go wrong, because you can’t make any mistakes when people love you for being yourself. But for Kurt, it didn’t matter that other people loved him; he simply didn’t love himself enough.
He was able to sit in silence for long stretches without feeling a need to make small talk. .
