Re: Crying in the Night - Words for All of You

Le jeudi 8 avril 1999 =C3=A0 09:00:00 UTC+2, Wildy Petoud a =C3=A9crit=C2=
=A0:
> I've been trolling for this newsgroup for some time, and I just wanted
> to share a story because I have been hoping for about, oh, what? Five
> years now? That Ms. brite could hear the little anecdote, as unlikely as
> it might be.
> My name is Kurt Draven(yes, it is my real name, and no, this *isn't* my
> e-mail account, it's my fiancee's - Wildy Petoud of Switzerland, of
> "Splatterpunks 2" fame), and I front a band called Broken Messiah. . .
> all of this may be horribly irrelevant but from the first I've found
> Poppy's works to be, well, about myself and everything and nothing,
> about all that makes me what I am, all that drives me, the darkness I
> dance with and the fear I embrace. The rage and blood inherent in rock
> music. The sex of immolation and resurrection.
> And my initiation into her works was the story I wanted to tell. .
> .five years ago, when I was living as a street rat in downtown
> Boston/Cambridge, Massachusetts, trying rather unsuccessfully to score a
> job or some money or something so I could hole up and concentrate on my
> songwriting, skipping between friends' couches and floors and the whole
> trip, painting and getting hot chocolate from the street kids' aid and
> going twice-weekly to the needle exchange, looking for the meaning of it
> all - no, I *knew* the meaning, knew the pointlessness and the
> faithlessness, and was trying to scream in reds and purples so that
> someone *else* might know. . .=20
> Anyway, one late morning I was sitting on the edge of concrete in what
> the locals call "The Pit", by the Harvard Square T station, dressed head
> to foot in black, black spiky hair(I'd done it all by then, known the
> allure of scars and drugs and rock and roll toward transcendence), and
> this tall, almost wispy man came over to me with no prompting. He was
> very feminine looking, almost beautiful, dressed in flowing black and
> lace, and so skinny it hurt, with black curly hair. . . he came up to me
> and told me I was "very androgynous in an attractive sort of way"(I look
> younger and more fragile than I am), and that he thought I was sexy,
> etc., he sat down next to me, we talked a little about music and art and
> whatever - he told me his name was September, I thought that was
> beautiful - and then seemingly from out of nowhere he produced a book
> and handed it to me.=20
> "I want you to take this and read it," he said, "I think it's for you.
> I think you'll really get something out of it. And when you're done with
> it, you can give it back to me - ask around, people know me. Or, just
> pass it on to someone else you think needs it."
> The book? "Lost Souls".
> I never saw him again.
> The book moved me, sure enough, and years later in mid-album(more scars
> and tracks, tattoo but more poetry too) I found "Drawing Blood", and
> again I was off. Art and madness, sex and death, and capturing the
> horrors in ink. Amen, Poppy. It's all right there.
> Sorry if I'm long-winded. But listen: ANYONE out there can e-mail me,
> at any time, about anything, at this address. (We're in Europe now.) I
> always answer, always. And if anyone out there feels the same and wants
> to send me anything; poetry, etc., I'm always here. And tapes of my own
> stuff are free.=20
> Faith, you all. Thanks for the forum. Shine.
>=20
> Kurt D.
hello kurt