...the Storytelling Fairies must have a Sense of Humor!!

 

 

https://www.npr.org/2021/11/24/1057250055/dave-grohl-storyteller-from-nirvana-to-foo-fighters

The most recent scene I'm editing in Hawthorn Moon introduces the up-and-coming early '90's Seattle grunge band, Nirvana. So, again, within hours of the editing what do I hear on the radio but a remarkable NPR Fresh Air interview of David Grohl, former Nirvana drummer, recently inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame for his work with his band the Foo Fighters.

Okay, so yes, more remarkable Synchronicity, but here's where a "sense of humor" comes in...yes, incredible that at this point in my editing "Nirvana" should be featured on a national media stage in 2021...but more...David Grohl has written a memoir...titled...

THE STORYTELLER!!!!!

 

Tell me the Storytelling Fairies don't have a sense of humor!!

 

HAWTHORN MOON SCENE MENTIONING NIRVANA

 

 

“Dear November…during this month of the Hawthorn Moon, if you select your soulmate, the one who will be the Truth in the bevy of false suitors—that person will become the one true magical love you will ever need. Go get it, girl. Your life can be a fairytale. It’s not so complex anymore…a simple beautiful love. People would give years of their lives to have ten minutes of the love they would see in you with your beloved. A life like that is almost like being in heaven, and believe me I would know. On the other hand, if you should choose one of the comely others, for the wrong reasons, and granted they are all sweet, you will be fated to dilly-dally around with two or three mid level lovers at the same time for the rest of your life. Not without some happiness, mind you, but much exhaustion, drama, and love triangles will follow you to your grave—your days full of secrets and trysts, falling in and out of love over and over and over again.”

After delivering that prophetic warning, shaking me to the core, like God delivering the Ten Commandments to Moses on Mount Sinai, Lady Luna began vocalizing a rather disturbing melody—thrash edgy, defiant…not at all Camelot. Of course I totally liked it.

“What are you humming?” I asked her.

“Oh…Nirvana.”

Then, right on cue, a vision of her prophesy began to unfold right above my head as dozens of pitchers full of sloshing beer appeared, I suppose representing my many male suitors, marching in lockstep unison, like in Fantasia with the sorcerer’s apprentice, Luna the sorcerer, wearing her magic hat; the broomstick suitors—coming…coming…coming…coming.

The sky opened. I cried with pure May rain joy—drenched with amorous men ready to proclaim their undying love and devotion.

The feeling of being desired was an admitted vain weakness of mine and I need it like a crack addict needs their next fix, so much so I couldn’t tell the difference between being in love and loving to be loved.