Go On, Take Everything

Poor poor Courtney Love. She's been sentenced to rehab for 18 months. THANK GOD. Get this woman out of public viewing already; she's just a absolute trainwreck.

I shouldn't be so judgemental, I know. I don't know the woman and she's probably going through a very tough time, losing her daughter and having unspecified gynecological issues and everything. All I know about her would stem from personal experience. Just this one night...

I had my own encounter with Ms. Love back in December, which involved her flopping her hair extensions and body around a lot and poking people in the shoulder while yelling at them about things that no one really understood. I heard her say something about astrology once, and then get really angry at someone for walking away from her. Mind you, she wasn't talking to that person, who didn't realize that just leaving the same space as Courtney Love could destroy Courtney's delicate semblance of sanity. She’d been across the street at another club earlier, storming the stage and stealing the spotlight from the band that was already on it. (That band was one of the nicest bands in the world, Let's Go Sailing, and they wrote about their adventure with Ms. Love too.) 

The whole reason why Courtney was there at Tangiers was because the LA Weekly had written a blurb about the band performing that night - the Hard Place. The writer said something like "If you missed the White Stripes at (insert tiny dive club here) or Nirvana at (insert even tinier divier club here), then you'll feel the same way years from now about missing this show." Courtney took this to mean: "See this show because this band sounds like Nirvana." I only think this because she kept yelling, "You don't sound like Nirvana!" at points during the show, and afterwards, she rubbed up against the Sickboy-clone lead singer.

She wore yellow caution tape ripped from a construction site across her chest like a sash, a striped off the shoulder new wave top which kept falling lower than the shoulder, and a black mini skirt.   As she left the scene, she yelled “Get me back to Promises!” from the van she was being driven in. Promises is the name of a rehab center out here, but I was later told it’s not the one she was supposed to be checked into at that time. Whatever. She was everything I expected her to be – a total mess. We were all amused and frightened at the same time. 

Well, I'm glad she's getting the help she needs. And now there won't be masses of TV crews blocking traffic in front of the Beverly Hills Courthouse on my way to work in the morning.