Last Thursday a young girl was squished to death during a Hole concert in Sweden (during the Hultsfred festival). That just got to me (and a lot of others, naturally.) It's just so sad. I don't think anyone's really to blame, not Courtney (despite her invitation to the audience to get on stage which of course intensified the pressure up front.), not the festival security, not the audience, it was just one of those awful accidents.

Witnesses reported that about an hour before she was found dead 90 feet away from the stage near the mixer table they had seen the girl body-surfing her way up towards the stage.

I think of the intense joy she might have felt, being carried by hundreds of hands towards a stage with a raving Courtney Love on it. No one seems to know what happened to her. Did suddenly those hands stop pushing her up, up, and forwards? Did she fall? Did anyone really notice?

In my head I think back at those concerts I've been to. Being pressed and squished together by thousands of warm bodies that all sway and move. Moments where it felt like I hadn't seen water for hours unless it was in the form of our collective sweat mixing wildly. Desperately stretching my arms and head up to catch the spray from the hoses to catch a few drops that always seemed too few. Refusing to give up my spot and move to the side or get sucked back despite the fact that the artist on the stage sucked.

And then I think of the girl who finally got to see the band she really liked live and somehow died.

Stephen King, 51, was in serious but stable condition Sunday after undergoing extensive surgery Saturday night. He will remain in the hospital for several more days and will have more surgery this week.

The best-selling author suffered multiple fractures of his right leg and hip, a collapsed lung caused by several broken ribs and cut scalp Saturday afternoon when he was hit from behind by a van while walking along Route 5 in North Lovell, a small mountain town 115 miles southwest of Bangor, where King lives most of the year.

Oxford County Sheriff's Deputy Matt Baker said the driver, 41-year-old Bryan Smith of Fryeburg, lost control of his Dodge Caravan about 4:30 p.m. after being distracted by his dog, which was loose inside the vehicle.

For more stories on this, Click Here, or look at his Official Site for frequent updates, and an adress to send get-well cards and letters. (I'm actually going to send a card. :/)

My brother initially found a notice on this in a paper he was reading yesterday and read it out loud to me. It really shocked me. I'm glad to hear he's doing all right, but even so, it really shook me up.

I guess there are some people that seem immortal to me. It's not that I think think they are more than 'regular' people, I know they're not. It's just hard when people who have indirectly contributed things to my life go through things like this because it sends ripples in my reality.

It's a bit like how a lot of us felt when Princess Diana died. Unreal, somehow. I don't spend hours and hours of my life thinking about Stephen King, but I have spent hours and hours reading 31 (thirty-one) of his novels and other writings. He was the first horror-writer I stumbled upon, and is also one of the few authors I keep up with and look forward to read new publications by.

His books have been there for me to pick up and get sucked into and scared by since I was 13 years old and picked up Carrie up until 3 weeks ago when I read Bag of Bones.

It's not that I see him as some mythical being. It's just... strange when somebody you don't know shares stories that hstill swirl around and make you think years afterwards.

Oh hell, I don't know what I'm trying to babble about. Just... hmm, a get-well wish, sort of.

They broadcasted about 4-5 hours live from the Hultsfred Festival saturday night. I can't tell you how odd it feels to sit and giggle at a live prolifically spitting Marilyn Manson with your mom. In fact, mom popped in every now and then and watched the bands perform with me. She didn't seem too impressed with Monster Magnet, Marilyn Manson, or Hole, but she did seem to like Brett Anderson in Suede, even though she couldn't understand what he was saying when interviewed (no Swedish subtitles). My mom never seize to amaze me.

My Grandmother was moved from our house to an Old People's home today. It was hard to cheer her up about it when I don't really support that decision either. :/

Also, oddly enough - I don't really like swedish chocolate that much anymore. I don't know if it's American chocolate which has damaged me (though I really don't like that either), or if my taste just changed. It's simply too.. sweet.

Argh. I must be sick. Heh. I'll go buy some right now and convince myself it's just as delicious as it used to me, because chocolate is NEVER bad.

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