Friday, February 07, 2003

Cool Keith...

Greatest influence in my life?

No, not Liam Gallagher, Rama, Osiris, Gwen Stacey or Boz of The Grand Ennui.
Not that big guy up above either. No, not that jerk - I was talking about Charles Lindbergh. That was a stupid joke.

Anyway...the single, greatest influence I've ever had in my life, was a friend that I had when I was five or something. Ackward sentence? Yes. My father used to drop me off at his house and Keith's mother would babysit us. I don't remember how my father knew Keith's mom. Keith's mom was pretty cool as far as I can remember. And what really qualifies as cool to a five year old? Did she let me watch shitty kung-fu movies? Did she make me grilled cheese sandwiches with the crusts cut off? Did she let me make out with her? Did she teach me how to write? Obviously, no. Whatever. She was cool, punk.

I had so much fun with Keith. He had alot of energy. We'd run around in the backyard, play hide and seek, bulid Lego towers and smash them down with our heads, we would scream alot. Out loud, out the window, at the mom, at the moon, whatever. She'd just laugh.

My father never understood me for the genius that I was. He'd get mad at me all of the time. I was always in trouble for something stupid that I did. I'd chop some furniture up with a kitchen knife or rip off all of my clothes in the night. I had an older brother to egg me on. He thought I was funny. So, if somebody else thinks I'm funny, that makes me funny, right? And I should continue, right?

What this boils down to is that my father started to notice that I was starting to act even stupider than normal. He said that I started making up my own language and then I taught it to my older brother. Now, not only did he have one idiot speaking idiot nonsense - he had two little idiots running around speaking gibberish. We stopped playing with our toys normally. We would just nudge them around or stare at them. My father had to re-teach us how to speak and how to play with toys like normal children. My father finally found out that Keith was retarded and I slowly stopped being dropped off at his house. And that was it. i don't know what happened to Keith or his cool mom. I don't know what type of explanation that my father finally gave. All that I know is that Keith was more fun than many of the people that I met years after that, and more honest.

Yeah, he was retarded.
I am too.
So are you.
My girlfriend has been vacuuming the house.
This story was poopy.


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