Louis

I became friends with Louis late in grade school, even though we'd been attending the same school since like 2nd grade or earlier. We became friends because we were generally recognized as the artists of the class/school, and it just seemed to make sense. We are largely antithetical, although if there were one person who really understood my humor completely, it would be him. I can say "I pi R squared protein in the brain" and he will respond in kind with something along the lines of "Warmeanie, cloudmeanie, shark-cloudmeanie, fuckin carbone" to which I will then respond "SHADdup yeeeouuuu." It ONLY makes sense to us, and even then only slightly. I said that we are antithetical because I prize nature and exercise and pushing my limits physically and mentally. I eat insanely healthy food only, and am constantly evaluating things. He sleeps as much as possible, exists entirely on frozen pizza and can't run a neighborhood block. He hopes to die before he turns 40 just to avoid having to endure aging poorly (whereas I would rather gird myself in advance for a long lifetime of healthy and exciting aging).

I moved in with him (and Ashlee) after we graduated high school, and lived there for about 3 years. I lost my virginity in that house (to Julee, not Louis). My relationship with Julee wilted and re-blossomed in that house. I learned who I was, and experienced various extremes in that house (I was my most muscular in that house, as well as nearly my fattest/sloppiest/weakest).

Louis graduated college with a Fine Arts degree, which is appropriate because he is one of the most gifted artists that I have ever known. He not only has technical ability, but also unique vision which is the most important aspect of art anyways. He does not pursue this with enough vigor though. I wish that he would quit the bank job and give himself to art. But that is not fair of me to ask of him.

Louis acts like he doesn't give a shit, and he sort of doesn't. Really though, he is dangerously fragile, and desperately alone. He would like to have a girlfriend, but he has terribly high expectations and unrealistic standards. He needs to get his feet wet, but he is afraid of water. In fact, his toes are cracked and bleeding. Do you understand?

"People are bastard-covered bastards with bastard filling."
- Dr. Robert Kelso