For Fuck’s Sake, Les.

Category: dribblings

I met my pal Leslie probably in middle school, but I don’t remember talking to her until high school when we had a bajillion art classes together. She was so funny, sarcastic, loved Stevie Nicks, and when I wanted to join the soccer team she was all, “Okay, let’s do it.” Even though we were not sporty. Even though she smoked before and after practice. Even though all the running used to make her hurl. Even though we never got to play a single game.

Les showed me that you could wear black, stompy boots and still be feminine. You could have an older boyfriend and it wasn’t a big deal. You could skip the pep rally and be a better person for it.

If not for Les I’d never have heard of Tori Amos much less go see her 6 times, and get to shake her hand, and get her autograph. And I’d not have a clue about how damn cool Nine Inch Nails was.

I would have never eaten a brownie with drugs in it either. heh.

I wouldn’t have seen Pulp Fiction.

I always admired how brave she was in high school. She didn’t care if she got in trouble or not. I wanted to be like that. And when it came time for college, she went to a real college. She moved away. I was way too chicken to move away. After school, she came back the most creative person I know. I don’t know anyone as creative as Leslie. It seems like she’s willing to try anything: throw paint, melt things, take a picture of melting things, add a graphic element, cat sound, video, now step on it, tie some rope around it, suspend it, there! Art show!

She single handedly made the Gadsden Zombie Parade. How awesome is she?

I think I’ll always want to be as brave and creative as Les.

I love you, Les, you fucking reclusive shut-in. You paranoid ranter and raver. I fucking love you, you fucked-up bitch.

 

 

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