Saturday, February 9, 2008

I am not talented unless somebody else thinks I am talented. And neither are you.

I've got to find a better way to get this energy out. I'm creating creating creating. I've written more songs, scripts, and random things since I've been home than I have in years. I've got to commit this to something other than the internet. Here is more memory:

When I was little I lived in Brooklyn, NY until I was 7. I think back to all of my actions as a child and I hate kids because of it. Not all kids, mind you. Babies are cute(my niece in particular), but when kids get to be an age where they become concerned with what is cool, and what isn't, they tend to suck. It's unfair, I know, and it makes me sound like some kind weirdo elitist with a strange superiority complex picking on an easy target. I had a powerwheels ATV thing and my parents would let me ride it on the sidewalk in front of the house. I remember the cool air rushing past my cherubic childhood face as I whizzed back and forth on that thing. I felt fucking cool. I was 5 years old and I had the world in my fist, ready to squeeze. All I had to do was go a little bit faster on my powerwheel and things would be better than they ever had. Then some bigger kids rode past on their bicycles and I thought to myself, here is a real chance to impress some important people. Obviously they were important, these kids had bikes! And they were taller! How could I do this? Apparently the answer was trying to ride my little ATV backwards. What the fuck would possess me to do something like this? The need to be cool. I ended up almost falling over after running off the curb. Caught in the act of being cool by my mother, I was scolded and my sweet sweet ATV freedom was taken away just like that. Real fuckin' cool, 5 year old Brett.

Playlist: Bedhead, Paper Airplanes

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