He's nineteen today. Which means . . . little. But hey, at least he's not just eighteen, you know? He's above and beyond and whatnot.
So he and I fought alla time when we were kids. I knew I loved him because I had to love him because he was my brother, but besides that, ick. But then at some point -- it really snuck up on me -- we became friendly, throughout the time I was in high school. And then just when we were getting to the point where we could actually hang out as maybe almost equals, I had to go and leave for college.
So I wish we saw each other more. And I think it's really, really cool that he's in art school -- I'm a sucker for artists. Artists and math majors, go figure. And even when I don't like the same things as him, like music or movies or what have you, I always have respect for the stuff he does like. Like, back when he was in high school, he listened to a WHOLE lot of ska music. I'm not a ska fan, but I think it's an all right genre to like. I mean, it's not like it's Linkin Park or some shit (no offense, Slick).
And what's really awesome is when he adopts stuff that I've been following for years, which he formerly looked upon with derision. Oh the comments and the rolling of eyes I would get for Soul Coughing: "Oh, that's a great song, Kerr. Five, 10, 15, 20, 25, 30, 35, 40 Yeah, that's great." And now? He owns all three albums, baby. And don't even get me STARTED about They Might Be Giants.
So . . . yeah, that's Fatty. Megaman-lovin', shark-carvin', Fight Club-watchin', hockey goaliein' Fatboy. Someday he may even be as cool as I am.