November 2002 (v5 i3)
Hogging All the White Meat Since 1997
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Emo Kid Doesn't Want to
Talk About It
Fashionably nerdy sophomore thinks deep, cries
by Jake Wilburn, Staff Writer

AUSTIN, TX — 19-year-old student/guitarist/songwriter/poet/Legomaniac/enigma Brad Lechter has been rendered all but speechless by a depth of emotions and the very "fucked-uppedness" of life.

"It's all so…painful. I mean, I dunno…whatever…" says Brad before restoring to the sexy silence that typifies his listless state.

Brad has read Catcher in the Rye "at least two or one and a half times" and claims that, although it is his favorite book, protagonist Holden Caulfield's problems hardly compare to his own. Caulfield endures pains of adolescence familiar to all, but to be familiar with the hardship that Brad endures is to be "raped and left for dead by Sorrow itself."

Lechter's condition is no surprise given his grave circumstances. He suffers from a rare and debilitating disease called "Attention Deficit Disorder," struggles daily to conceal sweat stains under the arms of his too-small, threadbare t-shirts, and writhes in frustration for being a mere BFF to the girl he likes.

"Brad is totally the sweetest guy," explains Alyssa Allison, "I mean, I definitely consider him to be a BFF times infinity and I really like chatting with him on IM and stuff. But he uses that frowny face thing like crazy and it gets sort of annoying. I mean give me a fuckin' break. How sad can he be? It just comes off as really dorky and pathetic sometimes."

"We cybered once," Allison elaborates. "It was weird. But don't tell him that, because I told him I liked it and then he wrote a song about it."

Accusations that Brad is a weird, pathetic dork are poorly supported, as are accusations by fellow Emo Kids that he is "only in it for the sorrow." More likely, however, is Lechter's assertion that he is a unique and complex mystery that no one could ever understand-the disturbing intricacies that complete his somber yet beautiful mosaic can only be alluded from behind his thick, black-rimmed glasses.

Long-time friend Richard Ring provides insight: "Oh mos' def, man. I mean, if you're gonna try to get into Brad's mind, you best bring your floaties because that guy is fucking deep."

Lechter's parents are just as perplexed by their son's disposition. His father comments: "Brad was my happy-go-lucky little buddy until he started listening to some awful, whiny rock music-then he became very gloomy. His mother and I started calling him 'Sad Brad.' We thought the nickname was very amusing because it rhymes! But, I don't mean to make light of the situation. We are still very concerned."

"I tried to get him to listen to my Billy Joel tapes," explains his mother. "That kind of rockin' could raise the dead!"

Brad has walked in the rain on a number of occasions. "Fuck umbrellas," he says. "My life is cold and damp, regardless." With a detached expression he added, "Also, I look really hot when my hair is all wet and disheveled and in my eyes."

Brad's Emo friends enjoy some music despite the crippling pain of life

Brad's Emo friends enjoy some music
despite the crippling pain of life

[photos: Todd Nienkerk]
Due to Brad's inherent individuality, social conformity has taken a considerable amount of blame for his depression.

When asked how it feels to be a social pariah, Brad responded: "I wouldn't call myself that. I don't, like, bite people and swim in a lake and shit. Wait, what's a pariah? Does that mean an outcast or something? Man, that's a cool-ass word. I'm gonna use that in my next poem. It's gonna be about sadness and how I'll never let another girl break my heart. Leave me alone."

Brad has recorded a number of melancholy poems in his red velvet journal, which has proved somewhat cathartic for him. An excerpt from "One-Way Ticket to Sadville" reads: "So many emotions inside of me / Why won't these emotions let me be? / Emotional sadness to the bazillionth degree."

Other self-proclaimed classics by Lechter include "My Soul Is an Ocean of Apathy" and "I Make Tears."

Looking deep into his iced frappamochacappacino latte, Brad Lechter remains pessimistic.
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