You gotta love hindsight. It is with the perfect vision of hindsight that I look back on my meeting with Allan. In high school, I was meekly reluctant to admit my friendship to the briefcase wielding guy that many considered “the least cool guy in the school”. But now I realize that I had actually befriended the one guy not afraid to announce his nerdhood  from the highest mountain, not afraid to be the only goth at a redneck high school, and not afraid to enthusiastically embrace a bunch of fellow geeks who saw through the whole high school “game”. Jesus once said “The meek will inherit the Earth”, but I think he was misquoted.

Without further ado, here's Allan's tale:

Ah…middle school.
That's where they banned bookbags, so I carried a briefcase. I also  
had rather gelled-up 80's hair.
For whatever reason, something made me take a class called “Art and  
Occupational Exploration.” I'm not really sure why, but it changed my  
life forever. That wasn't because I learned in “Occupational  
Exploration” that I was best suited to a life of bowling-pin setter-
machine repair person or lighting designer, but rather because I met  
these two equally quirky individuals.

Mike and I immediately clicked, I'm not sure why. But we would  
prattle on and on and on and on about Doctor Who. Hell, I would call  
Mike after watching Doctor Who to discuss what we just watched. And  
Jesse, well, he and I read a lot of the same esoteric books like  
Godel. Escher. Bach – which, in the seventh grade, we actually were  
able to make some sense of. So, the trio of us in this miserable  
class made merriment and pretty much annoyed the hell out of everyone  
else. The art teacher was less understanding, and usually exiled me  
to a desk far far away, in the corner of the class. Sadness.

Then there was this girl. Well, secretly, we all probably liked her,  
because she was nerdy and hot. Really really hot. I took it upon  
myself to write homicidal love poetry about her, comparing her to  
Caspar Weinberger and something about severe irritable bowel  
syndrome. Anyhoo, a pesky young man took a shine to my prose, and  
proceeded to give it to her. Gah. Enter Reuben.

The following year, we had a rather unfortunate gym class together,  
whereupon our method of physical activity was to throw rocks at each  
other. Reuben broke my fabulous calculator watch, I broke his  
glasses, and thus began our friendship. Somewhere along the way we  
met Mark, which, I think I met him whilst lying in a puddle of mud in  
my gym outfit. He seemed rather curious as to why I was lying in a  
puddle of mud, and quite honestly in retrospect, I did too.

My high school years would have greatly sucked were it not for these  
people. Hell, I was the only goth kid at hick high, and these guys  
were my salvation. Not to mention, they made an otherwise boring gym  
class rather amusing. Well, apart from me lying in the mud. Mike  
started a band, Reuben played the viola, Jesse pressed record…and I  
needed an axe. I picked up the bass guitar, an instrument which to  
this day I don't play terribly well…but well enough. Throughout  
varied dramatical performances, inhaling green Tic-Tacs as a ritual,  
and other varied sundry things, friendships were forged. Worlds would  
end. Nations would fall. Or something.

Then came graduation. And this odd, peculiar invitation to accompany  
these people to the beach. How could I say no? Worlds would end.  
Nations would fall. Oh, wait, been there, done that. So, obviously  
the next thing to do was to form a band. A band of mythical  
proportions. A band that has NEVER released a single album, but  
rather exists in the passing of mix tapes and mp3s spread all over  
the world.

And here we are.