[panicBoy]

Look.

Keith is absolutely right to feel the way he feels, but I don't need an armchair diagnosis of some nebulous spectral disorder to "give [me] an out." I did what I did, and can no more change his instincts or "paranoia" (an unfair description I think - sorry, Marina) than I can change how this all went down in the first place. If he needs to think of me as mentally challenged to get beyond this, then I'd just as soon say "No thanks, it's been fun" and move on.

Most of our friendships develop organically and gradually, through casual interaction. Keith has many of that type, sure, but he also has a substantial number of friends acquired through the show. I think Keith is in a weird position where he has to assess everyone a bit differently than most of us... figure out who are the real friends and who are the sycophants, the leeches or the otherwise nefarious. We all do this to some extent, but I feel Keith and Chemda's fame cranks up the stakes. I mean, fer chrissakes, I met Keith at show 385 in Boston and practically thrust myself into his orbit; who the fuck am I?

No, we don't hang out on a regular basis, but I like to visit New York City as often as I can, and I'll always set aside some time for Keith and Chemda. They are genuinely good people; fun, kind, generous and all that ass-licking shit. They quite literally thrive on amazing conversation, and that does not end just because the microphones are off. In February 2008, turning 34, with my marriage beginning to quickly disintegrate, I took a break from one of the lowest points of my life and visited Keith and Chemda. They took me out for my birthday and gave me a weekend that I will always hold dear in my heart. They came out to NH to see me sing the following year, and the year after that we went camping. That's why this is bumming me out so much.

While the benefit of the doubt would be great, nothing will ever remove the stain of what happened, that little twinge of doubt. I guess I'm suspect now, and I don't really know how to proceed from this point forward. No, I wasn't nosing around for beaver shots. No, I don't have designs on Keith's old lady. No, I didn't throw my toothbrush in with the items so sensual I can't even mention them in this post. But people will believe what they will and I can't change that either.

I'm sure it's made great radio. Keith wouldn't have made it such a large part of these episodes if he didn't think the audience at large would get some prurient pleasure from the intrigue of it all. For that, I'm glad I could be of service. I just hope I can get back to palling around from time to time once the mics are off.