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return to these moments, find in them space that leaves you aching. you should have known.
"it's the convienence that kills you," he said, nodding sagely. he leaned back, eyeing me and rubbing the exposed pouch of his stomach.
he's always been able to disarm me with a sentence; not always because he is right, but because he is always righteous. pretty impressive when you're covered in tattoos and coughing up black from the smelter. makes rules and breaks them nearly simultaneously, but something about him convinces you of steadfast will.
he was talking about the contents of his refrigerator: chocolate milk, vodka, an economy pack of hot dogs, baked beans. that unfortunate potbelly.
convienence is the watchword, if you think about it. mcdonald's is far easier than the preparation and consequences of a well-balanced, home cooked meal. but i've come to discover that comfort zones are inherently dangerous. wallowing in sadness makes you more sad, breeds self loathing, and eventually wears so thin you couldn't even wear it on the red carpet. i've been waiting for something (or someone, really) to come along and add a little excitement to this life, but i ought to be able to do that on my own.
despite that, i've come to terms with some of the things i'll never do or be - it's been difficult, especially since i have to see them so close and in 3D. but shaking off 23 years of training in watchfulness and caution is no easy task. i'd even venture so far as impossible.
i will always be afraid of new situations. i might delight, but there is never a foreign moment without a little tweak deep behind my sternum.
his ideas about the dangers of convienence were merely a way to pass the time. he doesn't worry, he's so solely existent that sometimes it hurts to look at him. if you'd met him, you'd know what i mean - there's too much focus, too much concentration, no blurred edges. he has something to say about everything, swaggers into any situation unprepared and full of an inordinate amount of chutzpah. its really very buddhist, the way he lives his life - consequence has never entered the equation, only action permeates his view of the world.
how my parents spawned two such different creatures, i'll never know. to guess would be to delve into a family history so long, deep and painful that i'd emerge covered in bruises and drying blood, with no answers and wrung hands. in common we have vanity and a pesky tobacco addiction, but it comes to a screeching halt as soon as you step out the back door of our shared childhood home.
he was talking about drinking and driving, women spending the night, being non-union in an industrial world.
i had more sincere considerations for the direction of our conversation, but the lazy sunday afternoon had no patience for my existential dilemma.
Labels: Charmed I'm sure
posted by lindsay at 20:09 ::
1 Comments:
My brother just called me - him that reflects me in such a way that people watch us closely when they see us together, attempting to spot the mirror.
He called from a high-limit room in Vegas for the sole apparent purpose of saying "I'm so drunk" approximately fourteen times, and to attempt to describe the woman serving him drinks.
An attempt to ask him a responsible, cautious question got me the phrase "Fuck you" approximately seventeen times, each time with a different inflection, but no further information.
Tomorrow, I'll make a follow-up call, doubtless to learn that he's somehow money ahead from all that.
At the end, we said to each other "I love you," which as men we cannot do without the drunkenness, so in the end it turned out good despite my caution.
Despite the mirror effect, we are unspeakably different.
And he is unmistakably my brother nonetheless.
By 
Frank Charlemagne, at
11:40 PM