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2003-08-10 || 6:11 p.m. || sunday call from my brother. || my soul brother calls expecting an answer to the question he posed last week about my moving. this is how the soul brother operates: collecting mere speculation and idea, rumor and fragments, and assigning significance and to do lists to be filled until completion. sounding disappointed when i laugh and hide ostrich-like from action and standing by My Word. i have found with him My Word has no chance. my soul brother is watching annie hall and i am watching annie hall and we decide that is one of the reasons we are soul siblings and he forgives me, but not before making me feel like a bad sister, like i have let him down from two states away. how it was: his room filled with organs and fifteen different shades of beige. soda pop and vodka and the oddest combinations of food prepared as a quesadilla. stroking his hair and offering to hem the perpetual holes in his pants and promising i can keep up; we'll make it big because after all the beats were just a group of friends with ill-fitting pants too; we'll never get this feeling of defeat and we'll never take smoking from his window sill for granted. guestbook || notes || archives || profile || photos || d-land |