i had a whole post planned describing the non-events that went down during my Minneapolis trip. the remarkably pale underground hip hop show at First Avenue, which is where Prince writhed on the floor and Morris did The Bird in the classic movie Purple Rain. the curiously empty sky above JFK airport, which i stared into for 3 hours from a shady patch of grass under a highway exit, waiting for the next flight that would take me as i had missed the first in classic Cali fashion. the bad art in terminal 4 that me and shakeyface wouldnt forgive and how we laughed until we choked and then had a few beers on the companies tab. the midnight drink curfew. the boredom. the boredom.
but that post got over shadowed by the shit and the fan and the terrific collision between the two. enter: the Drama Llama.
Lets start at the beginning, i am in exciting Minneapolis fighting of the urge of suicide as my record industry cohorts describe to a large audience just why sales are tanking, my girlfriend is in New Hampshire or somewhere exploring her X-treme side by climbing the tallest mountain in the Northeast, and my brother is in Brooklyn, home alone.
the story starts in Brooklyn, where my brother wakes up saturday morning, hung over, with a bladder about to burst. he stumbles to the bathroom and, to his surprise, finds a fucking SQUIRREL freaking out in the kitchen. apparently, when seen up close, squirrels lose all their disney like cuddly cuteness and gain quite a bit of viciousness and disease. so of course my brother starts freaking out along with the squarely and the two of them have a mid morning monster mash until eventually the squarely bounces. so will takes a piss, scratches his nuts, and goes back to bed shaken, but too hungover to worry about it so early.
well luckily the squarely had such a ball in my kitchen the first time, he decided to come back for just one last dance. so when Will wakes up there is squirrelly squirrel doing the running man on the fridge, while eating some walnuts it found in one of our higher shelves. when Will told me this little bit of information the first thing i asked was why the window was left open from the first visit from our little buddy. he had no answer, he just hadnt thought of it. i called him an idiot and, as i am one to do, forgot about the matter.
fast foward to last night, two days after the squirrel fiasco. im chilling with my beer, glad to be home, even though the place was a little messy as he hadnt cleaned up while we were gone. its about 11pm when L-aqua comes home happy to finally be in a place of modern luxuries [you know, box spring, hand soap, tivo...]. right as she gets home Will decides to brag about his rodent adventures not leaving out the fact that he didnt close the window the first time nor that he never cleaned up the walnuts our wee tree climbing homie had left scattered about the kitchen floor.
wait, you didnt clean up the walnuts? you left them on the floor for two fucking days?
yep. my brother is an idiot. a prick. a slightly sociopathic asswipe. i see his flaws as flaws we all have. but ive known him so long i dont even notice it anymore. she, on the other hand, sees this like an explosion before her eyes. i try to ease the situation by taking out the trash but by the time i get back upstairs its already been done. the lid has been blown. she comes up to me:
-i want that asshole out of my house right now. right fucking now. she said it like there was nothing before and nothing to be after, like the moment was absolutely final.
he said some wrong things. but she baited him into saying them a little. i knew the score before they even told me. it was inevitable this moment. this wave had been breaking for too long, it was going to crash eventually, at least that much was known.
i try to tell him how he has fucked up. how it sout of my hands at this point. he cant disrespect her in her house, i cant really allow that, thats just out of order. she interrupts us while we are talking, blind with fury, demanding he leave that instant. i tell her we are talking about it, to give me a moment. she points fingers and calls for his head. i try to calm her down but cant. i try and try but i cant and i erupt in rage at her.
GIVE US A FUCKING SECOND. IM KICKING MY FUCKING BROTHER OUT!! IM FUCKING KICKING MY BROTHER OUT! GIVE ME A MOMENT TO HAVE A FUCKING CONVERSATION. JUST A FUCKING SECOND!!! IM FUCKING KICKING HIM OUT FOR YOU!! IM KICKING MY BROTHER OUT FOR YOU!!! GIVE US A FUCKING MINUTE JUST ONE FUCKING MINUTE!!!!
it should have been more controlled. i shouldnt have screamed like that. it didnt help the matter. i can be intimidating when im angry. she looked frightened. terrified of me. not like i would ever lay a hand on her, but her eyes said she feared me like never before. i should have been more patient. i should have thought it through. it broke my heart to do it. but i had to tell him to go. he left last night, i dont know where he stayed. then he called me today to let me know he was taking the next flight home. me and her havent talked since.
its humiliating for everybody. i stupid fucking tragedy for all parties involved. he could have been cool. she could have been chill. i could gave been more something or other. fucking hell. i cant even write right. i cant even figure out how this makes me feel.
hey bro, thanks for everything. ass.