Trouble Ticket

My internet is boned. I've been trying to get it sorted out all day, in between mooching free wireless from the local café and dropping off my laundry at the ninjitsu folding palace up the block, I’ve been on the phone. i've been on the phone with India. I've been on the phone with robots. I've been on the phone with hold music. Getting to the bottom of my fifteen digit trouble ticket. punching my index finger into the phone, the same sequence of numbers, every single time. All fucking day. I'm desperate for my internet. I need my world wide web. I'm beginning to think I might be addicted.

The nba playoffs are on television. New Jersey at Toronto. Vince carter is getting booed every time he touches the ball. I guess when he split from Toronto it was a bad breakup. I don’t watch the nba much anymore, so I don’t keep up with the gossip, but the announcers are doing nothing less than making an opera of the situation. i don’t really care either way, though I guess I hold a little bit of an allegiance for the nets, being that a lot of my family are in new jersey. Still, I think I want Toronto to win. I mean, why not?

(I have no agenda tonight, and it feels good. I have my laptop and warm techno and a fresh new castle beer. I have the page and the word. I have my phone bill paid. My satellite tv burns out into the living room and the windows are open because its warm outside. The shakes and shivers and the worries of the day are being dragged away in the sound of traffic. Lost in the evening tide. A window of simplicity has been drawn and a remarkable sigh of relief has come over me.)

I spoke to my brother today. The black one. Sometimes he just shatters me. he wants to come out this summer, to fill new york with his thunderous presence. He wants to see how bright the night can shine. And I want him to come, I truly do. But to be honest, I'm a little afraid. What me and him can become is not entirely in sync with this city. There isn’t as much room for error here. Its not the right pace; our drawl is too different. Or maybe it is that the city is perfect for our behavior, and I fear the fire will be too fueled. That we will become trapped in it, and then lost. And then what?

But he has to come. I know he does. And I hope he will. it’s a wonder he hasn’t yet. Maybe he hasn’t because he is afraid as well? maybe he thinks our slow, drunken bones cant fight with the stories we live on anymore. The stories that created our lives, our relationship. The girls and the music and the sick feeling in your stomach when the sun came up. The nights that turned to mornings and then afternoon and then night again. The infomercials on television beaming a bright reflection off the mirror. the serpentine conversations that end in screaming and laughter. Maybe he thinks that we are too weak now, too settled. That we don’t have the enthusiasm or patience, to bear such a blind, careless adventure. Maybe the time just isn’t right. Maybe hes just too busy. Maybe he doesn’t think about coming at all.

Who knows really? It is what is it. ill be out there sometime this summer. Another coast of ghost to haunt me. With clean underwear and an open mind, I will have a real good time.

UPDATE: yay! My internet is back up. these ramblings are now a post from the past!