I came downstairs this morning to find my brother putting raw meat and eggs and a banana into a blender. First, I found him trying to get a piece of shell out of a tall glass with two eggs in it, and failing; holding up the glass and tipping it and making his fingers as long as possible, what are you doing! I asked.
you weren’t supposed to be up right now.
but what are you doing, you look like a bear looking for honey, oh my gosh, you’re pooh bear!
there’s a shell in my eggs!
are you going to eat those? like that?
you weren’t supposed to be up right now!
And so on. I managed to keep myself from gagging as I watched him slide pieces of raw meat into the blender, and then milk and a banana as if he were just blending a regular smoothie. Meat is not the best source of protein for you! I said, but I don’t really know anything about food, except for the difference between things that are disgusting and things that are edible. His death blend of animal products didn’t seem edible to me. Bruce Lee ate it, he said, and we all know how well he turned out. I don’t think this is okay, but when my brother gets it in his mind that something is going to make him manly and strong, he does it. He’s dug up what he can find of my father’s old running clothes and still wears them. He thinks that being stubborn and refusing to accept change makes him a pillar of tradition. It’s kind of exhausting . For instance, when my mom is trying to make changes to the house and he gets upset that she’s finally replaced the gold shag carpeting with a light beige, modern version.
This may sound petty, but it’s these kinds of things that distract me a little. I don’t have a job here, I wander around all day, trying not to talk about it. In the end it’s all I can talk about. The other day mare sent me a text informing me that brynn had found out about me and john, that she was upset, etc etc. I fretted about it for an hour, processed it, and then promptly forgot it had happened. I feel bad because I’ve obstructed the girl scout’s code of honor or something, but honestly feeling bad because you know you should feel bad (and don’t) is silly. I saw bean yesterday and her baby michael. I was fine the whole time until she hugged me goodbye and I couldn’t stop crying. Saturday I’m going to see nooka in brooklyn and go to a music festival, and drink kombucha with andy, and I’m going to pretend I am still far away, that this is still okay. That the inevitable isn’t happening.
