Que Sera Sera

Most people be thinking all brothers same.

Last Saturday my parents got me back for flying into town and surprising them last month. I was supposed to meet Ryan at the tavern next door, and I came in flustered and apologizing because I’d fallen asleep and was an hour late, and then someone pulled out my chair for me and it was my brother.

I love surprises more than anything, and it’s so rare that they actually work on me, that I haven’t figured it out beforehand and or dragged the information out of someone, so this was a real treat. We’ve spent the past week cramming in as much fun as possible, playing skeeball at Coney Island and eating Grimaldi’s pizza on the pier underneath the Brooklyn Bridge and going to the Natural History Museum and hearing David Sedaris read from his new book at Barnes & Noble and drinking with my friends, and, one night, catching a midnight showing of The Day After Tomorrow in a packed Times Square theater where everyone yelled back at the screen (Anytime Jake Gyllenhaal did anything, the guy next to me would scoff, “Tss! White boy think he gon’ be a hero.”), and I spent the whole time pointing out the building where I work across the street from the New York Public Library as it got wiped out by water. My brother was not nearly as excited about this as I was.

Tonight we are going to see the Mets play the Marlins, and then I’m going to make my parents extend his ticket so he can stay to see Beulah and Bling Kong this weekend, and then when he finally leaves I’ll immediately pass out and sleep like Sigourney Weaver in Ghostbusters. We’ve had the best time, though, and I’m proud to announce that my brother has grown into a very affable, charming, easygoing young man who has a favorite Clash song and can drink me under the table.

In other news, Erin has just informed me that a lady who reads her site just walked into the library and GAVE HER A DIGITAL CAMERA. Like, to KEEP. I have never been so jealous in my life. Okay, that’s not completely true, but I am coveting so fiercely I could ignite wood. What gives, internet? Do you want me to suicide all over the stage first?

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