You are my alligator.

I'm not sure my life will ever un-absurd itself. I'm about to tell a story that may or may not make sense to you. If you don't follow, it probably means you are a little bit more sane than I am. Congratulations.

Today I got a call from my friend Shelly, informing me that my younger (high functioning autistic) brother Gabe called her at her parent's house to inform her that he had done something "horrible." I don't know how he got her phone number.

This "horrible" thing was dressing up in "murderous clothing" (which apparently translates to ripped jeans, a wife beater and "bandages"), knocking on  our  neighbor's door and threatening to poison her with Paul Newman's salad dressing. 

This was all within 5 minutes of his return from boarding school in PA. My parent's were still unloading suitcases from the car. Because of this, Gabe is "grounded," which basically means my dad is grounded too, since he has to watch him 24/7.  Sometimes I feel bad that I'm not around to help out more.  That I have been doing my own thing for the past 5 years, 22 years if vacancy of the mind is accounted for.  

But seriously, life being so ridiculous that it's funny...loses its humor after a lifetime. Except maybe for the Newman's Own. I wonder if it was sesame ginger. That stuff rocks. 

The self penned hip hop commentary Gabe has been writing at school (and reading to me over the phone), however, deserves a monthly column in Spin. Right up next to Klosterman.

I'm going on a press tour of the new art installation exhibit on Governor's Island tomorrow, so early in the morning that I am popping some Tylonol PM by midnight tonight. Tomorrow night is a surprise Jeremiah has in store for me, then Suh's art opening and Tess' birthday party. I have 18 dollars to my name and can't afford to be this social. But there is always Colt 45.

A side note:

At Northside, I interviewed this guy Aaron, visiting from Eugene. I ran into him on the street yesterday and invited him to come see my friend Deb go-go at The Skinny. He showed me his stegosaurus tattoo, which starts on his upper back with just the stego-skeleton (death) and will eventually morph into his entire life cycle (thus covering his entire back). It wins the cake as the least lame conceptual tattoo I have ever seen.