this morning was fine,
now the wind is kicking up
and I see first snow

I say goodbye to everyone, head out the door. Jump in my car, put the new PH10 in the player (Recone just sent it to me, it's very good fun d'n'b), out into the weird portentous afternoon

Up High Point Road, whipping right to avoid people turning left onto D'Onofrio, suckers heading for Best Buy, Barnes & Noble, Westgate Mall with the big new sporting goods store. We're not buying presents for anyone this year, really, just the little cousins; a lot of people are getting donations to charitable organizations in their name. Liza and I aren't even giving each other anything, it's all good, it all went into the new kitchen cabinets.

Left onto Watts Road, left again and back on Gammon to Odana, right to the Maharaja Indian Market. They're still selling import CDs for $2.99. I spend five minutes in there, come up with the soundtrack to the 2001 "Yeh Raaste Hain Pyaar Ke" because it offers two discs for the price of one, which is already very cheap. Ring it up, the adorable little cashier must weigh all of 74 pounds. Eat some naan, girl, go heavy on the dal, the last helping of palakh paneer is for you.

holiday traffic:
backing out of parking space,
close call! wave, smile

Mom calls my cell phone as I'm driving out, she didn't put the check in the package for the kids, buy them something nice, is your kitchen done?, say hi to Jeff. Love you Mom. She's sad because we're never all together for Christmas. I turn up the Bollywood tunes, lots of weird ideas, choral singing from nowhere, some sneaky electronics. Keeps me going all the way to Whole Foods, where I stop and grab some milk and cookies for the kids: E.'s friend L. is over. (Also some beer and chips and salsa for me and Jeff.) Bomb out of there and onto overly congested University, angle through town like it's a video game, all the way to the office.

Unlock door, retrieve coffee grinder and Palm Pilot from office, go through back, grab keys to van, open big door, drive van out, run back hit button sprint out to van again. Drive to my brother Jeff's apartment, pick him up. We are very surreal on the drive back through town, talking some weird shit about deviants named Hans who sew people to chairs. Don't ask. We laugh like holy fools though, we need this in our lives.

Jeff and I look out
watching people rush around
in December mode

The actual loading is uneventful: all the old kitchen cabinets into the back of the company van, then over across town to the Re-Store, the Habitat for Humanity place that fixes these things up and sells them for cheap. Good luck, 22-year-old cabinets, I'm not too sentimental about them though, the new ones are beautiful and thick and lovely. Someone will put you in their home and you'll be fine.

We have to make two trips, which is fine by both of us because we never spend enough time together: he works nights, we're all the way across town from each other, it's hard. He's better these days, which is good. Finally sold the pickup, paying his debts, getting more sleep I think. I wonder when he'll go back to Oregon, which has been his plan the whole time. It's probably the best thing, but I'll miss him when he goes, miss him a lot. Can you miss someone that much before they're gone? Is it possible to love someone that much, when you can go for weeks without talking to him, without allowing yourself to need time and contact and interaction with him?

doesn't matter dude
just crank up the classic rock,
laugh cold blues away

At one point, we both look up at the same time and say "whoa" in the exact same way, as a green-black garbage bag hovers, kite-like, against the gun-grey sky. Nothing else to say, we're just babies man, just babies after all. Two huge babies covered by thick rhino skin. He smokes cigarettes and talks about girls he used to sleep with, I spin verbal webs about music and philosophy, but both just big babies inside, brothers who say the same thing at the same time in the same non-accent accent but don't even realize it until later, just keep staring at the sky, trying to figure it all out.

When we're done with the second load, I drive the ten minutes back to his place and drop him off: he's supposed to get his hair cut and get new shoes. We make plans to maybe hang out on Christmas -- I'm a little surprised that he's even considering coming over to hang with my in-laws, but incredibly happy nonetheless. We clasp hands, make plans, wave farewell.

Then back to the office, switch cars, crank tunes, back home for me, back to the family, back to beers and pasta and watching the Chrismukkuh episode of "The O.C." on tape and then snuggling with S. and watching his beloved Carolina Panthers play Atlanta. Life is the construct we're all busy at, all the time, without knowing it.

Later, after everyone's asleep, I write this.

drag myself to bed
while the half-moon hangs up there
freezing its ass off