Out of car parts, a raven made a nest inside my skin

[sovay]

My brother's coming over tonight. Despite the fact that he lives in West Hartford, i.e., forty-five minutes away, our combined schedules ensure that we don't see each other as often as we might like. He's an engineer. He's on an eternal quest to make his 1991 Pontiac Bonneville into a sexy and barely street-legal piece of machinery, rather than an fender-dented steel boat with a stuffed Cthulhu in a Hawaiian shirt perched up behind its rear windshield. He had a ponytail and a mustache from mid-high school up until this summer, when he did away with both in the same week and promptly looked like the less consumptive and more romantic kind of Romantic poet. He also looks more like our grandmother than anyone else in the family, and he has her talent for visual art: he does spray-paintings of women who look like proto-Kandinskys or God knows what, black-eyed with blue pupils, intersected with arcs of red and yellow hazes as though they're only passing through this spectrum's field of vision. He wears a lot of black. We listen to some of the same music. I'm very fond of him.

Comments

[sovay]

Your brother turned out to be an engineer?

Yep. And so far as I can tell, he's a rather good one.

Did he get married to that girl?

No, for reasons that I am probably not permitted to go into (on account of it not being my engagement that broke off), but he's otherwise doing all right.

[nineweaving.livejournal.com]

Broken off? Oh dear. I'm sorry.

Nine

[kraada.livejournal.com]

Ah, now the radical hair change makes much more sense.

[sovay]

Look: this is my brother's life and there's a limit to how much I can talk about what's personal to him. But he cut his hair months before the engagement ended. The two are not related.

[kraada.livejournal.com]

Fair enough. But I mean, since I can count three other guys who had (varying degrees of) radical hair changes on or around times significant relationships ended, you have to admit it wasn't a ridiculous stretch.