Post #1

Here's a story I wrote about my Favourite Brother, Albert.

When I was sixteen (and he was 21) we went to see a movie called RumbleFish. It was playing at the old Santa Maria Theater w/the red velvet curtains & the narrow stage jutting out the bottom of the screen (where back in the day they used to perform vaudeville shows between the talking pictures). The movie Albert and I went to see that day starred Matt Dillon and Diane Lane in gorgeous Black & White, except certain things were deep red, like Diane Lane's lips or the undulating beta fish. We had gotten loaded on the way there....schmoked a doobie in his classic, stock 1968 White Mustang. When we arrived, the lush carpeted lobby was gold countered, a trippy & buttery smorgasbord. Albert bought his little sister (me!) candy and popcorn but most importantly, he bought me a fountain soda: I had cotton mouth pretty bad. It seemed like the theater was extra dark...or we were extra stoned and that soda felt and tasted Sooooo good. It was a coke. I felt it fizz and bubble on my tongue. I whispered to him a lot in the movies. And he whispered back. That day we got shushed when I asked him if his soda bubbled..."My what?"

"did your soda bubble?"

"... what?

"SSsshhh!"

"What's a soda bubble?!?"

huh. He took a gulp and the soda fizzed so loud that we busted out
laughing, like our lives depended on it. We were always laughing like that. When we got back to the house in Nipomo, I made him a salami sandwich. Toasted w/sharp cheddar cheese, just a little hint of mustard with the mayonnaise. When he finished his, I offered him the other half of mine. Prolonging our visit as best as i could because I really didn't want him to leave. We said our goodbyes on the porch . I made him promise to call me, come and get me, take me somewhere, Soon. He waved as he reversed then waved again before he put it in drive and drove away. That was the last time I ever saw him.

it was a single car accident two days after we went to the movies. his mustang was demolished. He was coming from a friend's house in the early morning hours when they think, because no drugs or alcohol were involved, that he fell asleep. he crashed into a tree on his way home to Orcutt, 15 minutes south of Nipomo. The police officers knocked on our door at 7 or 8am to tell my mom. I was wearing a pink flannel nightgown that she grabbed ahold of and wouldn't let go. She went into hysterics then collapsed so i called her doctor and told him that my brother had been killed and that i needed him to perscribe her some strong sedatives. Apparently I called my sister and told her to get on a plane. That Albert was dead. She said later that I just said those two things and hung up. what a fucked up phone call that musta been.

It wouldn't have been so horrifically devestating but

Albert and I were inseparable ever since I could remember. When we were little, he used to make up songs about how beautiful he thought I was and sing them in talent shows we had on the side of the house. He was into Theatre in High School, as was I. He was a Gemini as am I. We both Loved the Thrift Store and movies. He was cool. Very funny. A smart dresser with a distinctive sense of style. He was the love of my life. And he was Gone. What a fucking bummer.

Only the Good Die Young, for real. He comes to me in my dreams. One dream I remember vividly was shortly after he died: We were in an airport, laughing our asses off! We were literally (in the dream, anyway) rolling on the floor, Laughing.

I miss him more than words can convey.

Chankla aloft. here we are @ Lopez Lake, with our older brother Nat. I love this picture because it shows how close we were. I put it where I can see it, everyday.

The End