I'm having an experience right now. Like I'm in the process of it right now. It has begun yet hasn't concluded. It's about 2 in the morning. I just got done watching Royal Tenenbaums with my brother and dad. I'm in my basement, with my laptop, listening to Bon Iver and playing guitar along with it. My brother comes out down the stairs to do laundry. He does his thing then comes back to the room I'm in and just listens with me. Pretty much silent. I have put the guitar down by this point. I, being tactless, ask him in a very controlled uncomfortable voice say "uhh... what's up?" and he says "nothing" and heads back up stairs. I didn't think much of it. He comes back after several minutes wearing a plain black shirt and asks me what he thinks of it, specifically if people will "projectile vomit like in the exorcist." Now first some back story. This is my younger brother. I only have one. He's 16, a freshman in high school, has had way more girlfriends than I, and we have seldom gotten along. Pretty much only when we're participating in something involving family we don't like or don't know or when the activity involves no talking like watching a movie. He used to stab me with the fact that I went to a community college for a year and how he's stronger than me. A sensible me would shirk it off but shit he knew how to get my blood burning. Back to the black shirt. I say, trying to keep up my anti-fashion veneer/make the other person feel shitty about themselves for wondering if something makes them look ok kind-of-way, "I don't know, it's a black shirt." He responds with "I know but I'm saying how does it make me look. I mean, I don't want people to see it and projectile v...etc." It's at this point I'm starting to realize we're in a different realm than either of us have ever been in with each other. He doesn't care how he looks in clothes. I probably visibly change my attitude at this point. I pretend to scrutinize the outlines of the shirt. I say "Yeah, no I don't think anyone's going to be hurling chunks at you." He says thanks and we exchange awkward, unintelligent banter about vomiting as he's ascending the stairs and I stay in place. I sit down here mulling it over for a while. He asks me about how his shirt looks? What was with that? did that movie start making him think about family or was he just tired of us fighting? He comes back down a third time for his laundry. As he's bringing it up, he stops to listen to the music again. I ask him what he thought of the movie and he said it was pretty good. He says something about the music. I explain to him the whole cabin in northern wisconsin thing and he attentively listens. This made me fumble my words a bit because I try and explain music things to him constantly and he usually condescendingly rejects my attempts. halfway through the explanation, I ask him if I already told him this. He says "no." I am 99% sure that I have. This leads me to believe something was going through his mind that made him willing to hear it again. I finish. He continues to stand. I continue to check my webcomics while reading interviews of people i find interesting. He goes from his current standing position by the amplifier to my right, to the blue chair on my left and lays in it Great Mouse Detective style:
He just sits there, looking up at the ceiling. Silent. I'm just kind of amazed the whole time as this is happening. We sit through a little over half an hour of For Emma, Forever Ago (from "Wolves" to "For Emma"). About half way through that, I decide to let him know I know what's going on and stop reading. I slide backwards so that my back is up against the couch on the other side of the room. I sit there and stare at the space inbetween the amp and the fridge. We sit silently for another 15 minutes after that just listening to the music. We didn't quite make it to flume; I adjusted my seating position which made some rustling noises and he got up and left. His eyes were wide open the whole time. I looked every so often. To cement the idea that I knew what was going on but wasn't orchestrating anything said "that was cool. we should do that again sometime." He agreed and said "yeah, that was good thinking music. I'm going to have to get that." He picks up his laundry and heads upstairs. Before his head went past the wall, he called "hey, are we still on for [Sherlock Holmes] tomorrow?" and I said "oh yeah, I forgot about that. yeah, definitely." These quotes are as verbatim as I can remember. The incident ended around the time I started looking for that picture of Basil playing the violin on his couch on google (Victoria: if you still need any help cajoling Kris into getting that as a tattoo, I'm way in).
I don't know about this whole thing. Maybe it was completely nothing. Maybe I'm reading more into that there is. But maybe not. Maybe we're starting to grow up. I see my cousins Gabe and Matt, who are brothers, that went to burning man together. I can't imagine that just yet but at the same time, I can totally see what's been hindering us. Whenever we start having a good time together or are about to verbalize it in some way, it's very clear that we throw in something like an insult, clearly in jest, but at the same time an attempt to keep distance. I think it'd be really cool if we started treating each other as humans instead of whatever you'd call our current/potentially previous relationship. Sugar headache; I need to sleep. I'll finish this in the morning. Good night. I hope your relationships are being held back by idiocy like ours.