NAMES

New York, New York

My younger brother Scott lived and worked in Wilkes-Barre but, along with his new girlfriend Sarah, was spending a few nights at his friend's apartment in Chinatown, right on the corner of Canal and Mulberry.

When I got there they were playing a board game and listening to music, "some hardcore band from Tokyo with an old jazz drummer from Mississippi, two Japanese girl singers, and, like, this 30-some-year-old former Navy Seal from Brooklyn going back and forth between bass and guitar. Pretty badass." Scott said.

He asked if I wanted to order some pizza or go grab a 6-pack or something, and I told him no thanks. It's late and I had too much to drink last night anyway. I'll probably fall asleep pretty soon.

He said, "I'm not really drinking anymore. I was getting out of hand with it."

I know what you mean, I said.

Scott was 2 years younger than me. We were inseparable as kids, as close as you could get, but had grown apart through the years. Nothing bad had happened between us, but he went his way and I went mine. The things that brought us together as children no longer existed, and our differences seemed greater than ever. I'd always wanted us to remain close, like we had been, but that just wasn't going to happen. I think over time we both tried, in our own ways, to rekindle what was lost, only to realize that it was gone for good. I still liked seeing him, catching up, reminiscing, making sure he was OK, and though I'm closer now than ever to accepting our relationship for what it is, somewhere deep down I'm holding onto a glimmer of hope that our past life could in some way become our future. As much as I've accepted that things will never be the same, that Scott and I will never be more than we are, part of me will always wish we were.

I sat on the couch reading articles on my phone while they played video games.

I woke up a few hours later and they were still there, sitting on the floor in the same spot, playing. I said could they keep it down, turned over, and covered my head with a pillow. When I got up in the morning they were still in bed. I had a glass of water, did as many push ups as I could for a minute, then 45 seconds, 30 seconds, 15 seconds, and 10 seconds with 30 second breaks in between, and then went out for a run. It was about 10 after 7. At around 2 miles, I saw Leonardo DiCaprio sitting on a park bench, but ran right by. What am I going to say? I thought. Hey man, I'm not big into movies, but I've seen a bunch of yours and liked them. I quit my job and I'm playing at The Bowery tonight, come check it out. What the hell are you doing sitting there at 7 in the morning? I thought about that for about ½ mile or so, what was he doing there? It wasn't a bus stop or anything. Did he live nearby? Was he waiting for someone? Was he filming a movie? Maybe I missed the crew. That'd be cool if you were in the movie, I thought. Run by later if you want, maybe he'll still be there, you can see what's going on. I crossed over Houston at Allen St. and headed west. Left on Forsyth down to Canal then right and back up alongside the park on Chrystie. At Grand about a thousand rats surrounded a garbage can overflowing with fish parts.

Holy shit, I said. Fucking gross. Fuck, that stinks.

A little, old guy wearing a blue plastic raincoat hopped off his bike, opened his coat, threw what appeared to be 4 geoducks onto the wall of rats, and began feverishly snapping pictures, and I sprinted across the street to get the hell away.

What the fuck? I said, laughing. That was goddamn crazy. This place is wild. You see it all.

I crossed over and turned left on Delancey, and in the middle of the block I stopped in front of The Bowery. I hadn't planned my run, wasn't even sure where the place was, but thought it was really cool, kind of special how I ended up there anyway. I suppose it wasn't very unlikely, it was in the neighborhood, but it still felt meaningful to me. A small pink flyer on the window read: The Luminators with special guests NAMES. These people have no idea who I am, I thought. Special guests? It's just me. There are no guests. It's guest. Who the hell are The Luminators? I wasn't as locked-in to all the new bands as I was when I was a kid, but I followed current music pretty closely and had at least heard of most popular bands, even in genres I wasn't particularly fond of, so to not have heard of The Luminators was surprising. Then I remembered I was supposed to be opening for Drummer, the side project of the drummer from the Black Keys where every member of the band was a drummer in another band. I took off my armband, removed my phone, and Googled them. Other than a Myspace account that hadn't been updated in almost 12 years, there was no mention of The Luminators. Whatever, I thought. The show is sold out, and if not, fuck it, just play. It's New York City, you've never played here before, Maria will be here, it's your third show, this shit happens all the time on tour, I'm sure, I figured, doesn't matter who you're playing with, it'll still be fun and a chance to get your stuff out there, and you never know who might be in the crowd. Just because they didn't have a strong web presence doesn't mean The Luminators weren't legit. They're probably really big and you have no clue, I thought. Doesn't matter. This is still awesome.