Tuesday, February 26, 2013

Happy Birthday to My Brother, Dusty Bottoms

Today is Dusty's 25th birthday.  According to Facebook, he's in Ohio, and though one's first reaction to that proper noun might be, "What the fuck is in Ohio?," I can tell you: well, my brother apparently, and all four seasons.  I only mention where he is at this moment, because sometimes I don't know the answer to that question.  I tell people he's off in the world being Jack Kerouac, and I'm pretty sure I'm not just being facetious.  He's a poet, this kid, with all the inconsistencies and hauntings of a poet, but also all the verve and enigma of one.  My silly brother, who pulls a face every time a camera is pointed at him--or at least that used to be the case.  I miss him, and I hope he's well.  In my 25th year, I got married.  I don't know what's in the cards for Dusty, but I'm sure it's something big.  A quarter of a century, this guy.  Happy birthday.

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