All Fucked Up
2002-04-27 07:21:27 (UTC)

The Young Man and The Sea

The only two books that Derekk has ever read, according to
my own insignificant knowledge, were Backfire and The Old
Man And The Sea. I can still freshly recall him curling up
against the fireplace that Christmas Eve when he was
twenty, viraciously reading Hemingway's masterpiece, a gift
that he had opened early, unbeknownst to the giver. His
eyes glowed fiercely w/the abounding fire. "Derekk, do you
want a cookie?" I asked, offering Jeff's newly baked goods
that she had specifically told me were for our
grandparents. What the fuck did I care? Derekk was my only
brother, a person to look up to w/moonlit eyes....

"Not now, dude" he brashly answered, not even glancing up
from the page, perhaps afraid that he'd miss a chance at
savoring Hemingway's every word. Never had I seen someone
so absorbed in thought. That night, as he trailed through
the hall to his bedroom, he boldly proclaimed, "I am the
young man, my consciousness, the sea!", waking the
household up from nestled slumbers. And off he trailed,
muttering, "Or am I merely the young man of the sea?..."

The next morning while we opened our gifts, Derekk's
deameanor was indifferent, slightly gazing in self-
absorbance, a trait quite unusual for such an outspoken
boy. "Derekk," dad snapped, "There's an unusually-shaped
gift for you back behind the tree." "Yeah," Derekk
remarked, "Must be a bb gun." He opened it, revealing a red
rider, the very one of American lore-- what seperated the
boys from men

"Dad," says Derekk unexpectedly in a tone that spoke of
matured seriousness, "I'm gay." Dad, a semi-hardened, but
novertheless, cool as fuck dude, slowly gazed his eyes
above his lens crafters frames. "Come again, son?" Derekk,
again, repeated his devil-may-give-a-damn words. "And what
makes you come to this revelation, Derekk?" goes
dad. "Well..." Derekk thoughtfully surmissed, "'Cause I'm
utterly moved by Hemingway's words. Anyway, Merry
Christmas, daddy"

^Later, Derekk would often refer back to Hemingway and his
suicide. "That man has got it all together" he'd say
emotionless, "He's got it all figured out...death-- what a
means to an end"