Shine On, You Crazy Diamond

Today is my little brother Jim's bithday. December has, for reasons too numerous to list, yet no real reason at all,has always been my least favorite month. December is a FEELING month. i dont dig that much. I prefer to feel what I want when i want, and December, well, it had the effect of an unwanted suitor on my soul.My brother is the human enbodiment of December. We grew up, he and I, both adopted from different families, only 15 months apart, in what was then  middle America, but is now one of the most notorious ghettos in Rap  legend & lore. He and I did everything that kids do,took every lump kids take, and fell into every snare that is out there. All the while, he was my champion, my protecter, and my biggest fan, while I slapped him silly, scratched him to bloody shreds and locked him outdoors in his underwear at every opporotunity.The snares became more seductive as we became teenagers, and it was in those days that he became caught in what became his path in life, his drug addiction.The facinating part of becoming a drug addict is its like a time capsule. no matter how many days or years go by, you forever stay the same person you were the day you trade your soul. The remainder of that life, even in sobriety, is lived thru the egocentric, self-serving, and means-justify-the-end eyes of a teenage boy.As our lives  moved on,relationships were built children were born, loves were won and lost, and all the while he exsisted in this life i wish i didnt recognize. We were children of addiction, and the things we swore would never happen were our reality.So I checked out.Justified by the rhetoric I rehearsed..."I cant have that shit around my kids".... I bailed. Today, like every Dec.8th for the past 30 years, give or take a day, I think about him. his big soulfull eyes, so dark that you could see your own refection in them, allways a tilt of sorrow, until, of course, he would get you laughing so hard you would piss yourself. Then those eyes would turn just a bit soft and yet devilishly sharp, and seemed to take such pleasure in the fact he could bring me such pleasure. As if he were grateful to be giving me that gift.He is equal parts Peter Pan, Billy the Kid, and fucking Don Rickles.Everything he has ever done wrong, and I dont think even he could remember all of it, never touched him. He is the epitome of the word "Teflon" nothing ever stuck to him. No squaring the accounts, no paying the piper. His angels flipped the bill, over, and over, and over. But he could never get the pink slip on his life. I could go forever. So, today is his birthday.He is 47 years old today. And I am counting on the fact that those angels are there with you Heimy. I wish I could have afforded to pick up your tabs. I love you.