Today's Moment of Weirdness:
Got email from my brother about the neice appearing in a musical this weekend. Normal family business & whatnot it was (well, as normal as things can be in this strained and disjointed excuse for a family). But then at the end, for the first time I've ever seen, he signed with his initials, all lower case & shit.

There it was: "jt." Never seen that before from him.

And then instantly my mind is flashing back to those notes the old man left on the table after he'd been kicked out but still came back to creepy-crawl the house when he'd been drinking. Some stupid couple paragraphs scrawled on the back of an envelope or whatever was handy, all whiney and belligerent at the same time. And always signed "bt" there at the bottom.

I had no idea until this moment how strong the memory of those two little cursive letters was, how much emotion was tagged onto the little graphic image in my head. And I'm also wondering now, for pretty much the first time even after discussing all the ups & downs of that shit pretty intensely for a few years, why I even saw those notes. Why were they left on the table, instead of disposed of quickly? Why the hell did I need to be shown that crap when I was still a kid?

Stupid how much idea can be attached to such a small trigger.