Oh, Jonathan, what can I say? He was my brother in all ways but blood. We certainly fought like siblings, at times! He was a lovable, brilliant, cantankerous, obstinate, impossible, and, not infrequently, loving son-of-a-bitch. I've known Jonathan since I was 11 and he was 20-almost-21--He was my mother's first "adopted child." He introduced me to, among other things, Stillbrook corn liquor and my first true love . Jonathan lived, for many years, in an apartment on 19th St., NW, in DC, and I remember spending hours and hours there, indulging in substances legal and otherwise, laughing, talking, and listening to music. Andy Wallace and I were just reminisching about the decor Jonathan favored--a stuffed snake (in a baby coffin), a polar bear rug (head intact), and a wall full of records. Then there was the coatimundi phase--it's name was "Plinth," as I recall. Well, every man needs a pet.

He did, in fact, set fire to my friend Kit's hair, one evening in my mother's kitchen. (Is it any wonder I've been in therapy for so many years?) Jonathan was a notoriously pleasant drunk. After a shot or two, he'd forget about the contempt he had for the rest of us and become affectionate and (dare I say it?) SWEET, and want to stay up late at night talking--We once talked half the night away over a bottle of Stillbrook in a train compartment headed for Vermont. I believe the subject matter was the vicissitudes of love!

One summer, Jonathan, my mother, and I spent a summer touring together, singing at festivals and putting on concerts. (Our unofficial name was "The Gospel Jews")We spent hours (and I do mean HOURS) on the road, driving from place to place, rehearsing in the car. At one point, to amuse ourselves (hour 1,273, I think), Jonathan and i decided to converse only in "Swedish"-sounding noises, interspersed with shouts of "Yah, yah, oh yah!" My mother threatened to leave us by the side of the road. (See earlier therapy reference)

I've missed my brother Jonathan for years, and now he's really gone. I'm sad as hell.