I'm scared to try starting the truck. I just know it won't work. Which means no laundry, no grocery store, no LAKE. Poor poor me. The rain is prodigious. My backyard is nearly flooded--last night, oh boy, last night was one of those nights Basho had to go out every five minutes. I'd take him out and he wouldn't do anything because of the heaps of rain and the squishy ground. So, we'd tumble back inside and into bed and as soon as I'd fall asleep, scratch scratch next to my ear. I feel like a slime bucket as a result of all this damp moldy weather. I feel exceedingly unpleasant.

Me poor mum. She's nervous about the upcoming holidays. Oliver, it seems, is on a rampage. Oliver is looking for someone to blame for Dan because Dan is both a drunk and he despises Oliver. Oh dear oh dear. I believe I failed to mention the email I received from Oliver a couple of weeks ago--it was horrible. He is gunning for Dan because he believes Dan is disrespectful towards him. I do not lie. This is how he sees the entire situation--not Dan in trouble and in pain and at war with himself--Dan, disrespecting him. He sent me and my parents the most temper tantrumy email, hoo boy. It also contained an ultimatum: everyone must sign a contract that there will be no alcohol in the house else he will not come home. What a fuckhead. First: there hasn't been alcohol in the house for the last three years when Dan's home. As soon as my parents realized the scope of his problem, they cleaned out all the liquor and beer. Meanwhile, Oliver has alternated between berating Dan for his problems and getting stoned or liquored up with him. So fuck you Oliver idiot. Second: a very large part of me is perfectly happy not to have him home this Christmas. But then there's an even larger part of me would be heartbroken if the whole family weren't together. I just know there's going to be a huge battle. I told my mom I'm sticking with Shawn and we will be sticking ourselves in a corner playing cribbage.

I think she's nervous because Oliver is looking to blame her for all of our family's problems. This makes me sick, really. He's almost 30 years old. He has yet to take responsibility for his own crazy. And by god, my parents did a hell of a job raising us, especially considering all the strikes against them: both come from abusive families, they were teenagers when they started this family, they were so dirt poor we ate oatmeal for every meal for years, we had no heat or electricity many times, we rolled pennies for food. But see, they could not have done a better job even if you take all those strikes away. They were and are wonderful wonderful parents. They kick all the other parents' asses. They are so good! Arg. It just makes me sick--especially when you look at people who have survived actual horror and have come out all right--able to take responsibility for their lives (like both of my folks, for instance). How dare he. It's downright offensive, the way he throws out accusations of abuse and dysfunction. I just want to shake him. But I know if I do that I'll have a real fight on my hands--a fight that I can't win. Damn it.

My mom has got herself to this great place where she's really figured out so much shit and really gotten happy. She has this new job she loves, her and my dad are getting along so well, she has a great group of friends, which is so rare for her because she's such a weirdo (the best kind of weirdo--but she's never fit in with her demographic) and I want to protect her. I want to protect Dan. And Shawn. He's the only one who's not had to live under the tyranny of Oliver and I don't want him anywhere near it. My pop and Joe--somehow the two of them have pretty much escaped the wrath of Oliver. My dad, in particular, is the only one who seems to know how to get along with that boy.

Shawn has always looked up to Oliver. I will say this for my older brother: he's strong and charismatic and wicked athletic and creative and has always tried to be a good brother to Shawn. But last year there was the first crack. They were taking down some massive vines in some of my parents' trees and Shawn starting taking down a vine that Oliver wanted to take down and Oliver lost it. Started screaming at him and calling him stupid and other horrible horrible things. Shawn fell to pieces. I wanted to kick the shit out of him. So now Shawn knows to keep his distance just like the rest of us. Except Dan, these days. That kid is spoiling for a fight. Last year, they came to physical blows for the first time. Dan started to rip into Oliver but what Dan forgot is that Oliver knows self-defense and Oliver cannot see anyone else's pain and so Oliver nearly had Dan in the hospital. It's horrible.

I didn't want to tell these parts. I'm afraid it doesn't give a right picture. I love my family so much--I love all of them. It's bad chemistry though, having us all under the same roof. It used to be the only shaking-the-foundation fights were between me and Oliver. We've nearly killed each other on many occasions. But I learned when he moved out to keep my distance. I don't tell him anything because he will use it against me. The last time he was able to rip me to shreds was 4 years ago--he had me curled up in a ball in the bathroom whispering horrible evil things under the door to me. Now I simply do not engage. But Dan has so much rage towards him--rightly so, as I know too well--and Dan is not in his right mind. Dan is pure self-destruction these days. And so my mother is nervous. I am too. Dear god, help us.

My family's house was a battleground all my life. But the moment Oliver moved out, peace reigned. We all looked around at each other that year in disbelief. We had no idea life could be so calm and easy. That was my last year at home but it was the first year I started to form real friendly connections with my dad and with Joe and Dan. Joe said to me recently, I don't know you at all. All my life you were just in your room. It's true, too. I retreated. Oliver is a strange and brutal force. I cannot explain it well. He was always thus and will always be thus, I fear. He tried to kill me, seriously kill me, 10 times before my fifth birthday. We couldn't have a babysitter because my parents could not trust anyone to watch out for him in this way. How do you explain that your 4-year-old has homicidal tendencies? He was a kid who got pleasure in the pain of weak creatures. I am steel forged from this cold and terrible fire--don't ever think I'm weak because I can't stand to witness pain. I've seen horrible things and I've held a knife to my brother and almost plunged it in because I could not bear that such horror be allowed. There is a force that moves in him that is not right, not good. I love him, but I am scared to death at what he is capable of. When I see the switch go on--the switch from in control, brutally rational, and, even sometimes kind and generous, to pure sadism, I run for cover.

My parents were scared to send him to school. He was such a terror at home--he terrorized everyone and he was strong--he had my mother on the floor many times as a toddler screaming and beating her--they didn't know what he'd do at school. But he was, as all his teachers described him, an angel. He has this wicked control, a mask he wears and he can fool almost anyone. It's the most frightening part.

Oh dear. I've really spilled some family mess now. I feel disloyal, somehow. To anyone reading this, know that you do not understand. I adore Oliver and I'm dead scared of him. But I do love him--he tries so hard to be good and to do good. My mom says she feels sorry for him and he does, truth be told, deserve our pity. You see, I, we, none of us, can entirely blame him for how he is, it seems so wholly separate from him, like some wicked spirit shares his body. But the wickedness has wreaked havoc with us, with Dan in particular, and somebody has got to pay.

Ok, yeah, my family's fucked up. God help us.