kai strandskov, drummer

How do I describe Kai–my boyfriend, the drummer? Kai’s an all around good guy. He looks like someone you wouldn’t want to mess with, and you probably wouldn’t. You’d probably want to buy him a beer instead. But he looks like a wall of testosterone behind the drum kit. He’s got these broad shoulders and he’s sporting the cue ball look and he has the ability to grow a full beard almost overnight. But this is the guy who taught me how to cook tofu and likes to talk about Fermat’s last theorem and is really into Balkan folk music. He’s smart, and he’s easy-going, and he’s impossible not to get along with. He just looks like he’s the bouncer.

His brothers are the same way. The middle brother looks like he could tie a chain around his waist and tow a Mack truck, but he’s a photographer of delicate detail and he sings in the choir. The baby brother, with his long hair, looks like some sort of urban Viking who could pillage the bar at any minute, but he’s about to get his BA in literature and was in A/V club in high school.

Kai brings me pink cupcakes with sprinkles when I have a bad day because he knows they’re my favorite. Kai tells more people than I do when I win an award or get a promotion. Kai “likes” every photo I ever put on Facebook. So, yes… I can live with the constant tapping.

invisible top hat

Hidden Number
Seattle, 2000s

When some people get drunk, they become beligerent, or slutty, or wistful. I myself like to announce to people that I am, in fact, drunk and then I laugh loudly about things in my head that I don’t share with people. I also tend to get drunk on embarrassingly elaborate fruity drinks in shades of pink or blue. When Dean gets drunk, he becomes an 1890s dandy. Dean drinks Manhattans, “a refreshing libation.” When the bars close, Dean’s place is a popular destination. “To my parlor! There will be merriment until the morning lights the wainscotting!”

Dean’s apartment, in the basement of an art gallery, has no windows but it does have a full video surveillance system. Every wall, and some doorways, are draped ceiling to floor in red velvet curtains. The rooms are lit by electronic candlelight, wired to sconces along the walls. The furniture is a combination of Victorian wood and upholstery and bench seats from the van the band gutted to fit the equipment in. To the right of the entrance are shelves supporting phonographs, books on the occult, and Victor, Dean’s ventriloquist dummy. To the left is a TV. Would you like to watch any given episode of Pee Wee’s Playhouse, or would you prefer an old Houdini film? Too bad! Those are your choices. This is why you shouldn’t follow a drunk guy back to his windowless apartment. “I seem to have misplaced my monocle. Do you enjoy the theremin?”