Welcome to Scribd, the world's digital library. Read, publish, and share books and documents. See more
Standard view
Full view
of .
Save to My Library
Look up keyword
Like this
0 of .
Results for:
No results containing your search query
P. 1


Ratings: (0)|Views: 5 |Likes:
Published by DooZer Bic

More info:

Published by: DooZer Bic on Nov 19, 2008
Copyright:Attribution Non-commercial


Read on Scribd mobile: iPhone, iPad and Android.
download as DOC, PDF, TXT or read online from Scribd
See more
See less





Dear Diatribe
That titty man is back again

The evening completely blew away expectations. This
Gerhardstein is somewhere in his 60s; his back and neck are very
noticeably stiff; the stiffness is far more exaggerated by the
fact that his goddamn name is Gerhardstein.

He is not the kind of man that emanates warmth; not at
first glance anyway. There was something to see though if you
were looking. I was looking because Geeta set me up for it.
There was a tone in her descriptions of him, the source of which
I wanted to see.

Helen is his wife. She is sassy and he responded with a
knowing grin that speaks volumes about his own impish nature.
Something in that made me smile and want to know more, even
beyond my wife\u2019s encouragement. One of the Chopin Nocturnes was
playing when we walked in, which I recognized and commented on.

Chopin \u2026 Horowitz?
He says \u201cno\u201d, and the music stopped as he gestures toward
his entering wife.
Mrs. Gerhardstein you play beautifully.
One of the Nocturne\u2019s is impressive enough.
She asked if I played. You and I know that isn\u2019t a
question I like to answer.
No, I can\u2019t play any more"

Geeta\u2019s hand comforted me for a moment.
"Did you have a broken heart son?\u201d
So, Tribe, how do I answer that one?

No, I just really can\u2019t play anymore. It\u2019s a physical
thing. I still know where all the notes are, I just can\u2019t play
them like I used to.

She backed off that line of questioning, and turned to see
Geeta. She greeted her like a lifelong friend. That was odd,
and endearing. Geeta lifted her right hand to greet her, with
her left, she grabbed you Tribe, my vade mecum. She wanted to
keep us apart during dinner conversation. Don\u2019t take it
personally; she just doesn\u2019t understand what we have together.
Fuck, I don\u2019t understand what we have together. We have only
words Tribe.

Dinner was nice. A baked trout with shiitake mushrooms.
Shiitake have a distinct taste, but plate presentation with such

an ingredient is a key. You wouldn\u2019t dice them, regardless of
the gustatory value of the small pieces. There needs to be, and
were, long cuts screaming \u201cSHIITAKE\u201d. It is the way to go.

I assume it was made by one of them, complemented as such.
However there was no sign of sweat and labor from preparing the
meal. Could be like a cooking show, maybe it was done for them.
I think it\u2019s best to assume that they did. Is it assuming the
best to say they did? Purchasing the best might be just as
noble. It was good.

The night got me thinking that the Geet and I should be
hanging out with a set in their late sixties and early 70\u2019s. The
dinner conversation sparkled. Then it challenged me a bit. Ah,
to have erudite conversation with the well-read and well-spoken.
Something we need to have now and again.

Either this Gerhardstein was excited to meet me, or is a
really phony bastard.
I cowered at his bona fides. \u201cWhat is it that you do?\u201d
\u201cTell me more about your work?\u201d

You\u2019re a doctor who runs an AIDS Center! What is my
meaningful contribution to the planet? I\u2019m office fodder sir,
may I fax something for you? He kept asking and I had to keep

You're Reading a Free Preview

/*********** DO NOT ALTER ANYTHING BELOW THIS LINE ! ************/ var s_code=s.t();if(s_code)document.write(s_code)//-->