in memoriam:: PETER

IN MEMORIAM:
PETER

1965-2005

Sadly, Peter killed himself last month just as he was on the cusp of his 40th birthday (his “actuality” is listed in September below). I don’t have much to say about this (a lie) except that I still don’t believe it (even though I went to the memorial service two weeks ago). I miss him slowly and gently, the way one does when remembering a favorite pet from a long ago childhood. There are pangs and waves and yet he is still with me in vivid memories and influences that will never really go away – and for that I am very grateful. I don’t really believe in death anyway – to me, Peter is obviously somewhere else in another form. Certainly in a better place, mentally, physically, and most of all psychically (and this is no rationalization).

Some things about Peter I’ll never forget:

He talked just like SNL’s Dennis Miller on News Update.

He insisted on calling “laptops” by what he claimed were their original names, “labtops.”

He wrote poems that weren’t really poems but long, surreal narratives that would have been perfectly suited for illustration by Daniel Clowes or Charles Burns.

He had the palest green eyes ever seen on a human being.

His voice remains on my answering machine with all its whining and support through some 17 messages I never bothered to erase.

He was a Charles Bukowski fan.

He did humorous imitations of people who pissed him off such as former bosses and a seriously bipolar therapist he visited only once.

He claimed he was six feet tall when he was obviously no more than 5'10.

He was never happier than going on summer fishing trips with his brothers and cousins (his exact words).

He tanned well, being part Hungarian, Italian, Welsh and 50% Swedish from his mother’s side.

He encouraged others to read their poetry at slams and avoided political jockeying that can happen there.

He wanted to learn ballroom dancing.

He practically lived at the library.

He had a cat named GUY from the sitcom “Frazier” – the French way.

He used to live in Japan and did some paintings there.

He had a love/hate relationship with pornography and sex.

He was an efficient, proficient cook.

He really knew how to economize without becoming miserly … for example, this summer he taught me the intrinsic beauty of KoolAid over sodapop.

His favorite movie was “Pulp Fiction.”

He could really ramble so sometimes you had to know when to put on the breaks (but he was usually gracious about it).

Last summer, at his rare suggestion, we went and saw “Willie Wonka and the Chocolate Factory.”

He quit smoking on a dime.

He could, in spite of his defensive cynicism, be incredibly supportive and diplomatic, graciously sensitive in difficult situations, and verbally affectionate.

He loved his family.

Peter, I’m glad I got to know you … please talk to me. Take care, peace, namaste, and love.

Above photo: by Robert Mapplethrope, "Smoky Rose."