Upon Finding You Alive
Originally published in Word Riot, Feb 15, 2010
“Dear Madam, after responding to a Xeroxed message taped to the wall of the State Unemployment Department, and after taking and passing the required tests, I was hired to memorize correspondence, and deliver and recite said correspondence to addressees up and down our fine country. Which brings me to a letter written to you many years ago by a certain Ms Gelbart, though never mailed. Ms. Gelbart hopes you and your family, if you have one, are in good health.
“For your information; if on arrival I had discovered you dead I would be saying much of what I am currently saying, but doing so standing beside your grave, or in front of your reliquarium rather than where I am currently standing, which, since you have neither invited me in, nor unchained your door, is in the hall.
“Ms. Gelbart begs your indulgence about my appearance; the soiled suit, the scuffed shoes. The note attached to my lapel is a listing of jobs in order of preference to which I feel suited. If you wish further information, I give you permission to unbutton my shirt. Taped to my chest with hypoallergenic surgical tape you will find a manila envelope containing copies of my C.V., feel free to take one.
“It is Ms. Gelbart’s hope that information contained in this brief introduction will refresh your memory about who Ms. Gelbart is, since much time has flowed since the two of you were in communication. Ms. Gelbart wishes to remind you of your last letter to her. I shall recite a portion of that letter, but will not do so in the high-pitched voice I will later use when reciting the portion of Ms. Gelbart’s never mailed letter. That high-pitched voice is, as I am sure you are aware—perhaps—used only when male memorizer's recite the words of a female client.
"You wrote, and I quote: ‘It embarrasses me to be your literary representative for I find your work dated and sentimental and if we had not entered into a contractual agreement I would not rep you, but since I am your rep I will get back to you when there is anything of worth to mention.’
“It is true that some people ascribe to the saying; ‘The past is the past, so get over it!’ Ms. Gelbart, however, is not one of those people and wishes you to know that her book—the dated sentimental one, has been made into a major motion picture, the name of which Ms. Gelbart, for reasons she did not articulate, wishes withheld, though she has instructed me to tell you that it stars Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie and has been nominated for fourteen Globes.
“I will now recite Ms. Gelbart’s letter in high-pitched falsetto, and as instructed I will shout.
“HAVING HEARD NOTHING FROM YOU IN MONTHS, WHEN NOT SOAKING IN THE TUB I AM IN THE ALLEY THROWING STONES AT PIGEONS. MY HUSBAND HAS TAKEN OUR FIVE YEAR OLD TO CHUCK E. CHEESE TO CELEBRATE THE SUCCESSFUL COMPLETION OF HIS FIRST DAY IN KINDERGARTEN. IN THE POSTAGE STAMP PARK ACROSS THE STREET, SWINGS HANG MOTIONLESS, A TANGLE OF SQUIRRELS SQUABBLE OVER A HALF EATEN CANDY BAR. A YELLOW CAB SLOWS IN FRONT OF MY HOUSE. IT STOPS. YOU ARE NOT IN IT. HOW CAN THAT BE POSSIBLE?
“When finished, which I am, it is (SOP) suggested you offer me a glass of water.”
“Dear Madam, after responding to a Xeroxed message taped to the wall of the State Unemployment Department, and after taking and passing the required tests, I was hired to memorize correspondence, and deliver and recite said correspondence to addressees up and down our fine country. Which brings me to a letter written to you many years ago by a certain Ms Gelbart, though never mailed. Ms. Gelbart hopes you and your family, if you have one, are in good health.
“For your information; if on arrival I had discovered you dead I would be saying much of what I am currently saying, but doing so standing beside your grave, or in front of your reliquarium rather than where I am currently standing, which, since you have neither invited me in, nor unchained your door, is in the hall.
“Ms. Gelbart begs your indulgence about my appearance; the soiled suit, the scuffed shoes. The note attached to my lapel is a listing of jobs in order of preference to which I feel suited. If you wish further information, I give you permission to unbutton my shirt. Taped to my chest with hypoallergenic surgical tape you will find a manila envelope containing copies of my C.V., feel free to take one.
“It is Ms. Gelbart’s hope that information contained in this brief introduction will refresh your memory about who Ms. Gelbart is, since much time has flowed since the two of you were in communication. Ms. Gelbart wishes to remind you of your last letter to her. I shall recite a portion of that letter, but will not do so in the high-pitched voice I will later use when reciting the portion of Ms. Gelbart’s never mailed letter. That high-pitched voice is, as I am sure you are aware—perhaps—used only when male memorizer's recite the words of a female client.
"You wrote, and I quote: ‘It embarrasses me to be your literary representative for I find your work dated and sentimental and if we had not entered into a contractual agreement I would not rep you, but since I am your rep I will get back to you when there is anything of worth to mention.’
“It is true that some people ascribe to the saying; ‘The past is the past, so get over it!’ Ms. Gelbart, however, is not one of those people and wishes you to know that her book—the dated sentimental one, has been made into a major motion picture, the name of which Ms. Gelbart, for reasons she did not articulate, wishes withheld, though she has instructed me to tell you that it stars Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie and has been nominated for fourteen Globes.
“I will now recite Ms. Gelbart’s letter in high-pitched falsetto, and as instructed I will shout.
“HAVING HEARD NOTHING FROM YOU IN MONTHS, WHEN NOT SOAKING IN THE TUB I AM IN THE ALLEY THROWING STONES AT PIGEONS. MY HUSBAND HAS TAKEN OUR FIVE YEAR OLD TO CHUCK E. CHEESE TO CELEBRATE THE SUCCESSFUL COMPLETION OF HIS FIRST DAY IN KINDERGARTEN. IN THE POSTAGE STAMP PARK ACROSS THE STREET, SWINGS HANG MOTIONLESS, A TANGLE OF SQUIRRELS SQUABBLE OVER A HALF EATEN CANDY BAR. A YELLOW CAB SLOWS IN FRONT OF MY HOUSE. IT STOPS. YOU ARE NOT IN IT. HOW CAN THAT BE POSSIBLE?
“When finished, which I am, it is (SOP) suggested you offer me a glass of water.”