Dear Diatribe;

I had intended to sit somewhere nice and decompress into

you last night. No such luck. I had such a luck I could have

never counted upon. Mine came in the form of a little old man

who came into the barn at about midnight.

I was fatigued by his presence at first. I wanted to

decompose, as I had said. He had spent the previous night

talking with Gerhardstein. They are old friends and I would

expect that. I was impressed with myself as he wanted to meet

with me.

He came out to the barn and dismissed the students. He

told them they could go home. He seemed like a thoughtful,

fatherly sort concerned about these youngsters getting some

sleep.

He was just trying to tear me away.

I had become quite busy and hard to get a moment with. I

don’t really know how to manage and do things at the same time.

I guess you have to figure out how to not “do”, or to make “do”.

People in management would probably have my head if I were to

suggest they don’t “do” anything.

My friend Dan is in Management; Arts Management. Chuckle

if you will; I have and intend to.

Dr. Blythe brought out a bottle of port and two glasses

that looked like comically miniaturized goblets. “Finally, we

can have some time.”

“I hope I didn’t muss your workings in anyway by shooing

them.”

No, it is a bit late, and I have time scheduled with them

tomorrow. They have dedicated every moment outside of classes

to this work. That is an impressive dedication that I would

assume it is a tribute to your influence.

“Don’t short your own ideas Peter. They have all read

pieces of your Diatribe. You have made them Open Source

devotees. They have been eager to meet you for months.”

How is that possible?

“That wife of yours fancied you in the ways of love. When

you shared the idea with her, she thought it sounded brilliant,

but had to put the proper doubt to it. Understood; she might

have been blinded by her more amorous passions. She wanted it

checked out.”

She said she had told Gerhardstein about it. Then she
brought him about five pages of my writings to give some

details.

“There is no lie in her telling. It’s not how I would have

ordered the narrative.”

Fill me in

He popped the cork on the bottle of port and poured me a

glass. “You deserve refreshment; partake.” I did as he asked.

“We can walk a bit, get out of this barn and enjoy the garden.

If we fancy a seat, there are far more comfortable environs in

the house.”

His most-affable demeanor and basset hound face drew me to

follow him as he picked up the bottle and his own glass and

sauntered into the yard (make that garden).

“Sangeeta came to me for the vetting of your manifesto. I

was as interested, if only to get a sense of this man she had

taken as her connubial other.”

I had a fleeting sense of anger that my personal writings were

shared, without my knowledge, with someone I don’t know.

How much did she send you?

“It started with just a few pages outlining the Open-Source

paradigm. I asked for more again and again.”

Did she oblige?

“Yes, each time she was able to send me more than I had

expected. It began to beg a central question. ‘Exactly where

does this bloke, while working as a technologist, find the time

and reason to write in such detail on, what one might call,

unrelated subject matter?”

I ask that question of myself at times.

“Indubitably you would.”

“She began to tell me about this diarist she had found. At

that point I wanted more of your personality sent to me. I have

become a fan, I must say.”

Thanks? I did not know I had any. Not sure I will live

up to this type of adulation.

“I did get the feeling that I was invading your privacy. I

wanted to clear that up. I had thought I might come to Chicago

this summer.”

It would be great to have you.

“That is not what is happening. You are here”

 How long was this in the works? How long am I here for?

“That is going to be a decision you make. We needed to

know whether this thing would go at all, how big it would be,

and how much work it would take. That work is yours to do.

So I am here as long as this takes?

“You can stay as long as you need to be here to do it; that

is how I would define it.”

That makes me feel in control of my own path. First

feeling like that since leaving for Barcelona

“Do you feel as if you’ve been deceived?”

I told him that would be a hard phrasing to defend. No

matter what they told me before, at least they think they are

giving me my greatest opportunity. Who am I to argue?

I was just looking for another contract gig. I would have

accepted one no matter what. I could be working in a real shit-

hole right now. Who knows? I might be now. But what man

wouldn’t work in a shit-hole if it were the one his wife wanted

him to work at?

You have a great relationship with Geeta. She hasn’t

spoken about you often with me though. I wish she had.

 “The only one you ever hear about is probably ‘Cha-Cha

Baboo’”

Yes, that is a name I recognize. Someone in India I think

“No, that is me. The first half is an honorific for

‘uncle’, this flatters me. The back half is an Indian insult

for a countryman in the employ of the British Colonial

Government. I am a beloved Viceroy, from what I understand.”

There is no doubt now that you are speaking of my wife.

I went on to explain that in a very Polish city like

Chicago you get accustomed to people referring to grandparents

as Na-Na and Pap-Pap, or such cutesy designations. Cha-Cha

sounded similar to that.

She has gone on at length about academic-types she grew up

with around Harvard. I usually take insult at the very mention

of them. Probably my most evolved and mature quality

The reason why I haven’t inquired about you or so many

others who were so influential in her life is, I must admit, I

don’t listen to my wife enough.

“The Achilles heel of many a man, my boy”

I am that heel. An entire Iliad could be written about me.

“You should be so lucky. Homer would need a living ghost

writer. I believe you are dictating another type of story right

now. Can’t we say that you have the chance at your bloody

dreams here?”

I can’t hide that my doubts. But if dream fulfillment was the

impetus behind all that has transpired, I am all for it.

“It is for Sangeeta and when she believes in something, people

will follow. You know that.

I’ve always noticed the power; never the drive to lead or

inspire.

“I think she needs the right time. Either that or she finds the

right time. Gerhardstein and I were both interested in your

ideas for our own reasons. It was your wife that convinced us

to take it where we are, and with you in the fold.”

I could no longer record anymore of the conversation.

There were technical issues that it wasn’t the time to remedy.

A feeling overtook me that my idiosyncrasy is more than a little

bit dismissive of others.

For others it tempts the edges of their expectations of

privacy. I try to come off as someone who just wants to

remember all that you say. Like it is respectful; it can be,

sometimes. To most of the people who think I am intrusive by

recording thoughts. For those who fear my future use of their

comments. I sincerely say “Fuck you all”, unless you are

someone I like.

I don’t think if I ever met anyone before where I was so

sincere about wanting to remember every word they said. While

this was the case, I didn’t know if I would fully hear anything

that was said if I had relied on a recording. I could have

excused myself for ten minutes or so, fixed my recording issues,

and come right back, but I didn’t want to leave at all.

I recount the rest, the best I can, now.

Quickly back to business, he asked how much help I was

getting out of Chicago. I said I was impressed with this young

Miles. Not so much his technical acumen, more his drive and

ability to cut through obstacles.

He asked if we shared the love for Jazz that myself and

Gerhardstein hold so dear. Not really, his father played Jazz,

but he is young and more into rap and hip-hop.

“Does that must take him down a bit in your view?”

No, not at all, sir

 “It would for me, that stuff isn’t even music. That whole

gangster thing is complete rubbish. I needn’t be berated with

dreadful limericks about hooliganism.”

I was crestfallen. Curmudgeonly discourse from the man who

I was starting to think was a luminous enlightened being; a rara

avis if I may say. He was coming across as the same

misanthropic soreheads that I am accustomed to suffering the

mindless remonstrations about anything new that they are

unfamiliar with. I cringed until I realized…

He was laughing at me. I responded to this in the most

eloquent manner possible.

What?

“You will understand when you reach the middle and golden

years. Within the Caucasian community, we need to procure

acquisitions.”

What exactly are we acquiring?

“Our people no longer invent music. We only offer our

disdain for it until it slowly becomes our own” he said through

his chuckle-suppressing snorts. It sounded similar to something

I wrote in a diatribe. I am nearly sure it is.

 “I begin by saying that it isn’t music; or some jungle this

or that. Before long; we have made an alabaster acquisition.”

Tribal Cognomen: Jungle Music

I will have to admit a certain amount of geek in my sheets.

I have laughed a couple of times at comments by Blythe. I

Laughed as I would at the old-man character in a British comedy.

In the entertainment arena, I think I might have laughed,

regardless of quality. We are speechlessly cracking together.

For one moment of this I felt a fear that such a connection

left me vulnerable. Should I be guarded in what I say here?

Then I came back to my principles. I don’t think about those

things. I implore you that you should. Every moment of your

life you should be guarded. You should not trust anyone.

I like this guy. He is almost eighty-seven years old. How

in the hell do people live that long? My dad was fifty when he

died in the hospice floor of the hospital.

Hospitals don’t have long-term hospice care. They move your

loved one there if they are going to die, but not within a

convenient hour or two. The nurses are trained for that. 5-12

hours; they have no idea what to do about that.

I would never say that my dad lived long enough. It is

just at fifty, when he died, it was eight years after we first

heard the “cancer” word. The hospice has volunteers that are

very well trained in “end of life” issues.

Our volunteer was wonderful. He is eighty years old at the

time. I of course thought of, and mentioned it right away.

This guy was thirty years old when dad was born. I am only

twenty-six. I wonder what I have left.

This old man gives me an idea that growing old might be OK.

He likes the most biting in my writing. I told him so.

The sighting of someone who likes what’s biting in my

writing is truly exciting. Perhaps he misread it and found it

inviting. He is quite old, perhaps it was the lighting.

He laughed and we walked. We kept the port with us and

headed into the house. There rear entrance was through glass

doors.

We talked more about the old man’s long association with my

wife. Sangeeta

I reminisced for him.

Sangeeta, light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my

soul. San-Gee-ta: the tip of the tongue taking a trip of three

steps down the palate to tap, at three, on the teeth.

San Gee Ta.

She was Geet, plain Geet, in the morning, standing five

feet nine in one sock. She was Geeta in slacks. She was Geety at

school. (Aside) Sometimes Lovely Geeta Meter Made. But in my

arms she was always Sangeeta.

I am glad he enjoyed that. It wasn’t until I began saying

it that I realized the reference could touch the unspeakable.

If a young man meets the elderly gent that his wife had been

close friends with, is any mention of Nabakov appropriate?

I think that I had a safe lead-in to it. He was talking

about me being such a “lucky man”, but me probably “not

realizing it yet”. He did laugh heartily at my Lolita spin-off.

But, then again, he moved on quickly.

“I like what you’ve brought us here. I was not sure about

Sangeeta’s thrust that we let you discover things at a pace. I

am not sure it was needed, but I enjoy watching you realize

things as you go along.”

I told him how impressed I was at the operation he had

ready to go for this. He said that he had all of these assets

to put to a good use any time. He often has. He raved about

the excitement over this. This not only came from Biochemistry

students. He had Computer Science/MIS people, and even some

legal types who were interested in helping.

He asked me about my thoughts on the patent. With a few

seconds consideration, I told him he should patent it himself.

He could then assign the patent to a SO/Med organization.

There is a difference between his drug and my written

musings about the ideal future SO/Med Pharmaceutical. Yours was

fully developed before SO/Med even existed. That is; if it

really exists now.

Let’s say it does exist.

In my own words it would be a jim-dandy place for you to

entrust your invention. But what the fuck to I know? You need

to keep the rights to this thing in case our grand plan falls

into the shit-hole everyone would expect it too.

On top of that, I don’t think that an organization whose

very existence is in doubt can get a patent. A Cambridge

Biochemistry Professor can. Somewhere in there you are going to

have to be nice to Cambridge; lest they try to claim ownership

of it.

He told me that I was considering every worry in his own

head at the time. He said that Gerhardstein had told him I was

that way. I am said to be one who doesn’t leave stones

unturned. I am flattered.

My legal calculations in the Tribe didn’t spread that much

detail outside of American statutes and strategies. In the five

years I have been writing this I have probably spent little more

than four or five nights researching laws other than the

domestic variety. You can research them online, but if you

can’t read the language…

He told me he was going to set up some meetings about the

patent. He said his expert was impressed with my layman’s

efforts at the barrister’s craft. I was just writing in my

journal.

He said that we would discuss the legal aspects of things.

He wants me at the meetings with his attorneys. I will serve as

a consigliere for him. He said that he won’t make the decision

alone.

I told him that I would be in need his help with the

scientific part of things. Seeing that all of this is has a

very scientific element to this enterprise.

“I thought you would understand. The reason I was in the

house for the last two days was to get Richard ready to go back

to Chicago. I would have extended you the invitation, but you

had a full plate with your tasks out in the barn. I also wanted

you to be in charge out there. I wanted it to be both reality

and perception.”

I appreciate his help in these things. I was working

without a net with these students that seem smarter and more

accomplished that I am. I won’t overdo my humility. I don’t

think I’m dumb. One’s designation as wise, learned or

intellectual is based on three aspects.

Location, Location, Location

This is a phrase for which I count myself the author. I

originally coined it a bit differently. It was…

Location, Location, Location, Location

So it was shortened a bit.

I feel appropriately clever amongst my professional peers.

I have only been attracted to friends whom of some substantial

wit. There are areas where each of my mates exceeds me in some

way, but none truly tower. These mere students are in programs

that I could not get admitted to, at a University I could not

afford. University of Chicago is over my head. That was one

thing that gave me reservations about moving to Hyde Park. My

wife is a student and staff member there. We have that

connection. The way she presents herself, most people probably

assume she is faculty.

Blythe told me that he would be spending his days in the

barn until classes begin. They don’t start here until October.

“After that I can only commit every waking moment I am not in

class. Part of your responsibilities will be getting yourself

set up at home until that time.”

I offered him the other half of the conference table in my

“office”. He said he would get nothing done in there. He said

he didn’t want to diminish my authority with the Technologists.

He said that he can demand it from his students, but I need to

hold the mantle of leadership with the players of all

disciplines.

I know you like my ideas. This blandishment is truly

inspiring. My wife has sold me well. I can never thank her

enough for that. You have fallen hook, line and sinker for all

of it. That puzzles me. You confer doctorates at a great

university. You can weed through things yourself.

I have abilities. I could take care of the computerization

of this operation. I could manage it. That alone would be a

step up for me. Both Dr. Gerhardstein and you are far more

suited to overall stewardship. Birthing an international

organization and engendering the trust of luminaries across the

globe?

I have and continually develop more and more respect for

you. As I have said, I owe all of this to the confidence of

Sangeeta. I love her more as her clandestine plans for my

success are revealed. I hope to not offend you, but I am

getting the feelings brought about by reports of the worst

hucksters taking advantage of the elderly. I shutter to think

that my sweet bride might be perpetrating that same fraud.

Again he laughed. “Perhaps I should explain further.

There is a confidence that emanates from Sangeeta, but you were

correct that it shouldn’t, and wouldn’t, be enough for me.

Through a weekend of face-to-face banter, several phone calls,

an endless thread of e-mail and, for the past year, instant

messaging, I have developed opinions I consider my own.

He went on to give this memoir-thiness-seeking diarist a

telling of mine own biography that I could never out do. I will

retell as best I can here.

He has had dialogue with Sangeeta, a great deal of it

regarding me. He started with rather understated curriculum

vitae. He described his own life as following a trodden path.

University (top grades), grad school (top grades), publishing,

teaching, publishing and never perishing. “You can peruse the

biographies of anyone in a similar position and find scant

differences.”

The bio is a classic. I think it’s a good one. It just

works. He might have become bored with truly stunning

qualification assessments. Those who suck are a real

phenomenon, something any scientist would be interested in

studying the genus. Blythe took an interest in my specifics.

The only word I can think of for these attributes is “scrappy”.

One could throw around pugnacious or resilient. You could refer

to me as someone too cowardly for suicide; reluctantly living

with success at the level of their lineage.

In comparison with his trodden path, he was impressed with

my ability to find eek out a profession despite various road

blocks.

“I don’t know what I would have done if my path became

unclear. It can be financial, or medical, or a simple as a

professor simply not liking me. I haven’t the foggiest what I

would have done.”

“From what I was told, you began in music. The departure to

technology work seems a distant venture. Reading this diatribe

of yours stunned me. This goes beyond what I have seen anyone

write in a journal. It is obsessive, that’s for sure.”

I had to ask him how discussions with my wife ended up

getting so detailed. His answer, as they often are, was

heartwarming.

“Our discussions were bound to get detailed. Since she had

been small I had hoped that she would love and be loved. I was

intrigued to learn about this man of hers.”

He assured me that he was not man-obsessed. He described

some kind of fatherly-friend, confidant connection. He

emphasized that this was only what brought him to read my

ranting. He claims that his professional interest in open

source medicine was sparked by what he saw as truly inspired

work.

“Your diatribes are rife with philosophical content. Some

through quotation, which shows its grounding, some of it is

homegrown Peter Epistemology. As a scientist, I should not be

loath to have the sophists leading the way. That is how it has

always been. If you live long enough to see any of this

philosophy bear fruit, it will then be called science.”

 If I know one thing, it is that I know nothing.

Let’s send out some super mega-dittos to Socrates. Either I

can ditto him or use a Platonic strategy. I could just write

this with Socrates as my own voice. I will not do that, but if

it is something the reader would like, they can just assume that

anything in italics is being said by Socrates.

I had read this before. It is said that philosophy is on

the front lines of understanding. Once something is known and

useful, it has been conquered by those on the front lines.

Scientists build our society on the new terrain.

I never considered myself a philosopher. Not as a

profession any way. I am familiar with many concepts, but I am

not that pushy about them. I also do not have a goatee.

Taking in all he has said made it clear to me. This guy is

fucked in the head and I love it. Don’t get me wrong. I am not

going to base my life and career on it. You can have pride in

praise from a man like this.

One should never let an admirer’s senility detract from your

self-esteem, who’s to know when another will be by.

Bat-shit or not, I am developing an affinity for this

buzzard. I will swoon in such a way for two reasons.

 First, I have no reason to actually seriously say that he is

nuts. I joke about it, but I am hardly qualified to judge the

psychological status of anyone; let alone a PHD genius.

Second, and more importantly, what else do I have? If this

is nothing, I find another job. This would be exciting if it

were something. There is some money already, and the whole

situation makes things happy at home.

Being flattered and building confidence are good experiences

at any level of pay.