Delk – Part III

I have been posting quite a bit lately, but writing is the only way to get rid of these thoughts, as Nietzsche wrote.

Getting back to the story, we were to experiment with the delk on Sunday night. I was to act as an observer, performing rigorous calisthenics and algebraic equations.

I spent that Sunday in the same way I spend most Sundays if I have the opportunity. At the art museum. The art museum came to represent something special in my life. Not because of the later Ghoul Squad meetings in the coffee/gift shop and not because it was the location of Rich’s first of many brushes with Johnny Law. No, it is special because it was there that on that fateful Sunday I first met Sol & Pepper.

I was staring raptly at the portraits of Richard Gerstl, part of a traveling exhibit, wishing the museum had provided some biographical information on the artist. Usually, I find such trivialities to be distracting and it annoys me that many visitors spend more time looking at the placards on the wall than they do studying the art itself! But, I was so struck by these enigmatic paintings that I had to know more. My reverie was interrupted by a sweet voice that would become increasingly familiar in the weeks to follow.

“And after his affair with Mathilde, he was so overcome with guilt that he burnt all of his letters, all of his artwork, hung AND stabbed himself! I mean, how do you do that? How can you stab yourself while hanging from a rope! Obviously very talented. Or did he stab himself and then hang himself? How does that work? Jeepers!”

A male voice grunted in reply.

This kind of tawdry artist gossip was exactly the kind of information I had been seeking. I whirled around to see who commenting on these remarkable painting. I must have overdone the whirling a bit since the young woman let out a loud yelp of surprise. I overcame my great embarrasment and introduced myself to the pair. The striking young lady with long, jet black hair was named Pepper. Her hulking musclebound brother, Sol, had hair that was equally dark, but quite short and wirey.

“Sol and Pepper!” I chuckled. “You must …” My jocuse witticism was stopped dead in its tracks by a glare from Sol. “You must … know quite a bit about art”, I recovered.

“Oh,” Pepper blushed. “Well, I’m a painting student at the university and I have an interest in the expressionists.”

“You must know my good friend Ritchie Sauces then”, I said, happy to have someone in common.

“Oh yes, he’s quite a good artist! Very conservative, which the teachers hate, but he’s really good with heartwarming family scenes and tasteful nude portraits. What artists are you interested in?” This started a spirited discussion that lasted through the exhibition continuing on through the rest of the museum and on to Ms. Yi’s Chinese buffet.

Sol was characteristically quiet. I will admit that I initially made the same mistake that most people make upon meeting Sol. Because of his size and his reticent manner, people assume that he is not very bright. This could not be further from the truth. Not only is Sol the smartest person I know, he is the smartest person I know OF. At first, I didn’t think he was paying much attention to the conversation, but every once in a while he would throw out a terse observation that showed that not only was he keeping up, but he probably knew more about the subject than most experts. What a remarkable individual that I am proud to call Friend.

As the conversation proceeded, it became clear that Pepper and I had so much in common. We both loved Giacometti. We didn’t care for Bukowski. Neither one of us could see the influence of Giacinto Scelsi on the work of Gerard Grisey and Tristan Murail. Oh, how Sol mocked us for weeks about that!

The conversation turned to Shakespeare and Pepper asked “Did you know about the university production of Hamlet next week!? You have to come along! We have an extra ticket since my boyfriend Renaldo can’t make it.” Boyfriend?! My heart sank. I hoped that my expression did not betray my feelings.

“Oh”, I ventured, not as nonchalantly as I had hoped. “Why didn’t he join you at the museum today? Did he have to work?”

“Oh no”, said Pepper. “He just doesn’t care for art.”

Doesn’t care for art! My world made no sense.

I fumbled for my calendar to see if I was available the night of the play when I happened to glance at the clock above Ms. Yi at the bar. I was late! I had completely lost track of time! Nigel and the others had taken the delk nearly an hour ago! I hastily excused myself and ran out into the night hoping I was not too late.