Goldberg Street (11 page)

Food

Two men:
C
and
D

C:
I've loved eating and I've
always
loved eating. My
father
died of insulin shock. The day they put him in the hospital his blood pressure was twenty over eighty, wanted to dose him with
insulin
, he told them “no.” They
killed
him. He, one time, had a saccharin reaction, in the fifties, when they took it, when it was in everything. He proved their case. (
Pause
.) He was the one, the cases of his type, why it's no longer
in
. . . in
sodas
. . . (
Pause
.) in
food
. . .

D:
You're saying that it was his case?

C:
Yes.

D:
In what way, you're saying he took them to court?

C:
Not in that sense, no. Cases of his type. You understand?

D:
Yes.

C:
(
Pause
.) And he overate. Those days . . . you know . . .

D:
Yes.

C:
You know how it was.
Later
we had no sugar in the house. You couldn't
find
it, for we didn't
have
it there.
Nothing
. And my mother was assiduous in cleansing it out; you remember, though, when we were young. It was in
everything
. The
cereal
. . . the
tea
. . . the
coffee
. . .
rolls
. . . you could go right through the day . . . .
Lunch
. . . (
Pause
.) My idea later of dessert was half a grapefruit, but
then
and you, too, I know. When we were young . . . the
oatmeal
. . . ? My father put sugar on
fruit
.

D:
My father, too.

C:
My father put sugar on
watermelon
.

D:
My father did, too.

C:
Looking back, he was a sick man. He was a very sick man. (
Pause
.) He must have been. All of the
effort
that he spent in balancing his diet; or, to say it on a different plane (because, finally, his diet did not admit of a balance), to achieve
rest
; he was trying to find
rest
. In himself. In food. For one moment. I think. In his life. Because of the
food
he ate. To overcome the
harm
that he had done, as I'm sure that he knew. The
milk
to overcome the sugar; the
caffeine
to overcome the cloying effect of the milk, which, I think, in the future, will be seen to be the worst. The worst of what we eat, for
all
that we say it is natural.

D:
What?

C:
Dairy.

D:
Dairy products.

C:
Yes. And
nicotine
to calm the harm that he did with caffeine. And
meat
to give him energy he needed. Not for “life.” Not for his daily “life,” but to combat the effects of the
food
. He, I saw him put butter on his
steak
. . .

D:
I've seen that, too.

C:
And
salt
. (
Pause
.) Salt on everything. Sugar and salt. We put sugar on
strawberries
. . . (
Pause
.)

D:
What about your mother? (
Pause
.)

C:
She . . . my mother . . . (
Pause
.)

D:
Yes.

C:
As a
cook
. . .

D:
Yes.

C:
How was she as a
cook
. . . ?

D:
Yes. (
Pause
.)

C:
You know she died . . .

D:
No. (
Pause
.)

C:
She . . . she . . . (
Pause
.) She was the
cook
. (
Pause
.) She, uh, (Pause.) she cooked as she was
taught
. What else could she
do
?
Nothing
. What
any
of us know? Nothing. “Eat Milk. It's Good for You!” And
alcohol
. Drink . . . ? (
Pause
.) He drank all night. That's how I was brought up. You, too. No—I won't
touch
it now.

D:
You don't touch drink?

C:
I'll tell you what else: I don't miss it. Not one bit. The hardest I think was caffeine. Aaaaaand
salt
. Well, it's in everything. I used to drink club
soda
. No. You can't drink that. It's
salt
. That's all it is. That's why they
drink
it. You
can't lie to yourself. Because if you do, your
body
will inform you. If you're lying to yourself. (
Pause
.) You see? (
Pause
.) As it starts to cleanse itself it will inform you. (
Pause
.)
Cigars
. You know me . . .

D:
Yes.

C:
Someone gave me one at
Thanksgiving
. . .

D:
Mm.

C:
An
Uppman
. I'd eaten too much. Eh? (
Pause
.) My body was
acid
, so I craved
nicotine
. And so I told myself: “Waaal, it's a
holiday
," as if it were a reward to poison my system . . . So I smoked the cigar . . . (
Pause
.) I didn't even
want
it. While I smoked it I had to remind myself that it was a reward. I woke up in the night in
sweat
. My sweat stank of cigars. The
sheets
stank. When I washed them they still smelled. Your body's a machine. As trite as it is, it is true. If you don't change it today when are you going to change it? (
Pause
.)
Never
. He died as he wouldn't change. He knew more than they knew. They killed him anyway.
Why
? Because he was helpless. Because he was
ill
. Then he was at their mercy. And, I want to tell you, any time that that occurs your opponents will harm you. That's the nature of the world. Not
me.
Not
me.
My body is my friend. It does not want to do me ill. It does not want to be diseased. It is my friend.
(Pause.)
It is not my enemy. It killed my father. It will not kill
me.
It killed my
brother
—it will not kill
me.
It has killed
many.
will not kill
me.
It is my
friend.
My body is my
friend.

Columbus Avenue

Columbus Avenue
was first published in the
Village Voice
on September 10, 1980.

I felt the cold steel of a gun against my head three times.

Twenty-six years we have been here. A tailor fourteen years before that here. Fifty-one years.

And he's an Orthodox Jew, and his father said (when he was managing: when first we settled on a price; and, you know, we
negotiated
. . . but when we were done he told me): “I will never throw you out.”

The boy, he said, “Before I do a thing we'll talk.” Today I get his letter in the mail. And I go there. I say, “You said that we were going to talk.” He said, “I thought instead of talking I'd send you a letter.”

So what am I going to do? Where am I going to go?

My customers are going to follow me? Can I ask them to walk for twenty blocks?

If even he gave me a
ten
-year lease, at least then I could sell the business.

So I said
double
the rent.
Triple
the rent, I told him.

He has got a
guy
is going to pay two thousand a month, he says.
And
he's going to put in fifty-thousand dollars restoration.

I told him, “How is he going to make the
rent
?"

He said, “He'll break his back. He'll break his back the first year,” (he didn't say “back") “and, after that, he
fails
, I've got his fifty thousand he put in my building, and I rent the place again.”

It's like that the whole street: Things you don't want at what you can't afford, and nothing that you need.

No services.

Where am I going to go?

If I was twenty, if I was even ten years
younger
. . .

Where am I going to go? I got to move the
press
, I got to move the
racks
; by the time I put
in
I put in all my savings to the
business
to go somewhere else and I have nothing. And I have to start again. Twenty-six years.

I told him, “I hate to remind you what your
father
said.”

He shrugged.

My
wife
went. I was getting sick. He said he'd give us an extension for six months.

It's the same all the neighborhood.

Let the depression come, and see who pays the rent.

Twenty-six years I've been here, and there are no more services on this street anymore.

What will people do I don't know what he thinks.

I don't know.

I don't know what I can say.

Steve McQueen

A monologue
.
The speaker is a man in his mid-to-late thirties
.

. . . well,
I'm
from Hawaii—I met him when he was at the Kalona Mar, he was there two months.

He wasn't well. You know. We'd
talk
. . . we got to talking motorcycles. He asked if he could borrow my bike, I said of course. He got to taking it out every day. He was registered there as “McGuire.” He was keeping a low profile, you know? But after a week or two, you know, I think that he was lonely. I'd see him around the pool. He must have seen me one morning coming to work on my bike, because he asked me about it: How was it
riding
, something; and we started talking about bikes. He had at that time over one hundred bikes in his collection . . . I don't know where they were . . . in the States.

You know,
The Great Escape . . .
? He did those stunts himself. You know where he jumps the barb wire? He did that himself—though it wasn't barb wire.

He found out that I was into martial arts and we took to sparring. He was in great shape—even though his disease—he was strong as a horse at that time. A fifty-sixty-minute workout was nothing to him. I'll tell you something else is he would drink a case of beer a day. Twenty-four beers a day. Lowenbrau. I know because I used to bring them to him. And smoke like a chimney. I guess he was just one of those men who are blessed with a completely perfect constitution. Though he was in great pain. I know that he was.

Indians
. . .
Harleys
. . .
Nortons
. . . he had all of them. Did you know on the old
Indian
the oil used to go through the frame? It flowed through the frame.

You know the stunt on
The Great Escape
where they get the bike? The German motorcycle rider's coming down the road, they stretch a wire . . . ? They had the greatest motorcycle rider in the world . . .
Rusty
, something . . .
Rusty
. . . they told him “Just drive down the road.” They told him, “Be ready for anything.” That's why it's so authentic. He runs into that wire . . . ? He didn't know it was there. They did it in one take. (
Pause
.)

I met his son. (
Pause
.) At that time he was training as a flight instructor. I stayed at his house in Malibu. Three days.

Yes

Two men:
A
and
B.

A:
People don't know when they're well-off.

B:
Now that's for sure.

A:
That's for
goddamned
. . . what did you say? It
is
for sure. It's for god
-damned
sure. I swear to Christ. I swear on the grave of my mother, may she roast in peace . . .

B:
What did you say? “May she roast in peace"?

A:
Did I say what?

B:
You said your mother.

A:
Yes?

B:
May she . . . (
Pause
.)

A:
May she what? (
Pause
.)

B:
She's dead, right?

A:
Is she dead?

B:
Is she?

A:
Is that what you're asking me? (
Pause
.) Is my mother dead?

B:
Am I asking you that?

A:
Are you?

B:
Well, is she dead? I
assume
that . . . she's
dead
, right?

A:
(
Pause
.) Yes. (
Pause
.)
Yes
. She
is
.

B:
(
Pause
.) I, um . . .

A:
You're “sorry"?

B:
I am sor . . . of, yes, of, ab . . . did she . . . of
course
I'm . . . did she . . .

A:
Did she die recently?

B:
Yes.

A:
Recently? Peaceably . . . ? I don't mean “peaceably,” I mean
peacefully
. . . peacefully. Yes. Recently. Yes . . . . I suppose they're the same thing. No . . . of course . . . of
course
they're not. They're not the . . .
yes
. She's
dead
. She's absolutely
dead
. How's
your
mom? Fine, I hope.

B:
She's dead.

A:
How about that?

B:
I'm not glad that she's dead.

A:
Well, that makes you a loyal
son
,
doesn't
it?

B:
I liked her.

A:
I'm very sure you did. That's “fine.” That's truly “fine” of you. What was I saying? (
Pause
.) What was I speaking of, if I may?

B:
You mentioned your mother.

A:
Yes. I did. I said . . . what did I say? People are not well-off.

B:
You said:

A:
I spoke about my mother.
Thank
you.

B:
. . . something . . .

A:
. . . that's correct . . .

B:
“My mother . . . “

A:
“may she rest in hell” ra . . . ra . . . rrrra . . . raaa . . . rrrr . . . “may she . . . “ “may she
rot
in hell” “may she . . . “ (
Pause
.) What's the phrase? MAY SHE REST IN PEACE! What's the phrase?

B:
May she rest in peace.

A:
What's the phrase? (
Pause
.) What's the phrase for that? (
Pause
.)

B:
That's it.

A:
That's it?

B:
Yes. (
Pause
.)

A:
There's another one.

B:
There is?

A:
What is it?

B:
I don't know.

A:
. . . the
phrase
for it . . .
you
know what I . . . (
Pause
.) I must be a deeply troubled man. (
Pause
.) So many things accept me.

B:
What are they?

A:
I mean “
accept
" me.

B:
What did you say? (
Pause
.)

A:
I said . . . (
Pause
.)

B:
You said that you must be . . .

A:
. . . I said that things
accept
me.

B:
What did you . . . ?

A:
I . . .

B:
. . . you said . . . (
Pause
.)

A:
. . . I . . . (
Pause
.) . . . I . . . (
Pause
.) . . . I . . .