hello out there

i ran into silberg again today. he told me to watch where i was going. he then broke into song. he was eventually arrested for armed robbery. he went to jail for stealing stormy weather from sinatra's "no one cares" album. "i suppose i will have to face the music" he uttered after sentence was pronounced. sentence was pronounced with a spanish accent by the judge, who was eventually carried away and sent to a clinic. i visited silberg in his cell. some of his words follow.

silberg is serving a run on sentence. a female friend of his has a period, but silberg's sentence doesn't. he thought the sentence was unfair. silberg is in a crowded jail. when i got there, he was singing "don't fence me in." it was a cole day. after a pleasant conversation with a porter, i bobbed my head in. i was wearing a weave. silberg saw me, and immediately made light of his sentence. "hair today, gone tomorrow, tom" he bellowed. saul told him to cool it down. i showed him the new edition of the new york times, which had an in depth article on chad, his favorite country.

gradually, we began to discuss the important issues of our time. "no, i don't think nick lachey should be killed, but he is worthy of some punishment" silberg began. silberg complained that the prison library did not have an impressive selection of detective fiction. he also felt that the rather slim collection of italian neo-realist films housed at the prison reflected negatively on the institution. he did admit that he was getting "his three squares a day," but wondered out loud if he might not be able to sample some other shapes at some point. "i could really go for a grilled hexagon right about now" he said to me while listening to the steve lawrence album i had smuggled into him. "that soul brother sure had chops" he stated.

silberg said he had been treated pretty well in jail, "besides the rape and obligatory brutalization of my mind, soul, and body that is inherent in total institutions within neo-fascist north america." silberg was contemplating becoming a black muslim, but when he last attempted to go to one of their meetings, they spoke of him as a "blue eyed devil." in his defense, he argued that his eyes were brown, but they were not receptive. they said "your jewish; you have enough money to start your own group." he tried to start a jewish muslim group, but he didn't have enough money to get it off the ground. however, since he was already on the ground, he didn't have to get it off the ground. his money soon ran out though. he tried to run after his money, be he couldn't catch up to it. when last he heard, 43 of his dollars were living happily in bolivia.

silberg attempted to start a revolt within the prison walls, but once he got into the walls, he found it hard to get back to the rest of the prison. once he got back to the prison, he tried to get the prisoners riled up. his list of demands were impressive.

he asked that the library carry "eric dolphy; the complete prestige recordings." he asked that for every prisoner raped, a prison guard, judge, or jury member be raped, under the assumption that the rates of rape in prison would therefore rapidly decline. he demanded that hebrew-english dictionaries be made available to the thousands of hasidic jews being persecuted in our jails. he demanded that all prison food be organic, and the chicken free range.

he is still waiting for a reply.

eventually, our time was up. i told him i would do all i could for him, but that after working all day, listening to jazz, reading, and paying bills, this would probably not be too much. he told me he "understood," and that he should have stood higher. i told him this would have put him out of my hearing range. he told me i was even cornier than he was. we laughed, then we cried, then suddenly, love died. the story ends, and we're just friends.

we are all behind bars now, except those of us behind night clubs.

farewell.