Peter Geiberger, once one of our most promising young troublemakers, artists and social misfits, a creature of great natural intelligence, charm and wit, a musician, visual artist, writer and prankster, died on Wednesday.
I regret that was not able, when I had more influence over him than most, to convince him that dabbling in heroin was stupid. Of course the drug became huge in his life, stole many of his friendships, his time and imagination, and eventually killed him. He dies owing me $50 and a lobster dinner, and the life he ought to have lived instead of the one he did.
I will remember the brilliant 17-year-old with the pre-Raphaelite features who dazzled the tired old Cacophony Society when he began attending events nearly a decade ago, his fearless ability to grab a guitar or some hideous prop and make himself the center of attention, how sympathetic a listener he was when needed despite his snarky ways, how happy he was when drawing, and his essential sweetness.
I will also remember the memorial service I helped organize after Peter’s death was faked on Hallowe’en 2000, as part of the conclusion of the grand Cacophony Society prank. It is all quite surreal, but at least Peter had that rare opportunity to attend (or at least hear about) his own funeral, and receive many posthumous accolaydes from people who loved him.
Goodbye, dear Peter, always in so much pain, now free of that at least.
~
Postscript: I have put Peter’s two delightful features for Scram online: his advice for How to be a Badass (which explains his entire personality) and his history of the black velvet painting tourist market. Around this time (1999) he published his own little zine, Scrum, as well.
i found this post while searching for references to peter on google.
i was a friend of peter’s when i was a boy, but we hadn’t spoken since i graduated from high school. my father called me yesterday and told me he had died.
i never knew the creative, confident peter you describe here, and reading your blog makes me deeply regret having fallen out of touch with him. it sounds like he grew into an impressive person and lived an unapologetic life.
the peter i knew was a very smart boy. i remember his mercurial sense of humor: impish one moment and black the next. once, he drew a picture of a slice of pizza and labeled it “your face,” then made an accompanying drawing of my face, subtitled “a slice of pepperoni pizza.” yeah, i had acne. that was peter.
we went to every comic book convention together, and he and his dad got me an autographed copy of geoff darrow’s “hard boiled” once, which became one of my most prized posessions.
that’s about all i remember about peter. i didn’t mean to ramble. his father is a wonderful man, and i hope that peter’s family is able to get through this okay. this is all really a terrible shame.
thanks for giving peter such a good sendoff. it makes me feel much better to know he refused to live a quiet life.
None of us will ever forget him. Shortly after we first met in late May (at my job) He drew me a picture of ms.pacman chasing a ghost and then wrote. “kate” under ms.pacman, and “peter” under the ghost – and also on it was his phone number. Yeh, I fell for it. 😉 He also texted me, after the first time we hung out together: “I wonder which one of us is setting themselves up for a bigger fall by liking eachother.” Hearing about his death is like jumping from the Eiffel-fucking-Tower. Quite a fall.
Peter was clean from herion when I met him. We were together for a few weeks and then he started using herion again. I am clean and sober so I nagged him, of course, to stop using. We lost touch after he called me on July 30th to let me know he was going to rehab. He called me again on Sept. 8th at 8:30 am and left a message. “I just flew in from jail and boy are my arms tired.” Of course I felt sheepish for calling him back but I did…and he didn’t pick up. He never called me back, (for reasons now obvious.) I just heard about it today. Never once did I regret getting so close to him and I still don’t. He’s one of the most endearing people I’ve ever met. Like you said, his wit, charm, and intelligence were his redeeming qualities…and they were more than redeeming. Hope he’s feeling better now.