Rabbi Part II

Well, I've reconsidered. I'm not really sure asking the rabbi for advice is really the best thing to do. See, ever since my mum died, I haven't really been a model Jew. I haven't been going to the synagogue or stuff like that and afterall, the rabbi thinks I'm gay. I'd like to think he thinks that because my mum told him that I was gay way, way back when I was 17, but it probably has more to do with the fact that he saw me leaving a gay bar about ten years ago.

It went down like this: I was trying to find a place to park downtown late on a Sunday night. I found a place, but I didn't have change for the meter. The only place open that was close by was a leather bar. I figured the coat check attendant would be able to make change. I walked in, and held out a fiver and asked for some ones and quarters for the meter. The twink behind the counter said he didn't make change and pointed to a handmade sign next to the coat check window. I said, "Okay, gimme three back and keep the change. Knock yourself out."

I grabbed the change and spun on my heel. I walk back out in the street just as Rabbi Rennebaum is driving past in his black Lincoln. And who should be riding in the passenger seat staring, jaw dropped and pointing vaguely in my direction? Rabbi Weinstein. I'm not really sure what led him to think that I was gay. It might have been the infamous leather jacket that I gave away and is making rounds in Jakarta at this very moment, but I rather think it was the neon marquee flashing PUMPHOUSE. To be honest, if I were in his shoes I probably would have reached the same conclusion as Rabbi Weinstein. I just took a deep breath and defeatedly fed the meter as Domino Dancing blasted into the warm night.

I went over it again and again in my head. Maybe he wasn't pointing at me. Maybe he was pointing out a parking spot for the Lincoln. Come to think of it, maybe he was pointing at Aaron Rosen. He was there sitting at the open windowfront with some friends. I doubt he recognized Aaron though. He wasn't wearing his yarmulke which is the fashion the rabbi normally saw him, but it probably had more to do with the fact that Rosen was shirtless and wearing two stainless steel very painful-looking nipple rings. Clever disguise. He had to be pointing at me, but the rabbi never asked to find out what I was doing there. You don't ask, you don't get a perfectly reasonable explanation. I don't exactly remember what I was doing in that neighbourhood that night, its all been washed over by a series of very unfortunate coincidences.

So not being a regular visitor to the synagogue, I figure Rabbi Weinstein might be loathe to give me advice, and I've been doing fine on my own so I'm not so sure I want to ask him anyway. I might even do Christmas with my dad this year. He's not Jewish, most of my family isn't. Christmas with my dad is quite the surreal experience. Just when you think he can't possibly be more of a pig or jerk or asshole or whatever, he proves you wrong. He called and invited me to Christmas this year, and despite the potential of once again spending Boxing Day on the ward with food poisoning, I accepted. I asked if I could bring someone, hoping in vain that it might temper his behaviour on the day. He said yes, and didn't follow it up with a zillion questions. Super. Only now I've got to find someone who'll accept the invitation. Yumi's gone home, and she's a shy vegetarian anyway. Next choice is Mika. The only problem is that Mika only knows me as "Venti Dark guy with a really sexy Jeep." I'll have to somehow find a way to get her to take me seriously and ease her into the Christmas invitation over the next 18 days. If she says no, there's always Miki (Miki and Mika are not the same person, they have different names. One ends with an i and the other with an a. I know, I have a hard time keeping track too), but I feel guilty about asking her because she's my buddy's roommate. He's had plenty of opportunity, but I'll cut his grass if he won't.

For the record, I have been watching movies but not in the theatre. I saw a really good Cantonese one on the weekend with Sammi Cheung, and she wasn't wearing a fat suit. The TV reception was not too great that night, so I kinda want to rent it and watch it again. It was called Fighting for Love and it was pretty good. Maybe its just that I've been watching crap HK films lately, but this one is worth watching twice.