Andrew J. Lederer

Happy New Year! I think '67's gonna be a good one. Get ready for the "Autumn of Love". (That's 5767, by the way.)

The cute, little, Australian lawyer girl had, at our first meeting , reminded me that the Jewish New Year would soon be upon us. I thought she said it was gonna start on 25 Sept. (it varies 'cause Judaism uses a lunar calendar), but I learned a couple of days ago that it was to start tonight.

This worried me 'cause the CULAL (cute, little, Australian lawyer) had said she was going to have a first night dinner with friends and that she would keep me apprised of details. But none had been forthcoming. In fact, I had heard not a peep.

Now, I would have happily let the holiday pass over (oh, yeah -- that's a different holiday) without being too disturbed but the CULAL had placed in my head the idea of celebrating -- in a different country from my own, with other Jews from still another country -- a tradition going back thousands of years, which I'd loved since I was a kid.

New friends. New land. New year. Cool.

So, now I wanted it bad. But as I said, I had heard nothing with only two days left to go and though I had intended to get in touch with the CULAL for a while, I didn't want to seem too enthusiastic lest I frighten her, so -- of course -- I had not contacted her since some insecure exchanges after our first meeting.

Actually, I can only say with assuredness that I was insecure -- I have no idea what she was feeling. However, I suspect she was simply looking for fun and thought that I was fun and that involving me in her friends' holiday dinner would be fun but that after I left the group abruptly on the night that we met, then inexplicably apologized the next morning for not saying goodbye (which I'm not even sure was true), then had a weird exchange where she told me my e-mails seemed cold, then responded with a too-revealing explanation of my enthusiasm for her, I was probably seeming somewhat less fun.

Regardless, I now had not just an excuse to reach out, it pretty much had to be done immediately or opportunities would be lost, so I e-mailed and texted (no, I don't wear a belt and suspenders, er, sorry -- braces) an invitation to have a drink on Wednesday, which she accepted.

We ended up eating at Wagamama and talking -- as I wolfed down my food, uncertain whether she heard the three or four successive burps that resulted -- about our differing levels of enthusiasm for substance (ab)use. I mentioned that cocaine, which I haven't used in years (I actually said -- oh my God -- "taken", as in "to take cocaine" -- it's like I wanted to sound as clueless as I possibly could), did not make me feel like the king of the world as it apparently did her. Then when she left, I hugged her insecurely and too tightly (as I had at the beginning of the encounter). At the Leicester Square tube station, I was silent for a moment after she suggested I'd be here long enough for us to get together again, as I wondered if she was going to mention the holiday dinner.

She didn't.

Meanwhile, yesterday, I got a call asking if I wanted to do a gig in Palmers Green tonight. Well, I would have been happy about that if not for the fact that I've now been sensitized to the fact that I'm missing out on the holiday celebration (not to mention the fact that I'll be working on one of the holiest days of the year). But -- what the fuck -- was I gonna mope? (Yes, but...) I took the gig.

Still, I wanted to be invited to the Rosh Hashanah dinner. I wanted to have fun. I wanted to belong. (Maybe I should have offered to bring some kosher cocaine.) And I thought maybe I could juggle the dinner and the gig. So, this morning, I sent CULAL a text saying I hadn't realized the holiday was tonight and was she still having the dinner.

She sent back a text saying the dinner was at a friend's house, so she couldn't bring anyone along. But I don't remember her saying it was definitely gonna be at her place -- just that something was in the works and she would keep me apprised, however it was worked out.

The last sentence of her text was something like, "I hope you find a way to celebrate."

Well, that not only hurt me -- it made me mad.

Yeah, okay, you're not sure about me now and you don't know whether you wanna mix me with your friends. But this is a traditional, religious holiday and you don't leave people out for that reason -- you go out of your way to include them in.

You hope I find a way to celebrate? Well, you're in a position to do something about that and you didn't.

Fuck you. Happy New Year.

(I reserve the right to moderate my tone and act as if I didn't react this way if I learn circumstances were not as I perceived them to be or if I simply decide to feel differently about the CULAL and/or the situation.)

In other news, I did the King's Head again last night. I've been trying things every Thursday, lately, and it was lower energy than last week but I managed to generate some good lines -- and actually usable ones, not beholden to the moment.

A female comedian friend came and got Peter to give her some time (she did great), then stayed for me, which I appreciated. There was a girl in the audience with whom my friend had once hung out after a show, not realizing the audience girl had intended it to be a date. (My friend is not gay.) Well, the AG (audience girl) didn't look that lesbian, so after the show, I talked with her and gave her my card.

Do you think she'll call?

Well, while I wait, I'll do Palmers Green and maybe Sunday, I'll wander around town and try to find a synagogue where I can hear them blow the shofar. (No not the chauffeur. You're disgusting.)

_________________
www.myspace.com/anthologypage