Joy Luck

'So, How is your love life?' asks my cousin, her eyes lighting up for the first time tonight.
'Um, I don't know, a bit sedate? I haven't really been in a relationship since high school.'
I don't recall if she asks why, but I offer a bunch of excues anyway even subtely attempting to jazz it up in places. I still don't know why.

I push my knife through a soft pile of cold eggplant.

Her eyes glaze over again so I counter-turn to look to my right shoulder and then back at her again. Outside the window KTV hostesses are amassing on the street, trying to redirect the traffic.

A lady one seat away takes a sudden interest in me and we chat a little about art and the agency and her daughter's husband, who sails and graduated from St.Martins. 'I Always thought exhibits hug on walls, so I was a bit shock when I came late and they told me I'd missed it.' I'd like him I'm told - Charles - I don't have any friends called Charles, or Charlie. The only Charles I still remeber was a big oaf who had sex very loudly in share house, and then asked my timid friend David if he'd gotten a boner listening to them.

Paul is sitting on my left and between us (Charle's mother inlaw and myself). He works at a bank and really doesn't want to be here (dinner) , or there (banking) - He'd really like to be in alternative energy. 'like how George Bush was talking about turning grass into ethenol?', yes he shrugs kind of like that I guess, 'they use corn'. Anyway, thats what he'd do if he wasn't in banking. I have no idea what I'd do, maybe I'd try acid.

On the wall is a very realistic painting of a levatating girl sitting crosslegged in pink cowboy boots, fishnets, a matching pink bikini top, hostered revolver with a Om above her sombrero written on clouds.

"I really like that painting on the wall", I say trying to make up for loosing the prior conversation. 'Yes, it is quite nice isn't it? what school would you say it is?'
"I don't know? School?"
"Yeah, you know like cubist, expressionist, surreal.. is it surreal or surrealist?"
"I guess it kind of looks like a painting I once saw in a movie, it's definitely ...very um postmodern... is that a penis in her panties?"

Nobody turns to look.