Chemistry

Chemistry
.
I was at the Institute of Complimentary Medicine, nearing the end of my
2nd year, when out of the blue, as occasionally happens, I struck a
date. With a girl.
She was a bleached blond, with cheeky breasts and well founded rumor
had her out to be a woman of easy leisure and pleasure. She was a bit
loud but hey ,as my doctor says, if that's the price to pay..
She lived near the airport, and told me that she's coming over to a
friend of her's in Florentine; that semi-trendy, South Tel-Aviv
neighboorhood, where rich kids go to much pains to slum it up with
hopeless junkies, broken families and whatever shade of grey lies
between 'em.
"Do you mind if I bring a friend", the matchmaker in me jumped
out.
"No, that's cool, what's he do?"
"Mostly drugs, but when muse strikes him he's a medical student"
"Right on, shall we make it 8 ish?"
I could see her pupils dilate; She probably likes Robert Downey jr. and
Hugh Grant.

I go home, thinking that some intimacy for the weekend would be just
fine.
I don't really know her, I just know of her, I just hope she doesn't
talk too much, b/c from what I had managed to overhear through the
clouds of smoke of our breaks it's always full of name dropping and the
kind of talk that goes with it.
I feel a welcomed warmness in my groin spread as I drive home on my
Vespa.

"Can I speak to Y the chemist?", I ask, already knowing that it is he
who has answered the phone.
I once said that line as his dad picked up the phone, and Y had to deal
with the inevitable question his parents posed "Why does D call you the
chemist?"
His parents knew that their kid didn't exactly excell in chemistry back
in school, and now in Med. School he constantly needs private tutoring
in chemistry among many other subjects.
"Your guess is as good as mine", he cryptically answered at the
time.
Parents denial can go a long way.
"Speaking, what can we do for you today?", he says in his $6.85/hour
voice.
"I need a few ingredients, for mood alterations, and your company for
Friday night if you're not to busy at the 'shop'",
Y didn't like leaving the shop aka his parents home unless there was a
clear, usually narcotic end. Sensing his hesitation, I told him I fixed
him with a hot date, who was expecting to be jumped by the 'Chemist'.
"You don't want to let the customer waiting, do you" I said knowing the
bait was set."Oh by the way. I think you should come with your white
lab gown"
"I didn't think otherwise"
"Great, my place at 7"

Friday came quickly, and the 'Chemist', whose trademark was punctuality
and precision, knocked at my door at exactly 7, clad in his lab gown,
and with a small briefcase in his hands.
The lab gown began about an year before, when Y was going through his
photography phase. He had come back from New York, and was deeply
influenced by Warhole, and decided to carry a camera everywhere he went
and engage in 'Real time urban documentation', as he put it.
One day he was seated at my study desk, cutting up some herb and asked
me to take a picture of him, I picked up the camera and was about to
let go when I knew what was missing for the great picture.
"Put on my white clinic robe", I briskly ordered.
He obligingly put it on, and went back to work, looking like a hip
chemist as Mark E. Smith would say.
I eternalized the image on film, and the result was quite pleasing for
all parties.

"Did you read the paper today?', I inquired rather innocently before he
had a chance to properly seat himself. Y was an avid newspaper reader,
even more than me, and that's'not the easiest task to complete.
"Bishara goes to Syria to participate at Assad's funeral", he reads my
mind and smiles as he recites the exact headline of the day.
"Fuckin' right. I cant' believe we're so stupid to let that terrorist
walk around OUR country so freely. I swear that if that fucker comes
within striking distance of my fists", I pause as I feel my ulcer
reawakening. It doesn't like to talk about Arabs.
"So what if he went, it's a free country isn't it?", he coyly
replies.
I give him a look of disbelief. His words add fuel to my ulcer, I
sometimes can't believe the extent of his indiference or blindness or
whatever it is that leads him to his convictions.
"Yeah, free doesn't necessarily mean suicidal, can't you.., jesus man
what's your problem, I think you should take a little break off the
drugs, you know, at least until you come back to your senses
He looks at me with his puppy eyes, quickly averts his eyes back to the
Bong, lights the bowl and inhales the thick smoke. The bong is an old
Evian bottle,with messy candle droppings where he tried to re-enforce
the pipe to the main body, which he squashes with the impact of his
inhalation. Sometimes I think the only reason he smokes, is the
satisfaction he derives from distorting the water bottle; He considers
himself a narcotic athlete, always pushing for a new record.
He raises his hands in submission as he always does when we engage in
conversations of a non narcotic essense.
"The problem with this country" I continue, ignoring his submission "is
people like you who just don't give a shit.You go to New York and come
back thinking that we should be living like they do, but you just don't
come to grips with the fact that we're in the Middle Fuckin' East, a
place where you simply die if you let your guard down".
I percieve the reality in which I live and all its dangers. I don't
pretend that I don't see them, or hope that they'll go away b/c I don't
fancy facing them at the moment b/c I've got more important things to
do like shagging and getting high. Aye those are important but first we
have to deal with the matters at hand.
The Arab-Israeli's have to make a decision if they're Israeli's or
Palestinians;
Unfortunately they've already made that decision when they sided with
our most bitter enemies, and now they must face the consequences. Only
a blind man can't see that the Arabs among us are just waiting for the
day they'll be in a position to give us that loving shove into the
sea's awaiting arms. This is the Jewish homeland, we treat them as
welcomed guests if they come to terms with this, but if not they must
understand that their welcomed stay has come to an end.
Y. kinda likes the fact that he has a friend he thinks is a racist,
knowing that this constant game of political ping-pong, or to be more
precise this game of ping is part of our friendship
Eventhough he's a great mate, I sometimes have the impression that deep
down he thinks that this is another one of my charades, and he's
expecting me at any given moment to cough up the truth and tell him
I've been pulling his leg all along, and that actually I'm a
liberal/socialist/environmentalist/humanitarian/&;#8230; and I've
been using this mask for pure entertainment purposes.
He can fucking well wait!
"Well, aren't you going to defend yourself, you commie bastard?"
"No , you've convinced me of my evil ways, I repent motherfucker, I
repent"
We both laugh, and I say in my newscaster voice "and now to a special
narcotic update, our narcotic analyst, Y. the chemist"
"Today we see a nice mix of Ritalin, straight from mom's private stash,
some E's from Liran the man, and herb from Herbert, Back to you D. for
the weather round-up"
"Ughm, the weather seems to be, ughm quite good, ughm that's all.
"

We get on my Vespa, and drive southbound towards Florentine.
"What street does she live on?", Y. inquires. He doesn't discriminate
between different sorts of knowledge.
Shahar's friend lives on Stern St., named after the founder of the
infamously reknowned 'Stern Gang', It's the actual street that he was
gunned down in cold blood by the Brits back in'42.
"Stern", I say with a smile.
"You should have told me, I would have stayed back at the shop"
I park the Vespa under a dimly lit streetlamp, and we get off. We both
look at this battered miracle of Italian pre-technology, this bike has
seen it all, more than 200,000 klicks and still as reliable as a Swiss
postal worker, just without the attitude.
"Don't you think we could make a great commercial for *Noblesse smokes
with this Vespa?" I say, starting to imagine the demise of the Marlboro
man myth . 'No more Harleys, with cowboys in the fuckin' desert, No, we
need Vespa's, with desperate looking delivery boyz caught in gridlock
in dowtown Tel-Aviv, who reach back into their sidebags and dig a
crumpled soft-pack of Noblesses, taking

*Noblesses are the cheapest, and worst quality cigarrettes to be found
in Israel. Mainly used by the unemployed and the Kibbutznik's

a smoke at a busy intersection, waiting for the light to change, and
then riding off to the next stop light with a cigarette dangling"
"Life Sucks-Have a Noblesse"
"All I've ever wanted to be was a "WORKIN CLASS HERO!"
Y. doesn't smoke, and if he would he sure wouldn't be smoking
Noblesses, he's not that kinda guy, he's more a Pat Riley kinda guy; he
only takes winning brands, me on the otherhand I have a weakness for
underdogs.

I knock on a big wooden door with a Peace Now sticker, Y gives a smile
reading my mind.
"The thing with Leftists, especially the ones 'round here is that after
they've already sexed up some Arab who does the dishes at the local
Sushi joint and that hasn't pissed their folks off they decide to take
it one notch up. That notch is me.'

"Hi, I'm Tally" ,she looks us over for a sec or 2 and says to Y "You
must be the Chemist", and then looks at me and continues "You must be
David, I've heard so much"
'But not too much?', I sharpely state.
I could have kissed here right there and then. I must compose myself
goddammit. I try delivering my most charming smile possible
Talli looks super, she's got short, red tinged hair combed sideways
with an eye ring above her left eye, she's wearing a tight green
T-shirt with a Pluto logo on that caresses her small but tastefull
breasts and baggy corduroys that can't prevent her curves from
showing.
I'm surprised she's friends with Shahar, but I say to myself that she
probably only knows her for a short period.
"I have a bit of work to do", Y says as he absent mindely shakes her
delightfully small hand, "Do you have a table I can work on?"
"Do excuse my associates manners, but no pleasure without work as the
saying goes"
Talli gives a cryptic smile, she doesn't know what has befallen
her.
'So, has Shahar arrived?'
'No, but she just called , she'll be here in about half an hour.', she
says with a slightly jerky movement of her head.

We walk into the living room and there is a tall girl smoking a bong
and listening to Y. as he is crouched in lab-mode over the desk and
explaining his take on the inventory.
She has had a definite head start on us , but we feel up to the
chase.
She's a shapely one she is, almost as tall as me and very curvacious,
sexy but the kind that probably digs the Marlboro Man, she's wearing a
pair of tightly fitted denim's and a pair of cowboy boots and a man's
buttoned white shirt- She's probably been sexed in the past 2 hours,
and it seems as if a pretty good job was administered. She's got that
post-orgazmic expression, but maybe she's just stoned and I'm looking
for the sexual angle.
I focus my charms on Talli, and the funny thing is that I know that
I'll feel as if Shahar will be an intrusion whenever she comes
in.
Y lifts his head momentarily from the work desk, and gives me an
appreciating nod, and says something like 'I gotta get out more"
Both the girls mush over him right from the start, he's got that
abandoned little kid charm working for him and the girls are oozing
maternal instinct.

Shahar walks in, her breasts are a treat, her nose a bit semitic to my
taste though. She's clad in tight red synthetic leather and rounded
black boots , the sort that bikers favour. Her point is fully
registered.
She walks over and pecks a kiss on my cheek, that is semi responded to
by me, and introduces herself to the Chemist.
People near the airport don't wear white lab gowns unless they're
forensics. She seems to be taken in by it.
Y, still laboring over the table acknowledges her with a quick nod."I'm
Y the Chemist"
"I'm sure you are',she slyly answers back.
I feel like taking a kitchen knife and cutting this sexual tension,
it's killing me.
"I'm going out to get some smokes, anybody need anything?"
"Yeah, I need some too', Talli says 'I'll come along'
We walk out of the building, and I feel like confessing my love as soon
as we close the door on the rest. I have so much to tell her, I want to
tell her about my childhood, my parents, my dog, my friends, my
beliefs, yet nothing seems appropriate. I'm thinking hard for a
suitable tale but my mind goes numb.
"You're beauty stuns me 'I utter breathlessly. When in doubt speak your
piece.
'I don't mean just regular beauty,you know, you've got an inner warmth
that made me say that"
'I'm flattered, thanks, you're awfully cute", she says, and ruffles my
hair.
I hate my hair being ruffled, it reminds me that I'm a kid in the midst
of a woman, but her touch kindles my inner fire, and my shyness seems
to have gone down a wee notch .
We reach the kiosk, 2 burly Maroccans are engaged in a game of
Shesh-Besh, and they seem annoyed to have to take leave from their game
but the younger one gets up and gives us 2 red Marlboros.
'I always like a girl who smokes Red, it shows true character, none of
that lights shit, this is the real deal. Girls who smoke lights are the
kind of girls who return their drinks because the waiter forgot to put
a fuckin' umbrella in their drink;that's a fact"
'Ain't that the truth', she agrees
'Yes that definitely constitues the truth, young lady', I say in my
headmaster voice.
She smiles heartily, and I almost kiss her there under the dimly lit
corner lamppost, but I resist the temptation. Hastiness is prepared in
the devil's workshop.
'You want to go smoke a little one before we go up?', she asks in what
may be the first manifestation of tentativeness,a crack in her
self-assurance.
'Is the pope catholic?'
'Is he?, but I'll take that as a yes'
We walk over to the park, past the alleys of carpenters and sweatshops
and sit on a bench watching over the basketball courts.

Shak is playing with some little kids. Shak is weird, he's only 16,
really fat, and wears Shak's outfit, the #34 LA Lakers, 365 days a
year, and some years even 366. He usually comes down on Fridays and
watches us play. He's got some hip-hop ensemble strung together and he
talks about life in the ghetto. I don't know what he's on about because
I know he's parents are really well off. Maybe he's talking about his
friends from Jaffa.
"Hey Shak, finally find some competition?"
Hey D, Yo who'se you're new bitch?"
"Show some respect, Shak, maybe that way you'll meet some nice girl
once"
'Yeah I should try dat sometimes', 'Hey you got a bit more herb on
ya?'
Talli looks amused at the fact that I'm having a conversation with
Shak, she seems to be in for some surprises about me and the people I
know.
She nods towards Shak, and offers him a few drags.
Shak is also in awe of Talli, and slowly approaches and takes a
bit.
'Cool man, thanks, I'll leave you 2 lovebirds to your own devices, take
care bro'
'Take care, see you around'
'Wow, what was that?', she smiles ever so gently.
'That, Talli, is Shak, better remember that name. Would you believe
that he wears that outfit all year?'
'No way'
'I swear on the little honor I have left in me'
I bend over and gently kiss her full on the mouth; it's reciprocated. I
retreat as gently as I attacked.
"Sometimes you have to let your heart do it's thing', I say as I look
her straight over.
'C'mon we got to get back'
I quickly get up, give her my hand, she puts her arm in mine and we
return to her place. As we climb the stairs our arms come
untangled.

We walk in and the house is filled with a texturous, sweet smoke.Y is
seated on a big pillow, Shahar's arms seem to be demonstrating what she
picked up in Shiatsu in the previous week, her hands nimbly work the
Chemist's scapulae, and his expression has become as dazed as a Labor
politician on opium.
Shahar seems to be suitingly Mdma'd, and she's got enough love in her
to support a third world country.
Y is enjoying himself, I'm enjoying myself, Shahar is enjoying herself,
and Talli is too.The Marlboro girl is cleaning the kitchen but I would
say she's enjoying herself too.

"It's time for your physical', Y says as he abruptly gets up.'Open your
mouth' I obediently comply, stick out my tongue, and Y. sticks a
Mitsubishi on my tongue.
'One of these a day, and your doctor will stay away'
Y looks at Talli and says in his 2nd year voice "And what seems to be
ailing you, young lady'. Talli just smiles.'Now, now don't be shy, open
your mouth, let's have a look'
She obediently does as she's told, Y digs in his pocket and retrieves
another Mitsubishi
And gently lays it on her anticipating and slightly quivering
tongue.

Talli goes in the kitchen, puts the kettle on, and comes out with some
jasmin tea.
'So what are we doing tonight', Y asks no one in particular.
'We can go to the 'Dinamo', Mark Allen is playing tonight', I
tentatively put in, kinda of wanting to go.
"We could stay here, Y the chemist is playing' Y says trying without
much success to imitate my voice.
I look at Talli, I feel that she wants to go out, especially that the
pill is starting to kick in; frankly I got to get out of the house. In
the meantime, I'm smoking a red on her small balcony, sucking the fresh
air as greedily as a landlord. Indecision under narcotics has become my
trademark of late. Oh well I'll let them make up their mind.
Talli comes onto the balcony and holds my hand, and gives me a
kiss.'What do you want to do?
"I know we were supposed to go out as a group, but I really want to be
with you tonight'
"So do I, but let's go out', she says as she is caressing my arm in
warm angular motions.
All the warmth off the pill is focused on my groin area, and I push
into her gently and sensually to let her know how I feel.
She gives a naughty little tug on my enamoured member and pulls me back
into the living room.
'People, we're going to the Dinamo now', Talli announces.
Shahar and Y get up and join us. The Marlboro girl stays put in the
kitchen, she's definitely dancing to her own tunes, which is completely
fine by me.

I must be in love. Otherwise there's no other explanation to the fact
that I barely notice the girl at the entrance of the Dinamo. Week after
week she stuns me with her beauty, sitting on a stool, with a cowboy
hat and deep blue raver glasses. She's been the object of some of my
best wanks, but today my heart is steady as I give her my feeble weekly
grin.
She smiles back, a hearty smile, the kind that girls give you when
you're in the company of competing tasty flesh.
Y is being carefully observed, his eyes wild in ecstasy, and his white
lab gown generally appreciated by a crowd who is hungry for
innovation.
Y is getting nods of approval from Mark Allen himself, who has seen it
all but this is too much, a man who bravely marches his chemical
preferences so bravely and proudly.
Y, feeling encouraged, gets up on stage, a few feet from Allen and
starts to guide the people on the dance floor with robotic movements,
hands guiding imaginary pills into a smiling mouth, hands gesting to be
embraced in a sea of love, hands reaching to the ceiling, while the
Techno beats make the crowd stomp in unison.
Talli is skipping, and it seems she is jumping on air, my eyes dash
from her to Y, both putting on a show, and I find myself so happy that
I have to sit in the corner and caress my mineral water bottle, let the
cool water play tricks on my throat.

I see Boz come in, with a tall Yemenite girl. He's part Yemenite, tall
and dark and he's dressed in an Armani suit. I know him from school,
he's big into suites and especially a big fan of himself. We haven't
been formally introduced. I feel that he constantly is studying me
over, and he gives out strong signals of Bisexuality.That is definitely
not my cup of tea, but I find him somewhat intriguing as a human, with
his exssesively strong laughter, and a double shot of self confidence
yet lack of arrogance.
I know he serviced Shahar in a sexual manner a couple of months ago. I
strangely try to envision this spectacle in my mind; not really the
physical act, but the caresses and the soft words after the coming,
after the second coming, maybe a 3rd coming? Yemenites are the Jewish
equivalent of blacks, the Black Jews known for their strength and
libido.
Shahar doesn't seem to be able to be satisfied with an average effort,
no she needs extra helpings.It's funny how I was preparing to shag her
this evening, but the cards have changed, I've drawn a much more
powerful hand, and if I play them right&;#8230;
'Hi, David, I hear you're going out with Shahar tonight, cool', he says
and shows me a Colgate smile. He takes a Marlboro light out of his
jacket pocket, offers me one. I retort with a red one from my shirt
pocket, in my imagination creating an advantage for myself in the
department of masculinity.
'Did you read about Bishara going to Syria?
I look at him as if he punched me in the gut, but he's just flashing me
his money smile.
'Yeah I read about that fucker'
'That man needs some good knee therapy', he says , still smiling
obviously in reference to the knee therapy seminar we attended last
week but letting me know that he meant some alternative therapy.
'Yeah he does , but what would you say the prognosis is?"
"Prognosis eh? For us or for him?'
'Right, anyway since when are you one of the activists?' I say with
much surprise. He never struck me as the politico.
'Most people are surprised, but they shouldn't be, after all I'm
Yesha's grandson,'
'No fucking way, you're pulling my leg'
'For real, man, if you don't believe me you can come over tomorrow and
meet the man himself.
I smile, everybody knows who Israel Yesha is, one of the chief
idealogues of the Revivalist movement, one of the leaders of the Stern
Gang who assumed control after Yair was shot in cold blood in 1942 by
the Brits.
'Yeah I'ld like that'
'Is that Chemist a friend of yours?', he says raising his eyes to the
stage where Y seems to be in control of things now giving imaginary
pills to a group of 4-5 girls who have gone robotic.
Yeah'
I thought Shahar was with you tonight
Na, she's into the Chemist tonight', and as I say that Talli comes over
and puts her arm around my waist, I peck a kiss on her neck.
'Hey Boz, what're you doing here?', and she gives him a skirting kiss
on the lips. He gives her a bear hug and picks her up from her
feet.
I hadn't known that they were aquainted, I should have guessed, after
all she's friends with Shahar.
Jealousy seems to be crawling into a vacuum in my heart; I mustn't show
it because I'm sure Talli won't dig that. Boz seems to poccess a
certain intuition, and it's freaking me out, I feel like an open book.
I'm pretty sure Talli hasn't noticed me tightening up, but if this goes
on she's sure to notice.
Boz remembers to introduce his girlfriend who has been standing along
the wall. She has spaniel eyes and eventhough she is quite striking,
makes it quite evident that she's lacking in the confidence
department.
Her name is Miki, I somehow think that her real name is something else,
I wonder if Boz gave her a new name, like those Hare Krishnas who turn
Gail's and Jill's into Suneel's and Razpamfour's. Boz definitely has a
certain quality of a sect leader, charismatic &; convincing but
feeding off basic weaknesses. He's always surorunded by people who
admire and worship, not equal friends who share moments of top and
bottom, but constant master &; servant without any switching role
play.
Everytime Miki wants to say something her eyes dart to Boz, seeking an
approval.
'Boz, I don't feel that well, I want to go home'
Did she take anything', I inquire.
'No, she's just feeling a bit jealous', he says as if she's not
there.
'Of what?'
'You know, this and that', he says looking at Talli.
I give him a smile, and cockily say 'Not without a reason'
He flashes another Colgate, pats me on my shoulders and goes to the bar
with Miki.

I turn to Talli and ask her what she thinks of Boz.
'Oh you know, we fucked a couple of times, he's a real nice guy but you
can't let him try to dominate you, and g-d knows he tries hard enough,
oh yeah and you don't want to get into politics with him he's a fascist
but of the sweeter variety.
'Oh really, a fascist you say', I act surprised. Fascism is a word that
is too easily spread; like genius. It should be used only on special
occasions, not for every instance that you disagree with someone.
People think that because I like girls, drugs and good beats I
automatically keep a Shimon Peres picture in my wallet. I actually do;
with a hole in his head.

Y comes off the stage, he's sweating like a fat politician taking a
polygraph test, but he seems very happy. I offer him a drink of my
mineral water.
'I'm going to fuckin' burst' he says as he sits down and his foot can't
stop tapping but his face looks like his parents just gave him milk n'
cookies for bringing an ace report card.
'Havin' a good time, I assume'
'Oh yeah , the best man', he gets up gives me a hug and goes back on
the stage and resumes his moves.

Boz comes back from the bar, after a while and jots down his number and
address and hands it to me.
'The festival has come to an end for us, but I'll be seeing you
tomorrow'

Talli comes over and asks me if I want to go back and get a head start
on Y and S.
'Is the pope catholic?'
'Whatever', she says and takes my hand as we move towards the door.