Window Shopping with Kuan Yin

Today, I went to the Bull Ring with Kuan Yin, it was her first time. She descended from a cloud that hovered above our meeting point by the Bull statue. Usualy, Emo kids meet when they're not hanging out by the cathedral, and Asian tourists are snap happy with their cameras smiling at Birmingham's very own sacred (male) cow. But today a mist obscured my view of the passers by as Kuan held her hand out to me. I helped her down and gave her a hug. It had been quite some time since our last day out, we had gone to Merry Hill during the sales. She was looking good, slimmer than last time. Rosily glowing like a baby's face after they've passed wind.

We walked around Selfridges food court pulling each other's sleeves, prying one another away from sweet temptations offered by Krispy Kreme donuts and rainbow coloured Jelly Bellys. We're on diets -Kuan Yin and I. Together we weigh in at three hundred and thirty three pounds. We're heavyweight deities for sure. Not that I am in her league where divinity is concerned, however, I like to think I'm fully stocked with a pint or two of strawberry flavoured compassion and over flowing with unconditional sherbet love. I'm imbued with an energy efficient white light of my own.

She told me that her weakness, despite the compassion she exudes - is sushi. Not terribly compassionate towards the dead, raw, skinned fish is she? The Yo! Sushi store caught her eye, she almost dropped her pearls. Her nose began to twitch like a cat sniffing out it's supper. Instantly, she forgot her sweet craving, the donuts became a past memory. Barging her way through the aisles, I followed picking up the debris that fell from the shelves. She knocked down three shelves of Oreo cookies imported from America. "£6.95" was stickered obnoxiously on the box teasing me to buy them. Arrogant fucking imports I thought as I put them back on the shelves. I preferred Hobnobs.

"I must have sushi," she cried.
"But Kuan, it's not friday. In England, fish is eaten on friday with chips and mushy peas. It's a tradition. If we don't live by British society's standards then they'll make us take a British Citizenship exam."
"I need fish. I've not had fish for three hundred and thirty-three years. Oh Tina, please can I stop for some Temaki and Unagi? I know we said we would not eat out but I will forever be in your debt. I can bestow your children with unending love and compassion. Eh? How does that sounds?"

I did want my children to be kind to others and share their sweets with those less fortunate. Perhaps a little sushi would be ok, it's only rice and raw fish. She wouldn't put on much weight with a couple of those diddy pieces, I thought.

"Ok, but I can't eat them with you. I had a bad experience once with raw fish."
I remembered how violently ill I had been after an ALL-YOU-CAN-EAT sushi buffet. I knew I shouldn't have rode on the Ferris wheel straight after, but I wanted to see the city lit up at night. "It was terrible, the worst food poisoning ever. But you have some sushi, I can have some soba noodles." I told her.
"I cannot thank you enough my dear Tina, your children will grow to respect others and share their love with all of humanity."
"Yeah, ok. Just don't make them into whores, I don't want them 'making love' to all of humanity. Got it?" I looked at her with slight apprehension.

English-Chinese translations often went horribly wrong. I had once tried to say: "I most love..." but instead I told my boss "I want to make love." My boss had looked very frightened by my amorous statement.

I had faith, but only up to a point. I had also been disappointed by other deities with their promises and extra limbs. Once, I was pruning a privet outside in the front garden, when I felt four hands grabbed my fleshy bits. I won't name names, but all I'll say is be wary of handsome gods with multiple digits.

Kuan Yin sat down on a high stool. The sushi dishes moved past her like traffic in a slow to medium paced race, the Unagi was beating the Maguro, whilst the Ikura was lagging way behind the California Rolls. It was making me feel sick, the constant movement of the pale reds and salmon pinks made me turn to face Kuan Yin. I watched as she torn the paper and freed her chopsticks, rubbing the wooden sticks together to remove any splinters. She became the worshipper instead of the worshipped, the worshipper of fish. Raw fish. She picked up dish after dish, tossing the sushi pieces into her wide mouth with glee. I eventually lost count, but I'd estimate thirty three at least. Her face emanated a kind of grace as she ate. I had never known fish to produce such effects before.

to be continued...