End of Kipple #8

March 7, 2011

I feel the need to clarify: these entries obviously convey frustration. Many readers seem to be interpreting frustration as "misery" which is absolutely not the case! 

Almond Flowers!

Maybe it would make you miserable. I can't say I wouldn't blame you. But: It is all in good humor and the average Israeli complains more than he smokes, which is really saying something, in case you didn't know. 

Ok, so it's lonely and irrational, chaotic, downright insane. But I love it and I've never been happier or more sure of any decision I've made in my life. Yes. I'm crazy. But aren't we all? So, I don't love Jerusalem? I have the Galilee, Tel Aviv, the Negev.

I hope that helps to calm some of your worries or doubts regarding my state of mind and how wonderful it is to live here. I encourage you to visit--once I'm settled in an apartment situation.

'Nough said.

March 2, 2011

Slowly but surely, things fall together. In many ways, Aliyah is like being born all over again. You get spat out, full of scum. This time, no one will wipe you off or unclog your nostrils. No one will hold you when you cry, so you have to clean yourself, hold yourself.

Tu Bishvat at Beit Canada 

Being cradled in the arms of air is all right. I can't fall anywhere because I'm already as far down as we can go without digging. But pens run out and Truth changes. This gift for this moment, then a loss--and another gift for that moment.

Jerusalem opens up for me. I meet a friend. Someone is waiting for me behind a counter, on the street. I get a tour of the Old City. It's quiet there, full of ghosts, history, many orders of angels. The present meets the past and together we make the future. I am in love with this place and I don't know why.

I am in love with the way fathers here can show affection. The children know they're loved.

I am in love with the streets, with the people on them--the way they don't know how free they are while I grew up free on paper.

Everything's a matter of perspective here and I am entitled to mine. Here I feel really free and not just rhetorically free. They can yell at me and I can yell right back.

Bunnies in Yokneam

In America we yell all the time. even with hundreds of millions, there is still so much empty space. I think that space got into me and never filled me up. I mourn for America now. There is nothing I can do to fix her other than speak softly for her, halfway around the world. The American Dream went East. If we will it, Eden is within us.

February 28, 2011

There are a million ways to hold your breath if you're waiting for something that won't ever come. I swear, I've tried almost all of them but I'm over it. There's a whole planet of air to breathe and, dammit, I'm gonna breathe it until we've burned it all out.

I'm a magnet for absurdity. No question. Keep it coming. I must have a sign in Invisible Neon flashing brightly on my forehead calling desperately for every weirdo to break into the territory. Unbeknownst to me, of course. I just mind my own business and they flock.

There be madness on the streets here, but we haven't imploded-exploded like everyone else around us. Count it as a blessing. Count it as a curse.

Me!

Paint me any which way you want--now I'm a part of it and I'm glad. Something about the dust rolling off the streets here makes people glow. I've been told I'm one of them. But if everyone glows, it's nothing special.

One week has brought its usual healthy supply of marriage proposals by old men that could be my grandfather. Let's put it this way: if I said yes, they'd be doing pretty well in life and I wouldn't, until they kicked the bucket and I inherited his "fortune". It would be a case of "Lyin' Eyes" and driving towards the other side of town. What are these idiots thinking? I will never be that desperate. But I suppose they will...they are. And have been for years, most likely.