Apparently, there was another attack on weapons transmissions in Syria tonight. Apparently, we are doing this a few times a week. Apparently, there are dozens we miss that go to Hizballah and Jihad. And all of them are aimed at me
I had a long romantic entry about the terrible day I had and then the escape the beach afforded me. But while I was uploading the pictures, I erased it all. So to reconstruct, I had a terrible day and the beach made everything better!
This came out today and I haven’t really looked at it yet, because I had to get the stuff ready for Thursday and it was all too much. After all, it’s been a while since I’ve given a live reading and the fact that it is multilingual complicated things immeasurably. I haven’t even seen my kids.
so don’t think I’m ignoring you. I’m just bad at organizing and a bit embarrassed that this is all about me. But most of all, I’m learning an awful lot about my own poetry and my own life. And most of all I’m learning about who my friends are. I don’t mean who is helping me out, or who is reading tomorrow, but who is supporting me emotionally, even though I’m got my head up my ass right now.
I mean just think what else I am ignoring. I always take Nasrallah’s threats seriously, because he usually means what he says. And I haven’t checked the shelter or made sure the key is on the door. I haven’t even watched most of the news. Clearly my head is where I said I was hiding it.
Our informed discussion on Hedy Lamarr last night left me totally confused about identity. Jewish identity, public identity, private identity, identity as a quantity, etc.
who gets to define Jewish identity, for example? The Rabbi? Hitler? The individual? I may be certain about my Jewish identity but completely confused about my religion when I wander around Bnai Brak or Dubai.
and I still haven’t put away the last tureen, so the last word has not been said. I shall return soon and update.
sometimes I’m very sad that our only vacation this year was marred by Covid and we never had a real change of atmosphere. But when we go out in Tel Aviv I feel we’re on vacation anyway. Today, for instance, we had lunch at Manta Rei on the beach. When I came home to a zoom with poet friends in Canada I felt we’d all been on vacation. Everyone had great things planned for the weekend. But my vacation was the most fun. There is nothing like the beach.
Tomorrow my book club is going to be talking about one of the many contradictory books about Hedy Lamarr, so I’m making a dinner as much in the Austro-Hungarian empire mood as possible. Cold cherry soup, gevetch, szekeley goulash, tshipetke, and Hungarian applesauce cake. After years of catering primarily to shnitzel-driven grandchildren, I feel like I’m getting me cooking mojo back, and I’m even considering writing a cook book. It begins with “wear good shoes” and ends with “get someone else to clean up.”
He’s another guy in my thoughts all day. I keep looking for a site that updates his situation – is he getting better? Will he be able to write again? The Fatwa was on for so many years I thought it wouldn’t happen. We took it as a joke. It was just like with Rabin. Extremists mean business.
I know I wrote something about his death a few days ago, but it keeps coming back to me – that he was so single-minded about singing that he didn’t seem to notice the time passing. That he was a broken old man and still wanted to be a rock singer. When I too was going that route, he was making a comeback with The High Hats, and everyone thought it was a joke. But he did it, he did it straight and he did it well. Maybe that’s why he stays in my mind.
Because Ezi had previously gone through the Mohs procedure – where they take out a skin growth, do a biopsy to make sure they got everything, and then go through the process again. He has sailed through them in the past, resting up for a few hours and then going back to whatever he was doing before.
But this time it’s on a place on his neck that makes it painful to move. This means I’ve got to do the cooking 🙂 and last night we discovered the kids are coming back tomorrow (hungry I hope) and my book club is coming for dinner on sunday.
So as much as I want to follow Zahava Galron’s progress in the political carnival now, I am too involved in domesticity. My vegan cold cherry soup needs a bit of spicing up, and the taste of my Gevetch reveals I didn’t remember all of the ingredients properly. I’m not even satisfied with the Szekeley goulash yet. Once I’ve gotten them right, however, I’ll be happy to share them with you. Haven’t made the Hungarian applesauce cake yet, but I want everything to be in the taste of Hedy Lamarr, just so we can talk about her with some measure of experience.