Matti Caspi has written close to 1000 songs, and he has been cancer-ridden for the past year or so. The number of concerts and evenings dedicated to him are unbelievable – as though we’re clinging to the wonderful range of emotions he presented and invoked, and the innocence of our past.
Chat GPT assures me there is famine in Gaza, and when I look at the photographs I am reminded of the rich fields and orchards I used to see there. All are gone – and even though the people don’t look as thin as people, say, in Sudan, the sand and rubble make me feel that no matter how many trucks arrive at the distribution points, the self respect that is essential to any folk is impossible to achieve if they cannot feed themselves.
i usually don’t tell you when I read, but tonight I’m kind of in need of a friend or two. I only read 3 poems but it would be nice to have someone in the audience who likes my work…
what do old ladies talk about after they’ve ruled out grandchildren and illnesses? In Israel they talk about what they are doing for the soldiers, what they are doing against the government, then what they are going to do without all the doctors who have left the country.
Babysitting our grand-dog while the family gets their remodeled flat ready to move in I am reminded of our first dog Mocha, and how much these dogs are alike. This is Mocha:
charlie will appear as soon as I can catch him at rest:
since everyone here is in a state of depression, I try not to talk a lot. But I have a few friends who believe, as I do, that we have to be positive, productive human beings now. We sit around, searching for something good to say – without ignoring the truths surrounding us.