Introducing the Hardline According To ...Ofer Maimon

Learning to fly...

2011-11-27T00:46:00.001+02:00

I'm not even gonna try to say something eloquent to excuse the lack of updates on this blog. Suffice to say I've been busy, primarily with my day time work at Webpals as Content Writer, but lately also with setting up websites to drive traffic to a friends online shop for Swedish Snus, and hence trying to get a better grip on SEO as well as website building. If any one should want to ponder the results so far you find them here and here respectively. So far this latter engagement has only cost me money, but then again, if a few thousand Israelis could get it into their heads to quit smoking, it might be worth it. Other than that.

* Politics here in the Middle East has been a complete mess for almost a year, and commenting on it would require full time dedication. Suffice to say they started handing out gas masks to government employees. Everything is pointing to war, but there are many theories as to when, why and who. Even western media has started writing about what I pointed out half a year ago - nothing changed in Egypt except that the thin veil of civil government was removed. The military stayed in power.

* Dating seem to be a punishment for our sins, and I spend a lot of time consoling those that engage in it. My own efforts aren't really bearing fruit either....

* The crazy begging female junkie who is usually very happy and social had a fit of anger yesterday as I walked through the hood. And one of the refugees had a tantrum about how he would "kill all the whites and Jews". It was early though, so I wasn't in the mood to argue.

* Spent shabbes in bed, KO:d by a cold from hell.

* It's winter, which means rain and cold mornings and evenings. I have however discovered that the train is a more pleasant way of traveling 3 hours a day to work than are the constantly overcrowded buses.

* Im trying to quit smoking. How it feels? See pic above....

* Hopefully to be updated sooner next time around. Chodesh tov.

Rewind and fast forward, snapshots of a busy month

2011-07-29T16:38:00.004+03:00

So I haven't updated the blog for some time and the reason is simple. I landed a job and started working a month ago, and as I live in Beer Sheva and work in Tel Aviv I spend almost all my spare time, 4 hours a day, on buses. It's driving me slightly insane but I'll be moving to Bat Yam in a month or two. Below please find a few action points, each of which would deserve their own posts. In the best of worlds they might get them, bit in the meantime, here we go.

* Woke up to the sad new today that the grand son of the great Baba Sali, Rabbi Elazar Abuhatzeira, had been murdered here in Beer Sheva, just three blocks away in his Yeshiva. He was one of the country´s most important Mizrachi Rabbis, as well as my Ravs neighbor and my Rabbanits Rabbi. I went over to my Rav and talked for a while. The Rabbanit looked as she had been crying all night. Sad times.

Baruch Dayan HaEmet. Zicrono LiBracha.

* I went to Sweden for a while. Horrible weather and I got homesick for Israel almost immediately. But it was very nice to see my parents, my sisters and my grandma.

* I'm reading Richard Dawkin's The God Delusion, an anti-religious book trying to prove the non-existance of God. Mr Dawkin's is an Evolutionary biologist, and I don't doubt his expertise in his field. However, evolution has little to say about the existence of the divine, and hence Dawkins goes on to dabble in three unrelated disciplines: Philosophy, Statistics and Insults. And the only one he understands is Insults.

* I'm working at Webpals as an affiliate marketing content writer. It's a lot of fun and it's a very nice company with very nice co-workers. Basically we do affiliate marketing for casino web sites.

* My walk to work from the central bus station takes me through the worst neighborhood in Tel Aviv, a rundown maze of Sudanese refugees, strip clubs, sex stores, prostitute drug addicts and their customers, pimps and drug dealers. I´ve gotten used to it by now, but it's not a pretty sight.

* A racist madman har murdered 67 kids in Norway. It took Muslim-haters and Israel-haters about 2 days before they started making politics of the tragedy. The Norwegian ambassador took the opportunity to defend Hamas in an Interwiew, claiming that they - as opposed to Anders Breivik, may he burn in hell - was fighting for a noble cause. He should have his head examined. And seriously: What does this have to do with the ME conflict at all? If the ambassadors shoelace snaps, is this also the fault of the diabolical Jews?

* I need to find time to work on my Hebrew. Even though most Israelis in TA speak English, Israeli society is in Hebrew only. And living outside of society is a lonely place.

Shabat shalom!

Houston, we have a job (and an airplane ticket)

2011-06-10T17:20:00.003+03:00

So it's Friday and Shabat will kick in in a couple of hours and seeing as it's been at least a month since my last post I thought I'd say a word or two about the past, rather busy, month.

* Summer has started. That means in Beer Sheva, that it's around 35 Celsius during the day and that the temperature difference between night and day is getting smaller and smaller, and that a fan in the room is once again a prerequisite for successful sleeping.

* Some Palestinian leaders are beginning to question the "Let's get a state in September via UN" strategy. No shit, Sherlock. Irrespective of what happens in the vote, it will indeed be diplomatically embarrassing for Israel, seeing as the latest US Administration has ushered in an impressive "Let's Hate The Jews" feel to international politics. But then what? Israel is embarrassed for a month or two, and after that the Palestinians still have no state, they have corrupt Fatah and terrorist Hamas, and they are painted into a corner by their own refusal to participate in peace negotiations. They will be stuck with no options, unless they are going to opt for another Terror War against Israelis civilians.

* After a couple of job interviews I have finally landed a job at an Internet Marketing Agency that does affiliate marketing for the Gambling Industry. Yes!! Even though gambling may not be the most interesting product, the company comes through as very serious and all the people I met with have been really nice. I'm really looking forward to be working as part of a team instead of as a freelancer, the latter getting a bit lonely at times. I'm also looking forward to being able to get my own apartment. The job is in Tel Aviv, but seeing as that is not my favorite city, I'll be looking to move to Ashdod or Bat Jam, where the atmosphere is a bit more laid back. Hopefully I can get a 2 room apt so I can have guests over!

* Seeing as I landed a job, I felt financially secure enough to buy an airplane ticket to Sweden. So I'll be arriving June 19 and going back June 30. I'm very much looking forward to seeing my grandma and the rest of the family and friends! And Stockholm that is incredibly beautiful in summer....

So long and shabat shalom...

Snapshots and time...

2011-05-09T19:20:00.001+03:00

This Shabbes Doron The Vibe came over for a visit. He's found a job in Tel Aviv cleaning homes and stairs, and seem happy not to have to deal with telemarketing. It seems a lot of telemarketers demand of their callers to claim to be calling from the US. Apparently they assume that the hatred for Israel is of such proportions that people will refuse to by prescription meds without prescriptions from an Israeli company. Prescription meds without prescriptions? Yep, that was the last gig he looked into and I fail to understand how this can be legal. Who knows.

In any case my plan was to get up reasonably early to clean up the apartment that had turned into a rather disgusting mess with Dorons absence (he was the cleaner here, sort of...). But the previous night I couldn't fall asleep and woke up from Doron banging on the door around 3 PM. Panic! I ran down to Supersol and managed to get in just before they closed to buy food. Meanwhile Doron started cleaning the apartment, and I started cooking. We ended up having a very nice Shabbes meal, talking, eating and drinking whine. I also snapped some pictures before we went to Shul for Kabbalat Shabat.

Other news in short:

* Hamas and the PLO is in the process of forming a unity government. Anyone who were in doubt about Mahmud Abbas peace intentions should be set straight by now. Unless they belong to the faction to which facts are the same as whatever aligns smoothly with their ideology. Wish there were fewer of that band, both on the left and on the right.

* I'm officially broke. This is not the greatest problem in the world, I've bee there many times before. It simply means I'm getting closer and closer to that factory job. No biggie.

* Unfortunately I'm not the only one who is broke here. So is my Rabbi who has 10 children to support and mortgages on a house to pay. He's been working the last 25 years at a Talmud Torah teaching Gemara. Sadly, this is a Satmer Yeshiva, and hence they refuse to accept support from the government. And so with the Stock Market breakdown in the US, all the rich Satmerim who used to support them are having problems and are focusing their support to US institutions. A result of this mess is that my Rabbi has worked without salary for 8 months. If any rich Jew reads this and wishes to do a mitzvah, give me a holler!

* I received a request to write copy from an interfaith institution in Jerusalem on a freelance basis. I responded and named my price and haven't heard from them since. Quite possibly the price I mentioned was too high, I have no idea what is the typical copy rates in Israel.

* Spent yesterday finishing the the English copy for Brickit.se. I'm happy with the result and hoping it will go up soon, seeing as most English copy I've done has been confidential business correspondence and hence useless for my portfolio.

* A friend of mine has separated from his wife. It sort of makes me feel old. You're 25ish and you see your friends rosy cheeked and in love. Then you're 30ish and you go to their weddings and brits and name-giving ceremonies. And now at 40ish you see them separate and getting divorced. Meanwhile you are still trying to find someone to fall in love with. I'm not complaining and I don't feel sorry for myself. It's just a sense of the wise Brazilians call "Saudadji", a bittersweet melancholy, of the passage of time.

* I've been telling people I'm writing a crime novel. Guess I better make an effort to get passed the first page;-)

* Tonight is Yom Haatzmaut, Israel's birthday. Me and Quentin are going to a party by invote of someone I never even met, and Anglo organization in Beer Sheva. Then we're off to see the fireworks over the city. Should be fun. Happy birthday Israel!!

So long.

Will copywrite for food...

2011-05-05T22:14:00.003+03:00

So a miscalculation on my part led me last night to realize that I'm all but broke, and that I need to find a job pronto. Obviously this is easier said than done. Being an immigrant with still fairly poor command of the native language, my options aren't that great. It's a humbling experience. I have, of course, applied for every copywriting position for English language copy I've found, and there are quite a few. So far though, with one exception, no one has come back to me, probably because of my lacking Hebrew. For even if the writing language is English, the working language is not.

The exception? Well a Forex web site of a company in Hertzeliah asked me to provide them with a writing sample. I did some quick research on the company – bforex.com – and it took me some two hours to determine that their forex trading web site is basically a scam. The web is replete with complaints from people who hasn't been able to get their money back from them, either because they wanted to cut their losses or because they wanted to withdraw their profits. They're also in the habit of spamming forex discussion forums with comments and five star reviews and fake testimonies of their fantastic reliability. And the fantastic awards bforex.com claim to have won are talked about on a plethora of web sites. Ehh...only problem is that they are the only ones to ever have won these awards, ever...My research also showed that the whole Forex-Over-Internet business seems highly doubtful at best. Israel is host to some 20 of these companies, which seem to be a result of the responsibility for regulating their activity have fallen between the chairs of two different government offices. In any case, just as I didn't move to Israel to live half my life in Jönköping (see previous post), I didn't come here to indulge in unethical business practices and scams, however profitable this may be. Other news in short:

Grandmother extraordinaire...

* Seeing as I'm almost broke, I went to Etgar College, an organization that helps Olim Chadashim to find employment. They said they would try to find a factory work to me. It seems then, I went to Israel to rejoin the working class. Like I said, it's a humbling experience. Which is fine, having nothing I have to do is driving me slightly nuts. The will also translate my CV into Hebrew. Good people, them.

* The Vibe packed up and left last week, and it's sort of empty here after his leaving. Not to mention that the apartment is a mess. Spleener-dude was the tidy guy around here. He's even gotten himself a gig cleaning houses in TA, when he's not busy hitting the light switch of his clients. He is coming here for Shabbes tomorrow. Good stuff.

* We are in the middle of the Omer Count between Pesach and Shavuot. To remember the 24 000 of Rabbi Akiva's students who died from a plague during this time, it's the custom to take upon us some laws of mourning. One of those it to not cut you hair or beard until LaD BaOmer (the 34th day of the Omer count) for Sephardim and one day earlier for Ashkenazim. And what can be said? My hair is getting long and a lot of it is grey. Then again, I got to look like 30 for 10 years, so I'm not complaining:-)

* Hamas and Fatah has signed a unity deal. How long it will hold and if it will equate more or fewer rockets over Beer Sheva remains to be seen.

* My beloved grandmother has moved out to her house in Öland, the Island where also my father lives. And for the first time I really miss Sweden, or a small part of what Sweden is to me, rather. Like my family and cousins and uncles and well...my grandmother.

In any case, going forward I will also attack Swedish newspapers. What they are publishing concerning Israel is mostly a joke, not only because their Pro-Palestinian bias, but even more so because of their lacking knowledge of the country, and even more, lacking interest. It is quite possible that this is the way they want it. But I'll give it my best shot. I'm not eager to join Quentin in the potato processing plant....

So long.

Action points and shout-outs

2011-04-25T22:12:00.007+03:00

* The Vibe has found an apartment in Tel Aviv and is – it seems – moving out tomorrow. He also found a job as a telemarketer selling medicine if I understood correctly. He doesn't seem to happy about the telemarketing thing, but is looking forward to the move. In the meantime he and Roger has constructed a web page where you can elicit his services and buy his books, so if you feel you need to throw your inner light switch, you can visit him below.

* Me personally, I am going to miss him very much. Although somewhat skeptical about his vibrating spleen (or Light Activation as he prefers to call it), he has been a fantastic friend and a real Mensch.

* Speaking of web sites, my eminent and beloved friend Nano has started a company with a few other Creative Pros named Brickit. They are specializing in the creation of mobile apps for iPhones, Android and other Smart Phones and Handhelds. Yours truly has written the copy for their web site (English version is in the tube), and should you ever need a Super Professional Digital Developer Agency, they come very highly recommended:

* Seeing as we will be one tenant short in the apartment, rather than risking that the Merkaz puts a drinking, pig eating 20-year old Russian in the vacant room, we have asked an American guy named Chaim to move in. Chances are he'll take it, as his present flat mate is weirdo who puts pictures of dead people up in the common room, and goes to pray by the grave site of "The Tzadick" Baruch Goldstein, a really nice guy who gunned down 29 praying Arabs in Hebron in 1994...

* Jochanan and his beautiful family has moved to Jerushalaim, where he will be studying at Ohr Sameach, a religious Yeshiva school. As a vet of the Iraq war, the US Army will pay for the tuition and he will graduate with a Master of Jewish Studies. I'm happy for him, but I miss them.

A happy jerusalemite

* It's been Pesach here for the last 7 days, the holiday celebrating the Exodus out of Egypt. No bread for 7 days. Tomorrow it's Mimuna, the Moroccan festival celebrating the return of bread.

* It's time to leave the shielded reality that is the Merkaz. I've started to look for work but unfortunately so far I've come up with zilsch. Sooner or later I'll find something, but in the mean time, id you need a world class copy writer (ahem..), please contact me via my home page below.

* I did get one job offer to installing and testing software for medical equipment. Unfortunately I'd spend 50% of the time in....Jönköping. A small Swedish town in the bible belt, with not a single Jew in sight. I thought about it for one second and then said thanks, but no thanks...one lone Shabbes on a hotel in that town and I'd be in tears...

* Daniel four fingers met a girlfriend! Hopefully she'll kick him in the but hard enough to get his thumb out and start doing something constructive of his life.

* Last night some stupid kid was running his light MC and doing burnouts in the street outside. At 1.30 AM. I screamed from the window to SHUT UP, at which he honked his horn. I flipped and grabbed an orange and threw it out the window 4 stories up, towards the sound. Apparently he got the message cause he speeded away. I'm seriously fed up with the late night motor fests the kids are having outside. Apparently I'm becoming a grumpy old geezer...

So long, and thanks for all the fish.

Spring in Beer Sheva

2011-04-24T18:11:00.002+03:00

The funny guy will tell you there are only two seasons in southern Israel: Green and Brown. While this may be hyperbole, summer definitely belong to the brown season. So I thought I'd go out and document the Green season, a bit late but still. The results you'll find in the below pics. Enjoy.

Jews, Oil and the Arabs no one care about

2011-04-24T14:02:00.002+03:00

”You know, I think Assad is going to fall”, my old Kurdish friend tells me over Skype last night. ”Something is happening although nobody knows exactly what. You need to understand that just a few months ago, no Syrian even here, in the diaspora, dared to say anything against Bashar Assad. That is how scared everyone was.”

Now he tells me that in a village in Kurdish Syria, a group of elders had visited the secret police, asking them to take down a statue of Bashar Assad, for as they had said: ”The youngsters are so angry we can't control them, it's better you do it.”

The blood baths this passed weekend at funerals in Syria, with security forces killing around 17 civilians, again puts the finger on the double standards of the West's involvement the Arab Spring and it's revolutions. The Syrian diaspora is watching in disbelief how Nato has intervened militarily on behalf of a disorganized and Al-Qaeda linked Libyan opposition to overthrow a dictator who has spent the last 10 years aligning himself with Western interests, while staying ominously silent when Bashar Assad, a Terror Sponsor par excellence and an aggressive enemy of the West, is committing the same kind of atrocities that got Muammar Gaddafi into war with Nato.

A lot have been said about this seeming contradiction, most eloquently by Caroline B. Glick in Jerusalem Post. In short, The West has no sound reason to intervene in Libya, seeing as the risk that a new government taking over after Khadaffi will be worse, for the West as well as for the Libyans, is paramount. In Syria on the other hand, it can't get worse. Basher Assad's regime is already a puppet for Iranian influence in the Arab world, a gun runner for Hizballah and Hamas, and the prime destabilizer of Lebanon. So intervening there should make sense, right? And another plus is the fact that Syria has a sizable Kurdish population, who are traditionally Pro-West. So how should we understand the US and Nato involvement in Libya and it's utter reluctance to help the Syrian revolution along?

”The silence in the West concerning the Syrian blood bath has finally made me understand that the Western Lefties and Liberals don't care at all about the Arab people”, my friend says, ”they only care about the fight against Israel”. His statement contains a partial answer to the conundrum, or as another Kurdish friend framed the same conclusion: "God, I wish Israel would occupy Kurdistan." Bingo.

The Left couldn't care less about Arabs. Not even about Palestinians. Jordanians and Syrians and Kuwaitis have killed many more Palestinians than Israel ever did. There are around 350 000 000 Arabs in the world, but all the worlds Humanitarians, Liberals and Lefties only care about the 4 million in the West Bank and Gaza, and for those fighting Israel. As for Libya, it obviously no longer is a force in the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. Syria on the other hand is a weapon pointed at the heart of Israel, something that clearly helps moderating Left and Liberal demands for an intervention there.

But there is another point I've strangely enough haven't seen in this discussion in mainstream media outlets, which is the answer to the obvious question: ”How much oil does Syria have"? The answer: Not a lot. Libya on the other hand has the 17th largest oil reserve in the world, twice as big as that of the US. And foreign interests in Libyan oil are huge.

So it would seem that the Arabs the West care about, militarily, politically and intellectually, are those who are either fighting Israel, live in the territories, or have a lot of oil. But I hope I'm wrong, because this conclusion doesn't spell a great future for the Arab spring.

3 AM: Breakup times, new blogs and a typeface conundrum...

2011-04-08T04:13:00.003+03:00

Insomnia has been the name of the fame lately. Blurry nights and blurrier days. People tell me I should cave in to the stillnochts. But I don't know. I still doubt it's really a chemical issue, I guess. Currently I'm indulging in nostalgia by way of a Youtube Safari into the golden age of Swedish Hip Hop. Should you wonder what was created under this short period that lasted from around 1994-1998, I recommend having a look at "Blend Dom", by Latin Kings, the group that ushered in said Golden Age.

Other than that I spent the last couple of minutes trying to change the font of my last post, a pome that may not be for eternity, but at the time fairly well captured my thoughts on the emptiness of putting yourself at the center of the world at ever instant. And I can't get this poem to read out in the predefined typeface of this blog, no matter how many times I paste it back and forth from my trusted text editor BBedit. It remains in some screwed up version of Helvetica Bold. Weird is only half of it.

In any case It's been a while since my last update so instead of sleeping I thought I'd through out some action points, a concentrate of the last few weeks. Here we go:

* Purim came and went. I was supposed to go to Raanana for a traditional Purim with the Silbermans, but came the day, I was far to hungover from the previous nights Purim celebrations at the Rabbi to even consider spending 4 hours on a bus back and forth.

* Quentin got a job in a potato processing factory. That may sound high tech but what it actually means is that they bring the industrially harvested potatoes on big trucks, along with soil, stones, branches, worms and the occasional bones from departed animals, and dump all this on big conveyor belts, from which Quentin and his co-slaves are support to sort out the edible stuff an dump the rest. After which they stack the potatoes in large trays, clean them and pack them. All this work is manual and it's 12 hours a day, 68 hours a week, with an hourly salary of 4 bucks. Basically it's a sweatshop exploiting new immigrants.

*The Vibe is finding more and more clients and is spending a lot of time going to and from Tel Aviv, last time around he was at some alternative conference, handing out flyers to interested people and making new contacts. He is looking for an apartment in Tel Aviv, and once there he'll probably get rich in a heartbeat. Half on that town is stressed out of their mind and all of them are alternative, beach-tennis playing hipsters. He should make a killing.

* A new bag of Russians arrived here and some of them started a very loud fight the other day. Fortunately they were too drunk to actually achieve much more that a lot of ruckus.

* It's a sense of breakup here. The Vibe is as mentioned looking to take his Vibrating Spleen to a more appreciative market. Quentin is working around the clock, and me...well I've started to look for work. Living here is sort of a sheltered work shop and I'm starting to get tired of it. Tired of the Cubans who plays Salsa at moron volume ever Shabat, tired of the angry Russians and the tired parents who send their kids out to run riot everywhere because they cant stand having them around in the small apartments. It's time to leave this sheltered existence, to find a place of my own to stay, and most of all to start working. Beside I don't have much choice, I'm starting to run out of money. Who knows, if I don't get lucky I might end up with Quentin and the other minions, sorting potatoes around the clock. I will miss the people here though, and most of all my flat mates. But there is a season for everything. The time for this period of our lives will soon be up.

* The cashiers at Supersol are still inefficient beyond belief. But I no longer think much about it. I've even gotten used to the worthless bus drivers and the omnipresent bureaucratic incompetence. Guess I'm slowly becoming Israeli.

* I started a new blog. About copywriting. If that sounds like you cup of tea, drop by at http://thecoolthecopyandthecontent.blogspot.com/

* The Rabbis set me up on a shidduch (date, sort of). I came by the Rabbis house 2 weeks ago and the Rabbi said he had dreamt about me and this girl. So some back and forth with his wife, him and the Rabbanit put me in a car and drove to the other side of town. Then they told me to wait in the car while they went in and talked to the girls mother. They were gone for about half an hour. Then they came out and told me I was welcome to come in. And so I sit there for half an hour listening to the mother rambling about her dead husband, crying and blowing her nose and showing me a stream of pictures of him and other family members, while the "girl" (a heavyset woman with the charisma of a wrestler), was sitting on a chair a few meters away. All of this in a mix of Hebrew and Moroccan. I hardly understood a word. I did however understand that it was a Rabbinical and Ultra-Orthodox family, and that the "girl" hadn't even finished high school. It as the twilight zone revisited. Fortunately she must have decided against me cause I never heard another word about it.

Well, I guess that sort of sums it up. Now it's 4 AM and I'll see if I can get a couple of hours sleep before it's time for Shul. Laila tov.

And looking back at you...

2011-03-30T21:47:00.007+02:00

to be selfish is to be by your self
at your self and for your self and
by your self

tailoring every one
to your self
measuring every one
to your self for your self

and no matter how many admirers
lovers
followers
disciples
you may acquire cajole or attract

covering

every object
emotion
feeling
life

that passes
walks
talks
lives
before you

with your self

in the end

being selfish is being lonely

by
your
self

Rude wake up call...

2011-03-23T20:36:00.002+02:00

Last night I fell asleep around 2 AM. At 4.30 I awoke because someone was banging hard on my door. Drowsily I lifted my head.
"What the hell?"
"Air raid siren"", Quentin yelled, "missile incoming!"
We rushed out in the kitchen and sat down by the walls, while the sirens kept on wailing. Then the siren stopped and we both watched in amazement as Doron came out of his room, busy getting dressed.
"Sit down!"
Doron looked perplexed. Silence. Silence. Then a thunderous boom that shook the building. From Quentin banging on my door it may have taken some 40 seconds, but it felt more like 5 minutes. Doron looked slightly bewildered at us and then he sat down by the other wall. After the rocket had landed. After a little while we got up and looked through the window. The rocket had landed just 200 meters south of us after flying over our building, and exploded on the street where my synagogue is located. Had it flown 3 more meters it would have hit an apartment building. We saw the smoke billowing up. After a while I went back to sleep and managed to sleep through the second air raid siren a few hours later. This rocket landed farther away in an empty area in the city. It's some 46 kilometers from Gaza to here. The rockets that reach that far are not manufactured in some auto shop. They are made in Iran.

In the afternoon I went over to the Immigrants Office and spent 20 minutes watching as my case officer listlessly clicked away on her computer, every now and then letting away a sigh as if the weight of the world rested on her shoulders. It seems I'm getting unemployment. When I got out of her office everyone was congregating around the TV set in the corridor. A planted bomb had gone off outside the central bus station in Jerusalem, killing - so far - 1 person and wounding around 40. So I bicycled home and managed to get hold of my friends in Jerusalem and BH no one was hurt.

So instead of spending their money on helping their people, Hamas chooses to spend them on weapons. All of it, more or less. Leaving the task of supporting the population in Gaza to Israel and different international aid organizations. And this we do. Israel is supplying Gaza with electricity. Israel is supplying Gaza with gas. Israel is allowing thousands of tons of produce to flow into Gaza. And what do Gaza supply us with? Missiles.

Meanwhile Egypt is supplying Gaza with smuggled weapons and Jihadists and nothing more. And what is the outside worlds take on this? That we are laying siege to the poor Gazans. We have turned it into the greatest open air prison in the world. Right. Well, that took a few years of missile rain over southern Israel, topped off with a coup d'état were Hamas terrorists murdered a whole bunch of PA policemen. And all of this after Israel had pulled out every single soldier from Gaza, and after the Palestinians had destroyed hundreds of millions worth of agricultural equipment and hot houses bought and paid from the settlers by the World Bank. But of course. It's all our fault.

But sooner or later somebody needs to deal with the real culprit of all this mess, the Mullahs Iran. They are the ones exporting missiles and weapons via Iran and Egypt to Hamas and Hizballah. They are the ones supplying them with know-how and money, and who are financing their "social work". They are the ones who are doing their best to co-opt the revolutions that are sweeping the Arab world at the moment, in an effort to steer them clear of liberal democratic development and the chance of becoming democratic nations, and towards as much Islamist and Shiite influence as possible. I hope they will fail utterly, more democratic Arab world would hopefully spell a better future for everyone in the Middle East.

I'm hoping things will calm down on the Gaza front. The intelligence available suggests that Hamas doesn't want a full scale confrontation at the moment. Then again, they keep letting Islamic Jihad and their other cronies run wild, things could quickly escalate out of control. In which case living in the south of Israel might become very interesting.

Fistfights, President Obama and Antisemites...

2011-03-06T02:20:00.003+02:00

Few things will lighten up your Shabat evening like getting cracked over the head with a chair. Twice.

The evening started out as usual, with me and Quentin lighting the candles and heading off for Kabalat Shabat at the nearby Kippa Shul (The "dome" above it has the form of a Kippah, hence the name). After services we went over to the eminent Rav Nissim and had a nice shabbes dinner with signing and eating and a great atmosphere as per usual, nothing peculiar except that crazy Pavlova (see earlier post on the subject) was in attendance for the first time in a couple of months (the Rav had enough of his constant insulting and fight mongering with the other guests and asked him to stop coming). In any case, he behaved and around 10 PM we split for home, planning to make a quick visit to Peters birthday party.

Peter is a well-mannered English gentleman of 57 who made aliya about a year ago. He is also a fencing Master, busy teaching his students how to handles sables and other weapons in the art of fencing. When we arrived the party was at full throttle. We ended up having a few drinks and a good time. Present at the party was also Noddy, and unbenowst to me be – so I was later informed – he spent a large part of his evening aggressively prodding some of the other members into drinking more booze. Apparently he was particularly aggressive and obnoxious in pursuing this agenda with Dave, a South-African electrician my age, a very nice person with a bit of a temper and more muscles on his right arm than on Noddy's entire body. I'm not certain how Noddy had thought that idea through....Which brings us to the chair.

I found myself in an animated discussion with Peter when I hear an angry scream and turn around to see Dave lifting a chair over his head and Noddy backing away from him looking everything but calm and happy. And so I somehow managed to get between Noddy and the chair just in time to get whacked over the head with it. Twice. The rest of the evening turned into tears, accusations and drunken discussions, neither of which wanton saving for posteriority, and ended around 3 AM. I got away with a minor bump on my head a pair of glasses that will need some adjustment to sit straight again.

I ended up sleeping the whole Shabbbes day away, and when I awoke after Shabbes had gone out, I Was informed by our papers that the US President thinks that Israel shouldn't be afraid of recent changes in the Middle East, and I quote: "All the forces that we see building in Egypt are the forces that should be naturally aligned with the US, [and] should be aligned with Israel." Really?

Did President Obama miss what his own Secretary Of State, Hillary Clinton said this last Tuesday, about Iran's push to influence the outcome of the uprisings in the Arab world? “Either directly or through proxies, they are constantly trying to influence events. They have a very active diplomatic foreign policy outreach,” Clinton said. And how would the President assess the fact that Sheikh Yusuf al-Qaradawi drew over 1 million Egyptians when he held a speech at the Tahrir Square? Sheikh Yusuf al-Qaradawi in 2009 expressed his view on Shoah in the following way:

”Throughout history, Allah has imposed upon the Jews people who would punish them for their corruption...The last punishment was carried out by Hitler. By means of all the things he did to them – even though they exaggerated this issue – he managed to put them in their place. This was divine punishment for them...Allah willing, the next time will be at the hand of the believers.”

These are hardly the forces building that will "naturally realign" themselves with the US, even less so with Israel...

I'm all for democracy, and like President Obama I'm hoping that the Jihadists and haters will not be able to co-opt the Arab Revolutions. But Israel has very good reason to be apprehensive of the final outcome of these changes, that also include Hizballahs takeover in Lebanon, and the risk of a Shiite, Iran-friendly revolution in Bahrein. So for Obama to tell Israel to be "optimistic" from the comfort of the White House oval office, long before the dust has settled and democracy has won the day, come across as misinformed at best, and slightly ludicrous at worst.

Speaking of antisemitism. Lately it seems a lot of famous peeps (Charlie Sheen, John Galliano, Julian Assange, above) have felt an irresistible urge to vent their preposterous views on us Jews. And I can't help asking myself: Have these people never met any Jews? How do they think that the Jewish people, whose members usually can't agree with themselves, let alone with other tribe members, could possibly set up a World Wide Conspiracy? My home Synagogue in Stockholm has, since 25 years ago, 12 empty frames painted on the side walls, meant to contain symbols of the 12 tribes. Now, why are they empty? Because a huge argument erupted as to which symbols should be painted, and who should do the painting.....In the end nothing was painted in the frames and that was that. World conspiracy - fat chance...

C/O Night

2011-02-20T20:26:00.002+02:00

The United States of America
what do I care
about your super malls and
deserted dusty desert highways
the lonely light of a homesick highway
electra glide patrolman

draws a lonely golden creek between the mountains
your war on terror communism and drugs
lost and won and lost again
and stars and bars and drunks and stripes
on your shoulders and around
and your single
mothers working the split shift at Norms

your suffocating suburbs with their rows and rows and rows of homes
your working class in black and white and your heroes in technicolor
apollo, vietnam and saginaw and

dead presidents, money on your mind

your great lakes who took a thousand sailors to her depths
the new jersey turnpike, winter dawning
of walden or Kafka or mice of men or saviors in ryes or

bright lights big city
flakes of ash and soot and snow still falling through your dreams
there is a girl in new york city that paul simon called the human
trampoline
i call her blue
for the the color on her door, Delancey street, the number varies
it only opens with the secret codeword of my heart and there it is

i enter as a thief would enter - quietly
for a second I can see her lonely
lost in thought behind her typewriter
the antique wooden swivel chair creaks black hair, green earrings, blue jeans
black eyes straight in mine she says
across the ocean of our
ruins, pointless conversations, business cards and
karma
banging them pinball machines
of our failures, victories and dreams:

You do, you know. Care, I mean.

All Singles Day...

2011-02-14T23:48:00.005+02:00

So it's that silly day again. We've all seen the movies and heard the cheesy song about the boy/girl who doesn't get a card in the high school mailbox or posted flowers or whatever is the Godot of this day. It's a cultural cliche even for all us peeps who were lucky enough to have seen light outside The Home of Fly-over states and bad posturing. In the end, the girl get's the boy or vice versa. Here in Israel it's two hours left of this florist-invented day and I haven't gotten a single lousy binary FB salute or digital bouquet of flowers. Reason to believe my admireresses can be counted by the dozen minus twelve.

Makes me think of a conversation I had the other day, when one of my friends in this my new homeland came for a visit. For whatever reason we started talking about the notorious "Shidduch Crisis" in the religious Jewish community – meaning the fact that a large crowd of religious singles nowadays tend to stay single forever, until the "girls" find themselves in their late 30's or early 40's and the ""boys stay singe until they have no reasonable chance of attracting a fertile "girl", and until both have at least one friend who is a grandparent. Anyway we had our share of Israeli Stock Brandy, and he looked me in the eye and said with the absolute gaze of the middle aged halfway drunk:

"Listen man, you and I are men right?, and we tend to talk about things in a general perspective, you know. But, listen. On a personal level. When you find yourself googling your ex girlfriends, or looking up their new boyfriends twitter pages to get a clue, right, you are pretty pathetic right? And you do this bullshit even though she, during your relationship, mistook your bed for that of a bunch of other guys..horrible. And so like...it turns out she has left the continent to go to France, or she has met mr. Right and they are planning their rehearsal dinner or whatever? Or she's knocked up and in seventh heaven, crazy and out shopping for strollers and stuff?

Well. Ok. So then, you kick them off your facebook page, and remove their addresses from your e-mail app. And you try to focus on that novel you should have written by now, or that job you landed or being a good Jew or whatever. And you move on. And then after two years you can't help but googling her again, even though you are really over her. And so you find out that she's met a goyishe boyfriend, or has joined Jews For Jesuses or is studying to become a dentist. And you feel nothing, you know? You've even lost your ex. And all that is left after work is having too many drinks with your equally lost flat mate and watching dumb US Romcoms.... And I kind of wonder....do you get much lonelier that that? It's a weird thing, you know."

I have to admit that the above is what I recollect of a fairly long monologue, but it's the gist of it. I don't remember what I answered, I quite honestly was embarrassed. I'm not one for spilling the beans and I usually shy away from intimate conversation. But I can't help wonder what Valentines day is about... It's not like a there's a "I'm White, Male and Successful And not an Unemployed Looser Day", is there?

But then again. It also makes me think of the fantastic story as told by the political idiot and fantastic Singer-Songwriter Steve Earl, a story about a 20-something hitch-hiker he pick's up who has a burning desire see New York City. The older alter ego reminisce about his own trip to NYC and the complete failure it was, an how all the Big-Town pretty girls ignored him. So he thinks he has to warn the young man. But then, just when he is about to open his mouth to warn him, he changes his mind, and realizes: "but then I knew I'd just be jealous if I didn't wish him well. Slipped the kid a twenty saying Billy give'm hell""

In the end, though, having someone may not be as difficult as being alone, but as far as I (very) faintly remember, it's a struggle as well, and we all need as much love and support we can get. Whether the strength to find someone anew or the courage and innocence to find someone new. So to all you couples struggling with everyday lives, boredom and mortgages; and to all you singles trying to keep the faith alive in the face of the opposition of added years and added fears:

This is my twenty. Give'm hell.

Headlines....

2011-02-14T13:43:00.002+02:00

...is now back on track, but now the darn images won't display:-(

Instead of doing homework, I found a new way of procrastinating - re-designing my blog! Let me know what you think!

Birthday rant

2011-02-06T22:09:00.000+02:00

I was going to write something witty about today being my birthday, but all that came out was everything but. It came out more like the lyrics of a Country song, so I ditched it. Suffice to say that according to the Gregorian calendar I'm a year older, and Jochanan was kind enough to invite me to a sushi place in the "Old City" which to my astonishment actually served OK sushi. So we had sushi and debated the Middle East future in light of the Egyptian revolution, and to a slightly lesser degree, the Hizballah takeover in Lebanon. In short he took a slightly gloomier view than me, in the short run I don't believe the consequences for Israel will be disastrous. In the long run it might mean war, but as J.M. Keynes so eloquently put it, "In the long run we're all dead". For the time being I hope Egypt manages to get some sort of democracy going, and that the Old Guard don't decide to start murdering people as soon as the media limelight goes elsewhere.

It's been raining quite a lot in Beer Sheva lately, even pouring down at times, and a nice result is that the dessert town turns green and start blooming all around.

I've started a new Ulpan and I'm finally starting to get my head around the passive verbs. Just wish my teacher wasn't the Energizer Bunny she is. She's around 55ish and jumps around like a happy puppet, flashing off hyper smiles and going with any wild association that happen to fly through her head. She absolutely love teaching and her pedagogic style is that of Bugs Bunny. On Meth. In short she is driving me insane.

What else?

* The Vibe is looking more and more like a Guru for each day. Lately he has started wearing a white scarf as sort of a skirt over his also other-wise all-white outfit. And he is slowly building up a following for his Vibrating Spleen. Just now he came back from TA having made almost 500 shekels off his sessions. He might be the next Big Thing. He might be the new black. Or white.

* The Vibe is by the way very excited it's my birthday and keeps asking me what my plans are for my birthday. He's finding it difficult to accept my answer that I have none. Right now he's locked himself up in his room with one of his Vibration followers. Sorry, clients.

* A muslim Nazi keeps sending me pictures of Adolf Hitler, Goebbels, Quran and Gospel quotes and general rantings of how and why I shall burn in hell. On Facebook, where else? In order not to get blocked, this ingenious prat makes up new profiles for each batch. What the hell you want from me man? Get a life!

* My friend Frederick has finally gotten around to the next chapter in his comic strip creation career, by means of teaming up with a cartoonist that pics his scripts, and the two have now successfully premiered their Internet comic strip Biff Zongo, a strange blend of bad-taste, high-brow, below-waist, elitist white trash screwball comedy. Not for the feeble minded, though.

* Last night I dreamt a consortium had sent up a satellite with a great big disk on it, with which they would be able to cause solar eclipses by shutting out the rays of our nearest star, wherever and whenever they wanted. Basically they meant to make sunshine a commodity to market like any commodity. No money, no sunshine. India doesn't want to cough up the dough? - NO SUN FOR YOU. Remember where you read it first.

Anyway. Below a picture of myself, the author, at age 41.00. That's all for now. So long.

Party on, Wayne.

Pics and points of view

2011-01-28T15:58:00.000+02:00

So it's been little over a month since I last updated this blog and the reason is quite simple: it's been a rough month, but I won't delve into the sad specifics, suffice to say it's tough to change language, country, city and culture, and that when the novelty wears off, it gets tougher. Being single for protracted periods of time doesn't help much wither. Today I was supposed to go to Ramat Beit Shemesh to spend Shabbes with a friend, but unfortunately Egged had decided to runt their last bus there at 14.00, so I had to cancel. Below, please find some pics and action points.

* I did manage to get to Tzfat about a month ago, and it was a very pleasant stay in an environment very different from the one in Beer Sheva. I stayed at the Chabad run Ascent hostel – clean, friendly and cheap and I dearly recommend it for anyone interested in spending some time in Tzfat. Tzfat is located in the Galilee, high up in the mountains, on a mountain top, and it usually snows in winter. When I was there it was very cool and windy. It offers a fantastic panorama of the surrounding environs.

Blue is the typical color of Tzfat, and you will see it everywhere you turn - in Synagogues, houses and streets. The people of Tzfat is an eclectic mix of different Ortodox Jews and loudmouthed American Tourist Groups, mostly college aged kids arriving on tour buses and bustling around for a few hours, usually leaving around sunset. Tsfat is also home to a large artist community, and hence you will see a breed of people here that you won't find anywhere else – the religious Bohemian, dressed in an old color stained leather jacket, jeans, Dr. Martins and long, dangling peyot.

In Tzfat you will also find the below Sephardic Abyhav Synagogue, which in my view is the most beautiful Synagogue in the world, traditionally richly decorated with painted details in vivid colors.

Among the many paintings in the dome of Abyhav is one of the Dome of the Rock mosque, which strikes you as sort of nice in these times of religious and ethnical strife. The text under the mosque reads "Place of the Holy Temple".

The most famous of Tzfats Rabbis was Ari Hakadosh, and he has two Synagogues called up after him. The one where he actually prayed is the Sephardic Ari Hakadosh Shul, which nowadays unfortunately is only open on Shabbes. The below one is the Ashkenazi Ari Hakadosh Shul, which by the way is the most beautiful Ashkenazi Shul I ever seen.

The Ari also constructed a Mikveh, and legend has it that anyone who bathes in this ice-cold cave Mikveh is guaranteed to make full Teshuva (repentance) during his lifetime. Below yours truly after a morning dip.

The last day I went to pray at the Ari's grave site, which like many tombs in Tzfat is painted blue. Saying the prayers at his grave I felt like caught up in a very strong electric field. It was a strong religious experience.

Some time after my stay in Tzfat I went on a blind date in Jerusalem. We had a nice time even though we won't be seeing each other again. Just in front of the Central bus station they've dug up a 100 meter deep crater, which I assume will some time house the station for the new tram.

And a few more examples of the adventurous and often fascinating Beer Sheva architecure....

* I started the process to switch my drivers license to an Israeli one. In doing so I will have to take a few driving lessons. Which is funny considering Israelis can't drive at all.

* The cashiers at my local Supersol is breaking new records in how much time the can waste on every single customer. More generally it is strange that a people with so little patience as the Israelis have, have created a society that demand so very much of it.

* Winter has finally arrived which means that night temperatures are really low and daytime varies between 15 and 25.

Health Care lost in translation...

2010-12-27T09:46:00.000+02:00

So the idea was to go to the Kabbalist city of Tsfat this morning. I was just going to drop in to the health clinic to see the doctor. After finding my way there, though, the clerk informed me that I had no appointment. Weird indeed seeing as I had booked one on the Internet, a very impressive novelty to me that you could do that, and I would have been even more impressed if it had actually resulted in an IRL appointment. Maybe they'll get around to that part in the near future. Last time I was here I was informed that there was only on doctor in place, and so they could only take emergencies. Now she gave me a handwritten note, with an appointment at 12.50. When I logged in to my Clalit account, this information was also available there. It's a strange and beautiful world.

To make visits to my health clinic a bit more stressful, the clerks, as is the Israeli custom, are always understaffed, and are not only there to help the physically present patients but also answer the calls from all those who prefer not using the unreliable Internet booking system. This means the phones are ringing off the hook all the time. On top of which is the language problem.

Lost in translation....in so many words.

Anyone who spends a long period of time will come to a point when not knowing the language starts becoming really frustrating. You know enough of the language to get around town, but still so little that you can't really talk to people, and when you try to, a large percent of them treat you like you are an idiot or a toddler. And you patience for this situation has run out but your command of the language hasn't reached a point where you can get out of it. So there you are, with your perfect command of three languages and your University degree, getting patted on the head or snubbed at by gum-chewing high-school dropout half your age, and you feel really, really helpless. I know however from my one-year stint in Colombia that there is really nothing you can do about it, except take it like a man (or woman) and redouble your efforts at learning the language. Their are simply no other cures. In the meantime one must focus on the kind people who actually do have the patience to listen to your strange maltreatment of Lashon Hakodesh and try to make sense of what you are painstakingly trying to say.

Best case scenario the doctor will be one of those people and so I will arrive in Tsfat a few hours later than planned.

There for you. Hopefully also for me.....

The ugliest building on earth and ad hoc snapshots

2010-12-21T18:49:00.000+02:00

As far as I understand, once you own a plot of land and have secured a building permit in Israel, you can pretty much build what the hell you want on it. This gives architects and builders a very big freedom, which results in interesting, fascinating, innovative and horribly ugly buildings. Below, please find what I believe may be the ugliest building on the planet.

Now, what on earth were they thinking? First of all, you can't see anything out of the windows as they are facing the street. And second what is it supposed to look like? It has a vague similarity the the Escanian speciality "Spättekaka", with soot stains added.....

Escanian speciality

Completely Ad Hoc, if you like snacks from the plant kingdom, Israel is your place, as can be seen from the above picture from my tobacco dealer.

The below vista is the first that will greet the newcomer to Tel Aviv, capital of the state of the Jews, if he gazes right just after exiting from the maze that is Tel Aviv's central bus station. Religious as I am, I can't help appreciating the absurd humor to it...Welcome to Israel.

Kingdom of pork specializes in...I'll give you one guess.

Freedom forgotten?

2010-12-16T22:00:00.000+02:00

We seem to no longer care about freedom in the Western World. To get on an airplane we happily undergo searches, nude photographing in full body cameras and general humiliation. Smoking is forbidden in bars (where people drink ethanol!!) and kindergarten kids are made to wear helmets in the park. Soon we all have to wear helmets go take a stroll in the city. Our e-mails are read by anonymous grey people and our wires are tapped, the books we borrow in the library registred, the sites we visit on the Internet. All in the interest of safety. Our safety. We want to be safe, safe, safe. But you can be safe in prison. Prison. Or 6 feet under. And do anyone truly believe that all these cowering safety measures will save us from the reaper?

We ALL owe God one death.
All of us. And I rather live free than in prison.

Anyone remember FREEDOM? Like that? In BOLD LETTERS? It wasn't that long ago, people. I remember.

Pictures and stories

2010-12-16T20:46:00.000+02:00

So. Too many things are happening, or in any case flowing through my brain, for each and all of them to be given it's own lengthy post, although they deserve it. So I thought I'd just post a bunch of pics and let you know what they mean....

Below is the front of the Shul where I say my afternoon prayers. It's mostly comprised of Jews from Tunis and Morocco. It has a beautiful exterior in Jerusalem limestone and a Gabbai named Emil who scolds me whenever I've missed a day or two. One thing with Shuls in Europe is that they are old. Old interior, old style Aron Hakodesh, old people, old, uncomfortable benches from before WWII. I sometimes thing they are unconsciously made into memorials and witnesses of the world that was murdered by Europe. Synagogues in Israel on the other hand are new. Well lit, modernly designed, people of all ages, chairs so comfortable you risk falling asleep in them on Shabbes.

The cats. Every city in the world has a choice. Either they are full of rats or they are full of cats. Israeli cities have mostly opted for the latter, and hence have a large population of beautiful and more or less wild cats. And they are big and strong, as it's survival of the fittest. So when you go to through your garbage in the open containers (courtesy of - in Beer Sheva - Veolia, you know the dudes who run the metro in Stockholm), you risk getting a bunch of screaming cats popping out of them. In the little plaza below the building there is however an "antique" store owner who gives food and shelter to some of these cats. She is known as the Cat Lady. Yesterday I bough some "antique" Shabbes Chandeliers from Her. They might be like 40 years old. Made of copper. Green.

Someday I'll try to write something on Israeli architecture. For now I'll just say that it's comprised of an interesting hodge-podge of super modern and strange and horribly ugly and beautiful. Below some representative pics.

Chanuka. We've been celebrating Chanuka lately, a celebration of the Maccabi Brothers victory ofer the Syrian Hellenists, where the Temple was cleansed of idols and rededicated to the worship of the One God. After the victory the priests only found enough holy oil for the Golden Menorah to last one day, but through a miracle it lasted 8 days until new oil had been produced. So we light 8 candles, 1 on the first day, 2 on the second, etc...Quentin was given a free oil Chanukiah. It was of a disastrous design however, and the wicks wouldn't burn.

Rabbi Nissim lighting the Chanukkiah for his family, followed by singing and dancing with some of his 13 kids.

My adoptive family. Well, or something of the like. I've been very, very fortunate in founding a family like that of Rabbi Nissim. His door is always open like that of Abraham Avino, and he always have time for a cup of coffee, some Torah study and a cigarette. I'm there several times a week, studying, eating and just hanging out. We only communicate in Hebrew as his English actually is worse that my Heeb. His kids are a wonderful, noisy, happy and polite bunch. As soon as they get a chance they steal my cell phone and run away with it to take photos. These photos are usually not much, but a few of the (where I figure) are at least workable:-)

Orthodox Jewish families and child rearing. While I have heard stories of orthodox authoritarian families, I have never seen them. On the contrary. The happiest, most harmonious, most childish, most polite and kindest children I have ever met, I have met in Orthodox families.

My Rabbi and his wife have 13 kids. The oldest is 26 and the youngest is 3. And the children are omnipresent. And make a fantastic noise at times. The dance, study Torah, argue and keep demanding answers and interventions from their parents, not to mention help with their homework, meddling in conflicts and proofs of affection. They also very much take care of each other. And the Rabbi and his wife, with the patience of angels, oblige. What I have seen in orthodox families is this: The children have very few rules. They are allowed to be children, to spill food, to interrupt, to be loud, to have fun. All the time and everywhere. However. The few rules they have they happily respect, and almost always they do what they are being asked to. albeit often after some tweaking.

On religious families the children are not something cute in the periphery that can be tolerated as long as they don't "disturb" the adults. They are quite obviously the whole point of being alive, they are the most important part of the Jewish Home, they represent the future and the continuation of our people. And there is no TV. No DVD. No electronic baby sitters at all. The family actually spends all their time with eachother - talking, eating, arguing, laughing. And the love and patience and tolerance their parents show them, they also show to each other. The older ones are mirror images of their parents in the way they behave to their younger siblings. I used to get stressed out by the omnipresent ruckus in this family. But now it makes me feel calm. It's the ongoing sound of a loving and happy family, and I can just sit down on a chair and lean back and almost fall asleep by this sound. It's a sound of real happiness.

The sand storm finally passed. It too a good few hours to clean out all the sand flour from the apartment, that had stuck to everything everywhere.

Below your truly, bracing himself to go outside.....during said storm. Other than that the mercury keeps falling and I bought a winter jacket. You get used to the heat to the extent that you start freezing at 10 degrees....And that's all for now.

A very short comment on Islam

2010-12-13T01:20:00.000+02:00

In the wake of Sweden's first suicide bomber, the blogoshere will no doubt fill up with stupid racists and stupid apologists. While pondering their useless points of view, it may be worthwhile to keep the following facts in mind:

Most practicing and believing Muslims are not jihadists. And basically the largest part of immigrants from the Muslim world are not practicing or believing Muslims. However.

Islam has serious problems in facing the modern world. It is a conquerors religion which has no room for honorable compromise – the world is in the eyes of Islam divided in Dar-al-Islam (House of Islam) and Dar-al-Harb (House of War). Period. No grayish, boring middle ground. The exceptions to this outlook (they do exist) remain an extreme minority, aggressively disregarded by mainstream Islamic practice and theory as formulated in Mecca or Cairo.

The only ones who can change this picture are peaceful religious Muslims in the West. And so far they aren't doing it. As long as they leave the interpretative privilege in the hands of preachers and theologians in the Arab world, nothing will happen. There is a misconception among religous Muslims in the West that this is not their problem, and that they can go to Mosque on Friday and listen to the same hate sermons, or political apologetics for hands-on jihad, as do the crazies, and somehow be home free because they don't kill anyone. I blame this to a large part on an Arab culture of conformism, lethargy and obedience to authority and authoritarianism. Another misconception is that ever so many Intellectuals from the Muslim world can bring about any change. They can't. They are secular. They have as much a say in the direction of Islam as has Barak Obama. It is only and solely the religious Muslims who can.

Hamas teaching the young.

It doesn't matter how many non-believing or half-believing West-minded converts to Islam that fill the PC Media, whining about how Islam is at it's core a peaceful, yes almost radically pacifist, religion. It is simply not true. Islam has never been a peaceful religion. Islam, within 100 years of Muhammad's preaching to a small group of nomads in Mecca and Medina in present-day Saudi Arabia, conquered large part of the known world by the blade — by battle, murder, rape and forced conversion on pain of death. It is perfectly true that this conquest in time resulted in a flourishing Islamic culture in Spain and North Africa, a culture that would give us Algebra and useful numerals, and that was infinitely more tolerant than the Christianity that ruled the rest of Europe. This culture also saved for posterity the books of the great greek philosophers that the Christian cave men were burning. However, It was, and still is, the Warriors Religion par excellence. Theologically and theoretically Islam can be said to contain the concepts for the solutions to these problems, but they have not been used except in fairy speeches, of use to nobody. It's very simple, action talks, bullshit walks.

To be even clearer: Another, and even much more blood soaked religion, like Islam, spawned from Judaism, 2000 years ago. And it took the Christians some 1700 years to at least partially get their shit together and abandon their barbarism and blood thirst. Problem is though, our modern fast-paced age does not have this kind of patience. Nobody, meaning nobody, will accept another 200 years of Muslim suicide terrorism, before religious Muslims - in word an deed - loudly start asking themselves what the hell they are doing and what their leaders are saying.

It may be considered unfair that the Christians were given a longer grace period for their barbarism. But then again, the crusaders and inquisitors did not have the material privileges of today, such as the Internet, cell phones or computer. Nor the Atom Bomb.

Left wingers will no doubt claim the suicide bomber in Stockholm was a madman, possibly provoked into a psychotic state by the Islamophobia rampant in Europe (Islamophobia is indeed rampant in Europe). The fear-mongering racists will paint this as a reason to lash out at every Muslim, and portray the would-be mass murderer as the first soldier of the invading armies of suicide bombers. The liberals will be somewhere in between, stuck between a rock and a hard place, for fear of saying anything that can turn into an argument for either of the previous two. But whether suicide bomber was mentally ill or not, he would not have killed himself the way he did if he had been a Buddhist or Sikh. And as long as nobody will discuss why 100 % of all suicide bombers are religious Muslims, and as long as this will not also be intensely discussed among religious Muslims, Islamophobia will keep growing, and Islam will continue to produce martyrs.

Sand storm pics...

2010-12-12T14:32:00.000+02:00

Just looked out my window to take some photos of the sand storm, and noticed an unusually bright moon hanging over the town. Took me a while to realize it was actually the sun who's rays were so dimmed out by the blessed sun that you could actually look straight into it without hurting you eyes....below a before an after study for your contemplation.

Clear weather view from my window....

...and sand storm view from my window.

Get smart or die trying...from slipping on the muddy tiles.

2010-12-12T11:16:00.000+02:00

Some people in this building still manage to amaze me. When I went out for Shul, before sunrise, I saw one of the neighbors wet mopping the tile floor of the loft outside his door, apparently in an effort to get the sand away. I was about to ask him what the hell he was mopping away sand for, seeing as the darn sand storm had not yet subsided one iota, but then what could possible be the point of that, except to make him aware that I considered him an unbelievable Putz?

So sure enough, when I now 6 hours later came back from a diagnostic Hebrew test for another round of Ulpan, the plentiful water outside his door still hadn't dried up, seeing as Beer Sheva is not only windy, stormy and sandy, but also cold. What had happened though, obviously, was that more sand had blown in from the desert of our dreams and longings, turnings the 20 or so wet mopped meters outside his door into a bleeding, slippery mud swamp, part of which has by now entered all our apartments via our shoes. Thanks, dimwit. If I ever see you again wet mopping the tile floor in the sand storm, I shall kick you in the behind. Hard.

Mashiv HaRuach....

2010-12-11T21:08:00.000+02:00

Beginning on Schmini Atzeret, Jews start inserting the extra request Mashiv HaRuach uMorid HaGeshem in the main prayer Amida that is repeated at all three daily services. Literally translated it means "Make the wind blow and the rain fall", and the obvious reason is that now is the time when we need rain for seeds and plants to get a good harvest (and nowadays, to resupply lake Kineret with drinking water). Those who've been following this blog know that it's been the driest and warmest November since 1941 in Israel, and so far, except for the heat, December aint looking much better. But on the Mashiv HaRuach part, this Shabbes, our prayers have been answered....

There are basically three weather phenomenons that can magically make whole pieces of a city disappear. The first and most common to westerners is fog. Slightly less common is smog. The first time I witnessed the magic power of air pollution was when I had already spent a week in Santiago De Chile, capital of Chile. After a night of heavy rain I stepped out on the porch and do my amazement fount that the whole city was surrounded by the most brilliantly shining and beautiful, snow-capped mountain range, crystal clearly visible agains the clear blue sky. The rain had cleared the smog. Two days later the mountain range was gone.

Santiago on a clear day.

The third one is a sand storm. Now those of you who have only seen sand storms at the movies may think of them as hail storm of sand. The usually are not. The sand grains are so small you can't make them out, it's like sand flour. And they blow in the wind gusts and fill the air to the extent that you can't see more than 200 meters, while coloring said air slightly brown. And so the sand get's un your mouth, nostrils, lungs and everywhere else. And this is what's been the whether here for the whole Shabbes. And trust me, it't not doing wonders for my burgeoning cold....

So...dear G-d, can we please have some rain as well? Is it to much to ask for? On a related topic I hereby wish all you readers Shavua Tov. And for those of you who have Sunday off, a continued nice weekend. Me I'm starting a new Ulpan tomorrow, and even possibly has a date assuming the woman in question will get in contact, seeing as she doesn't have a phone where she can be reached. Yalla.

Chief Rabbi's and Stir-Fries and the latest from The Negev!

2010-12-04T20:46:00.000+02:00

So it's Motze Shabbat (end of Shabbat), and I've just rummaged through our papers only to find that the horrible forrest fires in the North still aren't under control. 6 years ago I attended Haifa Universities Summer Ulpan for the first time, and I have a least one friend from that time that ended up staying in Haifa. I hope she is OK. Except for the fires, I've lived through the below action points as of late.

* Spent Shabbes with my Rabbi, eating his wife's good food and drinking his booze and playin with his kids and discussing Torah. As it's Chanukah leave most of the family was gathered as his older sons had vacation from their yeshivot. We had a good time and it's striking how easy it is in this country to combine a frum life with a modern one. I'm amazed that so few people here choose not to.

* Wednesday last week I was invited to my FB friend Shaul Boaz who I've never met IRL before, as he and his girlfriend was taking the opportunity to celebrate their Eruzim (engagement) on the first day of Chanukah. So I went to Jerusalem. It was a very nice crowd that gathered but I felt a bit out of it as all his friends were 25 year old Americans. It made me feel a bit old, as well as badly anti-social. There is something with college-age middle class Americans that I can't deal with. They seem to be competing in the art of saying the most amount of words per minute. They are usually very likable, I just never know what to say in their company. I did however have a couple of interesting conversations with the guitar guy (all parties have one and I used to be one myself) and with a Sofer who was actually older than me and who left almost immediately.

Jerusalem, if I forget thee....

Chanukiya outside Jaffa Gate

* When I left the following morning I was reminded of how much I hate the "Nytorget" kind of neighborhoods (Nytorget is a park in the southern island of Stockholm), as Shalev Boaz lives in one. Basically the kind of neighborhood where people hang around in over-designed coffee shops, drive BMW's and eat "brunches" on Sunday mornings, while still believing themselves to be artists and intellectuals and keeping track of the coolest famous people while dissing American Idol fans. Arty Farty luxury Bohemians who hasn't thought a single interesting thought in ten years but still managing to fool themselves they are avant-guard, curtesy of their bookshelves being full with heavy coffee-table books full with black-and-white photos. Basically the kind of people who show up when the gentrification of the neighborhood is a known fact. To be clear, it's not really the people I dislike, but the fake and false environments that follow in their footsteps. In Hebrew it's called "falsanit". No such in Beer Sheva. Not by a long shot. Baruch Hashem.

Woke up in a.....

counterpart to.....

Nytorget in Stockholm....

Très Chique.......Meh.

* The Benji Mystery has been solved. Or rather everyones is now agreed that there wasn't much of a mystery to begin with. Benji is in South Africa fair and square, hanging out with his kids and having as far as can be determined a good time.

* The Vibe has moved in to the apartment. This truly likable man spends his time in Ulpan, or in the apartment listening to The Matrix Soundtracj at high volume in the speakers he has bought for his cellphone. He is still having conversations with his spleen, and even with the intestines of a few clients. But his vibes are good and he is a great guy. Last week I had dinner with him at Beer Shevas best kosher stir-fry place.

The Vibe enjoying his toothpick, post stir-fry orgy.

* Speaking of Americans - how do they stand moving here? The slightest hint of state involvment in the US is greeted with hysterical claims of the immediate advent of Communism. But do believe this – Israel is the DDR. If you change address, phone number or scratch your head, you can expect some non-name bureaucrat to show up and demand the you identify yourself and sign a bunch of papers. Last week one of them called on my cell phone and demanded that I give her my ID Card number. WTF?? I was seriously tempted to ask her : "If you DO have my cell phone number, how can you conceivably NOT HAVE MY ID NUMBER DUMBASS???". ID's are - after all - issued by the state....so the state shouldn't call me and ask for it. But it's Israel, no point in arguing, so I gave it to her...

* What's in a name? After long deliberation I decided to change my name to my Jewish name, fair and square, instead of going with one of the compromises I've been considering. I am who and what I am in any case, a son, a brother, a friend. I'm not my name. And if I'm gonna live here, I might as well have one that Israelis will know how to spell.

* The Kotel (or as the xstians horribly call it, the "Wailing wall"). So I was in Jerusalem, but I didn't really have the energy to go to the Kotel. In any case I ended up in The Old City anyway, and so I went down there to say Aravit. The place was almost empty except for a minyan in the one corner. I started davening, and I noticed the Shaliach Shibour (The Prayer Leader), was using a microphone. After a while I looked to him, and Lo and Behold! - the dude leading the prayer was the Sephardic Chief Rabbi of Israel, Shlomo Amar! I managed to snap a few (bad) photos when he and his bodyguards left. An amazing experience no doubt.

Rav Shlomo Amar leaving after...

...leading Aravit prayers by the Kotel.

* Went to Meah Shearim, the Charedi (Ultra-Orthodox) Neighborhood in Jerusalem. Managed to get hold of a Machzor set and Sephardic woollen Arba Kanfot (it's slowly getting colder here, at least by night).

Wall Newspapers in Meah Shearim

Well, that's about it, except that Ulpan ended with a finals exam where the Russians cheated themselves blue in the face, to what end I have no idea. Everyone is talking about the draught which is the worst since 1941, along with the warmest November since said month. We dearly. dearly need rain, and not just to put out the fires in the North.

Leaving the din of Ir HaKodesh...

And going home to the Negev....seated on the entrance stair

after a short shouting match who didn't want to let me on
the over packed bus.

Full body cameras and voodoo

2010-11-25T09:54:00.000+02:00

Since the horrible terrorist attack of 9/11, flying has gone from being a slight hassle to a rather big one. The latest chapter in the saga over ever stranger security measures is the installation in all larger US airports of "Full Body Cameras", basically a camera that strips you of your clothes and shows your naked body to the security official on duty. A lot has been said about these cameras. I personally believe they are thoroughly intrusive. If you don't agree with me, it's probably because mainstream media for some odd reason never bothered to publish the true images these machines make, and opted to publish tacitly redacted versions, where the naked bodies shown look like barbie dolls, and where any detailed body features have beed dimmed out. However, five minutes with Google will show you that these cameras take detailed images of your genitalia, including intimate piercings and,well..the form and size of your equipment, female or male, for lack of a more tzniut way of putting it. Including recognizable facial features. So after being forced to remove your shoes and being robbed of your chap stick and your after shave, you are now being expected to pose for nude photos. That is the clear cut truth. The elephant in the room is too obvious – when will exhausted, delayed and insulted airline commuters stand up and scream "Enough is enough!"?

Flying was always one of the safest activities you could experience. Even during the roaring 70's, when the PLO and other crazies hijacked anything they could lay their hands on, flying was still immensely more safe than driving your car to work, having a shower or simply taking a nice stroll in the local park. The risks of having to endure a highjacking was exceedingly low even in a time when getting a gun onto an airplane was a fairly easy thing to pull. So why is it that our security concerns surrounding air traffic is bordering on hysteria? Many reasons might be cited, such as the feeling of being out of control when on an airplane, as opposed to the decidedly false sense of security and control when driving your car. But the truth is, non of these reasons are rational.

There are hundreds of "soft" targets for terrorists to attack, even in a country like Israel, obsessed as it is with security. Trains, concert and sport venues, political gatherings such as demonstrations or sit-ins, company workshops, malls, the list is endless. And no matter what we do, this will always be the case. Because if we imposed the kind of security strictures on all human mass activity as we do on air traffic, the world as we know would come to a halt. And the terrorists would have won. Airports have become voodoo shrines where we sacrifice our personal integrity and honor to unknown deities, in a vain attempt to appease our fears and our sense of insecurity, caused by our being mortals in an insecure world. Rationality is thrown to the dogs when we install full body cameras that can only reasonably uncover hidden arms, something metal detectors have already been doing for 50 years. But the truth is, that any security we may hope for, lies in your fellow human beings. The overwhelming majority of the human race is not prepared to commit mass murder for any political goal, faith or idea, irrespective of their ethnicity, religion or geographical background. And no matter how much security we put in place, this will always remain the main reason why terror attacks are so relatively rare.

Now, I'm not saying we should do away with airport security. I too feel safer knowing that all passengers have to pass metal detectors and that intelligence organizations are keeping tabs on crazies, political fanatics and self appointed world saviors . But I am saying enough is enough. I do not want pictures of my privates or those of my wife to be on display for some bored college drop-out, nor saved for posteriority together with millions of others in ever growing data archives (Yep, I know what they say. They are lying. Security organizations always save their finds, with or without the explicit consent of their governments. And if they didn't, from where do these pictures leak in the thousands?). These cameras are an insult. Period. Enough is enough.

the girl from the lost and found department

2010-11-25T00:17:00.000+02:00

she comes to me in a dream
i hear the echoing whispers of her sneakers in the
old abandoned storage building

dusty cardboard boxes, coffins and long since forgotten luggage
destinations never reached in times since long ago committed to
memories in black and white

i find her by a desk going through an old ladies handbag in white leather
the black, heavy bakelite phone looks like it hasn't rung for ages

she lifts here gaze and tells me: welcome to the lost and found department
of Long Lost Railroads and forsaken dreams - how can I help you?

when I don't answer, she turns back to the handbag, pulls out a handkerchief
i am about to ask her if she works here when she says: you shouldn't be here
this late

if you stay too long, you stay forever, it's time for you to leave
I say: what about you? she says: you lost me a long time ago, i already left
I want to ask her if she recognizes me, but as she dials a number on the phone

i hear the lower east side harbor din and distant christmas carols
bowery
the multicolored snowflakes swirling in the biting ellis island onshore wind
on delancey street, a bearded face, pointing toward the rusty bridgehead, he says:

that is where you're headed, see you on the other side

I see her still sometimes in lonely allies and in dreams
she's always in a rush, pushing the white handbag close to her
she never sees me

and we never speak

The elephant herd in the room...

2010-11-24T20:13:00.000+02:00

Writing or speaking of Israel and it's conflict with it's Arab neighbors, about the "occupation" or occupation, the Palestinians or "palestinians", the territories or Judea and Samaria, and lately a more and more towards Israel hostile Western world – in short what in Israel is referred to as "Ha Matzav" (The Situation) – is to a large extent like walking on quick-sand wearing ice skates over the slippery slopes of the abyss of your choice. There are many reasons for this. First of all the topography of these processes actually is horribly complicated. Second, not one single piece of reality is considered an established fact by any of the parties involved, and every fact presented by one side will immediately be decried as a preposterous propagandistic lie by the other side, which brings us to the third problem: Irrespective of what droves of Anti-Israel thinkers, and unfortunately the current US administration, believes, this is not rational USA or UK, this is the Wild, Wild Middle East, where politicians, religious authorities and military spokespersons, down to the depressed Arab who rents an equally depressed camel for photos with visitors to the Olive Mount, will lie, lie, lie with out blinking. About everything. To themselves and to others.

And when it comes to Europe's and the US' lacking understanding of the Israeli position, another problem is deeply worrying - Israel's failure to explain to the world that the conflict is - at the very least - threefold:

1) First, we have the conflict between two peoples wishing to realize their nationalistic aspirations in the same, minuscular plot of overcrowded land. This is the European and US understanding of the problem, the understanding of Israel's far left, and the one who has given rise to the idea of the Two State Solution. The PLO has of late, at least in English, given lip service to this understanding as well. As have different Israeli leaders.

2) The conflict is also the Arab world's conflict with what they consider an insult to their honor – a Jewish state. One of the many ethnic minorities that for a thousand years had been living in the Arab world at the mercy of Arab whims, have had the gaul to break free and create a state right under their noses, a state that in only 60 years have become more successful than any modern Arab state.

3) The religious and cultural conflict where in the eyes of Islamic interpretation, a geographic part of the Islamic Dar-Al-Islam (House of Islam) has been converted into Dar-Al-Harb (House of War).

While European and US critics of Israel only recognize the existence of the first of these conflicts, where Israel to some extent can be considered the stronger party, Israelis – for reasons of self-preservation – tend to be more worried about the latter two. The Arab and Palestinian leaders are more difficult to understand. In English, they show most interest in the first conflict, but in Arabic as well as in action, they focus more on the latter two as well. This is the reason why Arafat told Clinton and Barack to "Go to hell!!" after Camp David II, and the reason why the Palestinian negotiators has turned down every offer since. It is also the reason why Abu Mazen runs to the Arab League to get every little detail in the negotiations approved – he sees himself primarily as negotiating for The Arab Nation, not for his Palestinian people.

There is a lovely American expression about something being "The elephant in the room", meaning the glaringly obvious thing that no one talks about. As for the current negotiations, or rather non-negotiations, there is a whole herd of elephants being tacitly ignored by left, right, Obama, Arabs and Israelis. I'm not certain that a negotiated peace will be forever impossible, but the already mentioned, as well as below elephants, make me absolutely certain the the current US sponsored pressure to resume negotiations is an absolute waste of time.

1) Nobody except Obama wants them. Benjamin Netanyahu is not Arik Sharon or Yitzchak Rabin. He does not have the inner strength to change his mind on the nature of the conflict, nor does he have the political strength to take on the rightist opposition in his own party, an even less to out-manouver Lieberman's ever more outrageous positioning to become the rights crown prince in the next elections. As for Abu Mazen, he ignored the build freeze in the territories for 9 whole months, in order to not have to go down in history as the Palestinian leader who compromised with the holy Right of Return and with Jerusalem. He then got on the bandwagon with one month left, knowing full well that the build freeze would not be renewed. He is currently doing everything he can to force the US into a version of a renewed build stop that Netanyahu will not be able to accept. Abu Mazen is working on his legacy, fully aware that he has almost no public support, and couldn't sell a peace deal to his people even if his life depended on it. This is why he consistently is doing everything he can to persuade the Israeli public of his lacking intentions, the latest prank was to send out one of his mouth pieces to claim that the Western Wall is a Muslim, and not a Jewish, shrine.

2) Elephant numero due - Gaza and Hamas. It is a truly fascinating fact that whether you choose to listen to the liberal Thomas Friedman in the New York Times or to rightists such as Moshe Arens in Haaretz, they are all speaking and analyzing about "The Peace Process" as if Hamas and Gaza didn't exist. But even if Abbas was Mandela and Netanyahu was King Samuel, what exactly would a peace deal with only the West Bank entail? Gaza would still be run by religious fascists, armed to the teeth, keeping 1.5 million palestinians hostage, and ready to shell Israel to make sure any peace deal wouldn't last. Which is really the incentive for Israel to give up land for peace when Israel would know for certain that it would not lead to peace?

2) And Hamas again....Hamas did not only win the last parliamentary elections with votes from Gaza. They also won in the West Bank, including in Jerusalem. The fact that Abu Mazen and Fatah is still in power there is a result of massive economic and military support from the US, not of popular support from the Palestinians. If a Palestinian state should be forced on the parties by the US, then this state would in all probability be taken over by Hamas within a year or two. And that would lead war, and most probably a re-occupation at a very steep price in human life and suffering.

Rabbi Menachem Froman, peace activist and settler Rabbi

As far as I see it, the current process has turned into nothing but a blame game, where both sides are maneuvering to make any real results impossible, while avoiding to draw the ire of the American President. And chances that such a game would yield anything but disappointment and possibly renewed rounds of violence are very, very limited. This is not to say that the situation is hopeless. Intellectuals both left and right, Jews and Arabs, are getting more and more clear that the other side is not going to disappear, and are thinking about new ways to understand the problem. And as usual, the people are often better than their leaders. So Arabs and Jews and Settlers and Palestinians keep rubbing against each other in Supermarkets, Shuks, NGO:s and settlements, and mostly refrain from killing each other, sometimes even becoming friends.

Shabat Shalom...

2010-11-19T15:43:00.000+02:00

Not much happening around here today. Fridays are off for most people in Israel nowadays, including for Ulpan students. Spent the day re-reading Too-Soon-Old-Late-Smart. You'd might call it Self-Hellp literature, but it's completely devoid of happy-go-lucky bullshit advice and self-centered shallowness, and it doesn't serv up any easy solutions to complex problems.. I hate Self Help literature. It's an account of 30 clearcut truths that a psychiatrist named Livingston has extracted over a life's experience of his patients and their therapy, as well as from it's own life, which has been really difficult in many aspects. First time I read it I got pretty upset with the author, because he kindly but firmly discard all our excuses for not leading better lives. The main thrust is that we can't wait around until we feel better to change our lives, because we can not intellectually think ourselves happier, feelings and thoughts and self-perceptions follow behavior, not the other way around. This means that in order to feel better, to get rid of unwanted thoughts and be happier, we need to act and we need to take risks. Our feelings will follow accordingly. Now if this sounds like self-help crap, it's because it's a short description. The book as such is bordering on plain wise, and I really recommend it, it's a worthwhile read.

Other than that The Vibe has moved into Benjys vacated room, this way we are avoiding the risk that some ham-consuming, vodka-drinking Russian 25-year old will be placed there. The Vibeman, if not very religous, knows what is kosher and what not. Both him and Quentin are away to TA and J-town respectively.

Speaking of action, it's time to shave, shower, light the Shabbes candles and head to shul. Shabbat Shalom.

The Benjy mystery

2010-11-16T12:03:00.000+02:00

Haven't had time to report the daily do's and dont's in Beer Sheva lately, so here are a few assorted action shots...

The Benjy mystery. After once again deciding to go back to South Africa, Benjy finally left his warmly hated Beer Sheva a week ago. The day after that he was back here again, telling people that he had managed to miss his flight by confusing AM and PM. The next night he managed to miss another flight due to Ethiopian Air demanding twice the ticket prize as when he did the booking The next night, and as far as is understood, he actually got on a plane tho South Africa. Or did he? Rumors that he is hiding out in Tel Aviv abound. Different theories are floated. Someone has managed to get hold of him on his Israeli number. The mystery thickens. Wherever you are Bru, I hope you are having a Joll. We miss you:-)

David Peru and Benjy having a joll...

Shabbes evening. Was spent with Jochanan, his wife and his three kids. Mayanan, his 2 year old daughter, refused to go to sleep and spent the evening as a heat seeking robot, set on serious balagan making. She managed to spill an interesting assortment of liquids, candy and foods on the floor, uncork a can of dill and pouring it out and making figures with it on the kitchen floor (out of sight, only 15 minutes she was very, very quiet), soil herself to the extent that she had to go through three different outfits during the evening like some Britney Spears (Shabbes dress, PJ 1 and PJ 2) and feeding me with different kinds of foods (she loves feeding people, I once had to eat half a pack of cheese doodles, I hate cheese doodles, just to keep her happy). But except for an attention junkie she is also horribly cute and playful, she looks like a bookmark angel with her curly blond hair and blue eyes. It was a fun night, and it made me long for a family of my own.

Shabbes evening 2. Coming back to the apartment I bumped into Quentin outside Davids apartment, where him and David Peru was drinking vodka and chilling. Quentin had spent the evening at the Rabbi and completely ignored my advice to stay off the booze. He was d-r-u-n-k beyond recognition,making strange sounds and communicating via shouts, very happy, no doubt. At one point he leaned over the loft railing to scream something unintelligible to a gan of you Russians passing in the street below. Fortunately they didn't notice it. Some of the Russian kids here has absolutely no sense of humor. I managed after a while to lure him back home where he promptly went to bed. I then sat down in the kitchen to study some Torah in peace and quiet, but soon gave it up because of the haunting sound coming out through Quentin's locked door, of Quentin lying in bed pretending to be a Ferrari, running the engine and going up and down on the gears through some dreamt up Nürenberg Ring. Wether he was awake or not no one shall never know, as the following day would be one of amnesia. The morning after his room looked like a battlefield and he had a very bad bruise on his right knee and part of his desk was demolished. For reasons best left to the readers imagination he had apparently felt the need to clean his room in somewhere the middle of the night, with slightly disastrous results. Of this cleaning effort he had no recollection when he woke up, alert as a Zombie. Nor of the previously mentioned Ferrari related activities.

Grave-hopping. So yesterday the plan was to get to bed early, a plan that was shattered when the Rabbanit called and asked me and Quentin to come over to the Rabbi's house later to celebrate the latter's birthday. So around 8.30 we went there and I was introduced to a fantastic old Rabbi named Jochanan, who had spent most of his life business traveling, living all over the world, until he and his wife decided to retire in Israel. Born in Holland to a Yemenite father and a Moroccan mother sometime in the 20's. He once had spent 1 day in Stockholm, Lidingö to be exact, in 1957, and he still remembered a few phrases in perfect Swedish. He also remembered that you could take a street car to Lidingö. I informed him that the street cars had been shut down in the late 60's. So we had a really good time, eating and talking and drinking, and when it was time to leave, the Rabbi insisted that we had to go pray at the graves of some of the local Tzaddikim. So we packed into his Huyyndai mini bus and went to the cemetery and prayed at the grave sites of three different local Gdolim. Of course, when we finally got back to the apartment around 1 AM, I couldn't fall asleep. Tossed and turned. My brain was adamant, it kept trying to come up with a great idea for a shoestring budget zombie movie.... Meh! Anyone wants to switch brains with me?

You may well wonder..

Any way that's about it. Time for more Hebrew passive verbs. In hoveh, avar and atid...

A matter of elevation

2010-11-15T18:34:00.000+02:00

When I arrived here almost 3 months ago, an elevator had just been installed in the building in a free standing shaft on the outside of the facade. Up until then, all the thousands of immigrants who had been coming and going had been forced to schlepp their kids, furniture and merchandise in the stairs, 4 floors. The news was detailed in an announcement in the office, and among other things it pointed out that no kids under the age of 14 were allowed to use the elevator on their own.

Last week, the elevator worked for a whole of 2 days. The main reason for this is the fact that as soon as one of the plentiful toddlers here learns to walk, the other kids take him to the elevator and show him how to play with it. You go up and down, you press the "open door" and "close door" buttons in random order and you shove something in the door when it's closing, forcing the doors sensor to reopen it. Again and again. If you are really brave you shove yourself in the closing door.

So our elevator gets overworked and depressed and go on strike. Usually it's either stuck on the bottom with it's doors closed. Or it's stuck on the 1 floor, spastically opening and closing its doors. Forever. Days at a time. And obviously the peeps running this place – not even in the regular case a very ambitious crowd – get less and less interested in keeping the elevator running. After all, they don't live here. The single best explanation for how most things work in this place.

But the poor elevator has more problem than the kids. Adults are constantly using it as a cargo truck, hoisting furniture, garbage and all kinds of apparatus in it, cramming it full and pushing it to the limits. After only 2 weeks the fake bulging glass ceiling was cracked in a number of places, and the walls were scratched and dirty.

Finally the elevator itself needs to take some of the blame. If anyone with brains had ordered the elevator, they would have ordered a sturdy model, with a door that is closed manually, with no fake glass ceiling and no buttons to close or open the door. Basically the kind of elevator you usually put in a house that looks like a Soviet 1960's concrete suburb – a cargo elevator.

Instead however, they installed a fake 5 star hotel lobby elevator, complete with elevator music and a female and slightly suggestive voice calling out which floor you're on in grammatically incorrect Hebrew, as if you'd get lost among the 2 floors (It's actually 4 but it only stops at two...). Basically, the elevator of the world renowned brand Edunburg (yes....with a "U") is a hunk of garbage dressed up as a party crasher, dreaming it was installed in The Sheraton. The golden sign with the Edunburg logo used to have a bow of glass diamonds under it. It's indicative of the classiness of some of the peeps living here that only 2 of the diamonds are still up for stealing.

On the flip side, the constant maltreatment of the elevator first killed off the music, and after a few more bangs and bumps and schlepping in the stairs, the female voice with the bad Hebrew had called out her last floor, never to be heard from again. The chances I will outlive this elevator in Merkaz Yeelim are considerable...

No Sleep 'til Hammersmith...

2010-11-08T08:12:00.000+02:00

..is not just Motörheads legendary and masterful Live LP from their Short, Sharp Pain In The Neck tour (where funnily enough, they didn't gig the Hammersmith Odeon venue in London). It also fairly accurately describes how you feel after no sleep at all - like a blacksmith put you on his smoking anvil and slegdehammered you flat as a frying pan. All fun and games and I can't even blame it on insomnia this time. I simply got lost in the technical aspects of the blogoshere and the time ran away between RSS feeds and blocker cookies...until it was 4.30 AM and Quentin had a cough attack of outer-wordly proportions and staggered out of his room, a blueish-reddish tint on his face. He has some kind of chest infection, poor man. And as if that wasnät enough he managed a backward swan-dive this past Shabbes, landing on the back of his head, and was knocked out cold. When he came about I after 15 seconds or so I had already started CPR....he scared the crap out of me. Dude needs to see a doctor.

Lemmy riffin' it....

Anyhow I gave up any ambitions to sleep, and while Mr Q went back to sleep, I took off for Shul, prayed and said Halel for the new month of Kislev - Chodesh tov peeps! Then a round to my French coffee lady on the plaza but there was nobody to talk to and the mornings are getting chilly in Beer Sheva so I went back to the dear apartment. And so here I am, trying to write something worth your time and focus, while at the same time pondering the Shidduch crisis. No, not the postmodern heep of junk that is frantically being debated among the frumsters in every corner of the Digital Highway (whatever happened to that expression??), but my own personal Shidduch crisis. My lack of female company, that is. Celibacy to be blunt. I guess having been single most of my adult life, you'd get used to it, and you do, no doubt. But sometimes it simply strikes you how incredibly boooooring single life actually is, even more so when you long since lost the taste for partying and club-hopping, if you ever had such a taste. All your friends are married with kids and incapable of talking about anything else than measles, kindergarten methodology and different poop qualities, and should you by any chance get a chance to meet them, they will get this blank facial expression as soon as the discussion doesn't orbit around their beloved offspring, and mid-sentence they will scramble and disappear to tell Lisa not to steal Anna's doll and well......should you venture to go to a disco just for a little company, the girls will look at you as were you a pathetic human being who should playa' within your own age-bracket and.....the'll be partly right. Not that I've been to a disco in this millennium, but still.

Nothin' for old geezers....

So anyway I've got a blind date tomorrow. I'm heading up to Jerusalem to have a coffee with a Swiss lady, and even though I for different reasons don't believe in it at all, I'm looking forward to an opportunity to sharpen my social skills, and she sounded nice on the phone. After that a new acquaintance - Nicole - is picking me up for dinner in Jerusalem with her and her boyfriend, to which I must remember to buy some wine. Then she is going to have a Laughter Yoga Workshop that I'm going to photograph for her website. Mental note to self: REMEMBER TO CHECK BATTERY AND BRING CAMERA! OK, 8 AM, time for Ulpan class, so I'm leaving you with these tips for the day coach!

Listen to: Seether (Song, Veruca Salt), Time The Revelator (Song, Gillian Welsh), No Sleep 'Til Hammersmith (Live LP, Motörhead)
Read: The Plague (Novel, Albert Camus), Introducing...(Blog, Yours truly)
Watch: When Harry met Sally (movie), Love Actually (movie), Achmed The Dead Terrorist (YouTube clip)
Salute frase of the day: Chodesh Tov!
Do: Take care of yourselves and be nice to each other.

Lateööör, dudes.

”To feel shitty about yourself in Paris..

2010-11-07T15:54:00.000+02:00

...is the same as feeling shitty 'bout yourself in Stockholm.”

The quote is from a song by Swedish Painter/Comedian/Singer-songwriter Robert Broberg and he should know, alternating successful shows and selling out sports venues, with periods of bad depressions. He has also spent large amount of time in exile, more specifically in Paris and New York City.

Robert Broberg, World champion of bad puns.

And basically it's just that simple. Wherever you go you take yourself with you, and the dream of becoming someone else by going to a new place remains a dream, and if you can't shake that dream and focus on reality, then changing city, work or country will eventually become a disappointing experience. I come to think of this when I bump into Ron at the laundromats. 3 out of 4 machines have big white notes on them with the text ”לא עובד!”, and my plan to finally get some washing done is immediately reduced to ashes. So Ron starts on a never ending litany of how he's been waiting in line for the 1 working machine for 1,5 hours and how the expletive people running this place are a bunch of incompetent bastards. But it doesn't stop there. He goes on to putting down everything and anything in Israel: The girls have their nose in the air, Israelis are shallow, they have no culture, they are close-minded and so on...all compared to his native USA. I try to interject some nice things about Israel, and he nods his head vaguely and say something like "sure I've met some nice people here, but they are one in a million" and "fine, there are some good ones I met but they are all trying to get out of this hell hole and leave for the US", and then he goes back to listing all the flaws of Israel as compared to The Land of the Free. There are 2* very typical species of Liberal Middle Class Americans, and Ron is typical of the kind that for some reason thinks it is impressive to speak very, very fast without ever taking a breath or giving pause to let someone else be a part of the conversation. It may have to do with The West Wing having been the cultural and political awakening of their lives. But while Aaron Sorkins master script was replete with people talking fast and using big words, the sentences they put together was also intelligent. Ron and his partners in crime were deep down in Mariguana heaven when the had their DVD box marathon evenings, and only caught on to the idea of speaking, really, really fast. And to whine about everything. So after 10 minutes in his company I'm starting to feel slightly suicidal...but I make a final effort to talk about something else, like his beloved USA:

”OK, so where are you from, Ron?"

”San Francisco"

”Aha, you said you had a college degree, what did you do in the US?"

"I grew weed, mostly. Yeah, and I was stoned for about 10 years and when you tell people here they're like ”Hey, that's so cool man!”

He lights up another fag on the but of the first one and I can't stand it any more so I tell him good buy mid sentence and run back to my Ulpan class. Reading dear ol' Ron is fairly straightforward. He hasn't had a great life. He is sort of good looking in an All-American way, but he doesn't have the social skills to match it, and comes off as a bit awkward. And when people around him decides it time to grow up, cut your hair and get a job he decides to go to Israel. And he ends up in a small desert town where nobody speaks English or understands his Claim-To-Cool....basically the man feels rejected and so he starts putting everything around him down, and nobody really takes his claims seriously because his critique rings shallow. And everyone who's been in Cali for more than a few days knows that it's everything he declares to hate about Israel.

But I can't help thinking that Ron is mostly a caricature of what a lot of us 350 immigrants are feeling. 15 years ago I could have been a Swedish version of Ron. And even if all of us didn't come here expecting a personal catharsis, the girls to be more loving or the culture to be less shallow, all of us came here with one question at the core of our reasons to make Aliya: Can we please belong here? Can we play with you? Can you please welcome us, give us a little encouragement?

The author, 40 k:s younger....

And like all other places, Israel is tough to charm, and the lot of most immigrants is, among many other things, the sensation of alienation. You don't speak the language, and the vast majority of the natives will not have the patience to listen to you fumbling attempts at speaking Hebrew. All the things you take for granted, like friends who know who you are since you were that girl/guy with pimples and thick glasses you are trying to gorget, are suddenly all gone and you're in an environment where nobody knows of you times at the botten, or of the times when you shone brighter than the sun. It's a freedom of course, but also a very lonely freedom. So we are somehow all being Ron, and we are all the new kid in the class who on his first school break walk over to a group of children and asking: "What are you doing, can I play with you?" And as everyone knows, it's the scariest question of all.

Of course, there are many things that are wonderful about being here, and many things that can help all of us Ronses. One is being prepared for it to be hard, and expect it to take a lot of time to bit by bit expanding you personality to cover an Israeli one. And another is doing the exact opposite of Ron - concentrating on the new things we like, in my case the strange anarchy that is present in every Israeli situation, being able to daven in a Mizrachi Shul, having found a Rabbi who is treating me like a son, and also having met already several people I'm sure I'll know even better in ten years. To do that you need to be open enough to like that things are new, which in turn requires that you are satisfied with yourself enough to forgive you're inner Ron for the bullshit he produces to excuse that he's to scared to say: "Can I play with you?"

And mature enopugh to happily accept the fact that ”To feel shitty about yourself in Paris, is the same as feeling shitty 'bout yourself in Stockholm.”

*Ah....the other type? He is much alike the first type but is concentrating on speaking really slowly, trying to sound a little mysterious, and using even bigger words to trash the US. Common for both types is that they at the age of 30 still consider themselves "kids", and that they smoke way to much pot. And if you didn't know that: Pot in large quantities is a superb deppresant, which is the reason why so many potheads have such an incredibly gllomy outlook on life. So kids - one spliff a months maximum! And for all you US patriots out there, there is a large amount of European caricatures walking the earth:)

Time to shut down the UN?

2010-11-04T00:31:00.000+02:00

This summer the civilized world has anxiously followed the case of Sakineh Ashtiani, an Iranian woman sentenced to be murdered by stoning on trumped up charges. Public pressure conducted by different NGO:s in July postponed the murder, but the last days we've been reached by information that her murder may once again be imminent. To participate in the online information campaign, please go here.

At the same time Fox News informs us (those of you who feel skeptical of Fox reporting can check up the original UN ECOSOC document here and search for Iran) that Iran has been elected into, and given 4 seats in, the United Nations Commission on the Status of Women, a Human Rights organization tasked with - you guessed it - worldwide improvement of the situation and status of women. If you so wish, a feminist organization. Now which part of stoning women or harassing them in the streets for being "immodest" does the UN organization perceive as feminist? The devil knows.

The UN was from a realpolitical perspective constructed to broker the public part of the terror balance created by The Yalta Conference and the outcome of WWII and it's rise to superpower status of the USA and the Soviet Union. It would also help with the dismantling of an outdated colonial system and it's more disastrous consequences, particularly in Africa. From an idealistic viewpoint it was also created to make this world a better place, although the value of having the most tyrannic dictatorships sign The Universal Declaration of Human Rights is questionable, even more so when it was fairly clear from the outset that both The US and The Soviets would support their own tyrannical states as they saw fit.

However, the bipolar terror balance is long since replaced by a monopolar world, where the US hegemon is slowly loosing in relative power to the ascending powers of China, Russia and India, most obviously in economical terms, but also militarily. And the UN has failed to find itself a new role, possibly with the exception of The Security Council, but then again, The Security Council is by no way a democratic institution, and could easily be lifted out of the UN framework.

At the same time, it's very obvious that The General Assembly, The UNHSCR and now the UNCSW, is becoming a propaganda tool and publicity stunts arena for Theocratic Fascists, Tyrants and Political Charlatans. The UNHSCR currently contains the following Human Rights loving regimes: Saudi Arabia, Libya, Turkey and China. We are basically seeing a development where UN member countries with the worst Human Rights records imaginable are trying to set the agenda (usually that everything is Israel's fault) within the UN:s human rights organizations. It would seem then that any idealistic reasons for keeping this massive machine going is deeply flawed. An hence the question arises: Is it time to dismantle The United Nations?

Infidels

2010-11-01T22:47:00.000+02:00

Listening to Susanne Vega and conjugating future tense I'm reminded of Infidels. Not as in the kind that gets blown up by crazy Islamists, but as in the record released by Bob Dylan in 1983. I remember when it came out, these were the days of LP's, and the cover had a portrait of a melancholic looking Dylan, with a scroungy, short beard and Ray Ban Wayfarers, no doubt the coolest sun glasses of the time. A very different time, and I was 13 years old and I was looking at the record where it stood in it's stand. It cost like 10 bucks which to me at the time was a lot of money. It was the day before my father's 43rd birthday. I decided to buy it for him. As far as I remember he liked it, but as with many other of the musicians I liked, I ended up listening to it a lot more than he did. The music matched the cover; melancholic, sharp, distinct, sometimes bordering on angry.

The record would follow me when I left home and it would follow my ups and downs, drunken bouts, smashed up relationships (Jokerman, License to kill), spiritual searches and moves from one second-hand apartment to the next. Until my last vinyl player decided to cash out about 5 years ago, and eventually ended up in a garbage container with all other plastic hearts of my childhood and youth.

I'm not sure why I came to think of it right now. Maybe because I'm feeling a bit melancholic. I'm in Israel and I guess the first layer of novelty is wearing off with the knowledge that I have to decide what is next after Ulpan ends in a month. Or maybe because I'm in Israel which, absurdly enough, seems to be the most hated country in the world at presently, and Infidels contain one of the most eloquent, and angry, defenses for this Jewish homeland that remains an invisible speck on a world map - 'Neighborhood bully':

Well, the chances are against it and the odds are slim
That he’ll live by the rules that the world makes for him
’Cause there’s a noose at his neck and a gun at his back
And a license to kill him is given out to every maniac
He’s the neighborhood bully

It's a long and brilliant text you can find it in it's entirety here. Or maybe it's just what we all are in this country: Infidels. Infidels to the crushing universalistic demands of Christianity, Infidels to the conqueror push of Islam, Infidels to the age-old view of the Jew as a weakling, forever doomed to wander the hostile and "settled" earth, with no roots and no loyalties. Or maybe it's me, and Infidel to the country that I left, a country who mistakenly sees itself as a World Conscious.

Infidels was also the first "Jewish" record after Dylan had penned three Born-Again Christian records. He said in an Interview that he wasn't sad he had "tried to save a few souls"....Me I'm happy he gave it up, there are enough crazy missionaries in the world as it is and Bob Dylan's Christian period wasn't much to be inspired by anyway.

Me? Guess it's back to Beauty and Crime and Hebrew verb conjugations. I don't have time to be melancholic, and even less to write about the complete mess that is Israel, peace process, Arabs and Europe's pathological mix of ignorance, paternalism and fixation when it comes these shennanigans.

By the way, if you still haven't discovered that Susan Vega is far more than the one-hit wonder 'Luka' and 'Tom's Diner', her 2007 album ¨Beauty and Crime' is a fantastic place to start. It's a ver personal trip to her native NYC in the shade of The Twin Tower Bombings of 2001, and a masterpiece no less. 'Ludlow Street' is enough to make a grown man cry.

Completely off topic can be told that the apartment have been calm and without invasion of potheads, and that the weather is getting colder every day. Or rather, I've gotten used to feeling cold whenever the mercury drops under 25. Which it does every night nowadays. For you poor sods who are languishing under the harsh rule of Swedish falls, you may find comfort in the world of Gaming. An old friend of mine, since childhood seller extraordinaire of console and computer games, is about to start up a budget Web Shop where you can bye all your hearts desire: www.budgetgames.se

And I find it infinitely hard to understand that I'm only three years younger than my father was when I was standing at that record store stand, deciding wether I had the money to buy him Infidels for his 43rd birthday. In a very different time.

One of those days...

2010-10-28T20:39:00.000+02:00

Woke up too late after 2 nights of insomnia, courtesy of the Cheech & Chongs of the world as well as my incapacity to discipline my living patterns. Got out of bed and felt completely out of it and went down for coffee and cigarettes and Ulpan, this day lead by the Director, Nissim, who speaks so fast and rushes through each new segment of the lecture it makes your head spin. One good things is that we spent the second lesson in the computer lab, which also serves as the Merkaz bomb shelter (we are in shooting distance from Gaza...), to work on the blessed Hebrew verb conjugations, and this time I successfully wrote down the the web address to the FREE online training site, hosted by Haifa University. On a note that I managed not to loose that is, so here it goes:

http://mkm-haifa.co.il/ulpanim/

I strongly recommend it for anyone studying Hebrew. It gives you the opportunity to train all binyanim in all tenses, with gradually harder targilim.

The day went on being one of those that you fight through rather than just live. Overtired and out of it. Like swimming in syrup upstreams. I did however manage to remember the Yaarseit in Geula Shul, one of the two Sephardic Synagogues I frequent. I even forced myself through my weight lifting exercise, doing push-ups, triceps dips and biceps curls, with the metal guest bed serving as barbell. I've decided that the belly is up for termination, as well as my 80-year old's physical shape.

Geula Synagogue

Well, then. Homework time. I hear the din of a party brewing drifting through my closed door, along with a unmistakable smell of burning incense, portable headache. And Cannabis Sattiva. More portable headache. They still here in 3 hours, someone is getting murdered.

Cheech and Chong and my nights sleep up in smoke

2010-10-27T23:23:00.000+02:00

So this day went straight to the dogs. Not one useful accomplishment. The night before I only slept for 2 hours so I had planned for an early night, and so went to bed at 10 PM. Was however awoken by roaring laughter and and hysterical screaming 45 minutes later, outside my bedroom door, inter-punctuated by the sound of someone sounding like he was coughing up his lunges.

”You serious maaaan?? You are coughin' yourself to death and now want to smoke more??"

"Hell, yeah, man! Let's light it up!"

Later on, two Arnold Schwartznegger's, one with a high-pitched voice and another with a base vibrato, was battling it out, screaming orders to "Get ze hell out of hiere!" and "This ting is gaaana blooow!!". Accompanied by applause, shouts and whistles and someone sounding like a Formula 1 Car. The unbelievable ruckus continued until about 1 AM and by then I was exhausted, pissed off and doomed to another night of insomnia. At about 5 AM I got up to have something to eat with the hope tha a "night" snack might make me able to fall asleep. There was only one of my Pitas left. I opened the fridge. Like I suspected, my 1 kg bag of kosher sausages was badly decimated. Someone's had munchies. Meh. I ate my pita wiht the remaining hummus and managed to sleep for 2 hours....

Protagonists of a less likely explanation...

After one hour in Ulpan I had to give up, I couldn't understand what anyone was saying, so I dropped my bewildered drill intructress a note (in Hebrew) and went home and finally fell asleep. Later on I got hold of some of the party animals and was told the appalling and fascinating story of how legendary weed-heads Cheech and Chong* had showed up in the apartment uninvited, and forced those present to inhale a full two bongs of marijuana and making them do all kinds of crazy imitations, including one of a Ferrari Testarossa in full speed reverse on a gravel road. After which they ransacked the fridge and disappeared, leaving the horrified and perfectly innocent and drugged out victims of their raid to fend for themselves. These victims managed however, after a while, to heroically get their composure and head for their respective apartments for some well deserved sleep. And as we already know, I was left to wrestle the sheets for the remainder of the night.

To quote Danny Glover in the Lethal Weapon movies: "I'm too old for this shit".

*Cheech and Chong's real names Pedro and Man have been left out to protect the innocent.

A brief look at the Mizrachi - Ashkenazi divide

2010-10-26T15:57:00.000+02:00

A recent FB debate forced me to formulate my views on a topic that is important to me. It started when a religious friend of mine claimed that Rav Ovadia Yosef, former Sephardic Chief Rabbi (he is actually not Sephardic at all, he is Mizrachi i.e. from the Arab world, but there is a tendency in Israel to call all non-Ashkenazi Jews Sephardic) and present spiritual leader of the Shas part, "the biggest hate preacher in Judaism today". I took issue with the statement and a debate erupted between a me and a few people. It should be noted here that I myself follow Eda Mizrachi, and I'm in no way neutral, and that the people I debated with are all Ashkenazim (simply put, Jews who lived in Europe since around 1500 hundred years). Their statements about what interests me, meaning Ashkenazi-Mizrachi relations, pretty much boiled down to the following:

1) Rabbi Ovadia is the "the biggest hate preacher in Judaism today" because he has a lot of influence (he does), and "he's a divisive figure, the Sephardi world adores him and the Ashkenazis detest him".

2) He is Misogynic, Racist, Anti-Arab and Anti-Peace.

3) Mizrachim in general ”suffer from severe inferiority complex which compels them to try to be accepted, again and again, to ashkenazi religious institutions”

Below I present an edited version of my response to these statements:

Rav (Rabbi in Hebrew) Ovadia Yosef loves to tease Western (and Aschkenazi) sensitivities. Taken out of context (the context being his Hallachic work), his sermons often contain provocative statements. If however, you study his work, you will find a great Rabbi, who will always strive to find leniency in his decisions on Hallacha –Jewish Law – and whose work to restore pride among Sephardim and Mizrachim is beyond compare in Israel. Rabbi Ovadia Yosef was the only important Torah authority that supported the Oslo Peace process in the 90's , and although he has since (correctly) admitted this was a mistake, he as late as 3 weeks ago reiterated his Principle for supporting it in a private letter with prayers for the ailing health of Egyptian President Mubarak, and I quote:

"My position has been known and clear for decades, on the importance of achieving peace while preserving the security of the nation of Israel. We wish for sustainable peace with all our neighbors and we are very thankful to the honorable president for his direct involvement in the peace process in our region, which undoubtedly contributes and strengthens this important process."

Hardly the words of a hate preacher....

There may be something to the idea of a Mizrachi inferiority complex, But we have to be clear that the main reason for Mizrachim choosing to enroll in Ashkenazi institutions is power politics and economics. The reason why this is so is simple - money. When the impoverished and traumatized Chasidim and Litvakim arrived in Israel from the smoking ashes of Europe, they found after a while a powerful support in their American kin, who by then had started to become successful in Der Goldene Medina, and kept becoming more and more wealthy as the economic power of the US grew exponentially during the 50's and 60's. And even though the secular founders of Israel were not religious, they came from the same world as them - Golda Meir never referred to Ashkenazim as "uncivilized orientals". So the Ashkenazim, thanks to this and a good organizational skills and a lot of hard work, had a head start from the beginning. Other contributing factors were their larger pre WWII presence in Israel and their more institutionalized and structured system of Torah education.

When the Mizrachim were kicked out of the Arab world with no more than the clothes on their body, they did not get much financial support from the US, and were quite immediately pushed to the periphery of society, geographically, socially and economically. This was a result of different factors, ethnical prejudice on part of the Ashkenazim being only one of very many. Among other factors were the lack of housing and the insights of how to navigate the powerbrokering and inner workings of a Western-style (well...) modern (well..) democracy.

All this has combined into the current hegemony of the Ashkenazim, and as a result the way to religious and political (and so socio-economical) power goes primarily through the Ashkenazi Yeshivas, and this is the main reason why Mizrachim send their kids to Ashkenazi Yeshivot (schools of higher religious education).

Now. I don't have anything against Ashkenazim at all. On the contrary, many of our greatest Torah Sages were Ashkenazim and I happily study them pretty much daily (Chofetz Chaim, who else). On top of which the Shul in my heart in the South of Stockholm is Ashkenazi and most of my closest friends as well. My problem is the Ashkenazi push in Israel for hegemony over religious institutions. And I have even bigger problem with the fact that it's almost become a national sport to try to shame and ridicule the greatest Torah scholar alive because of his "Arab" pronunciation (TV has actually texted his speeches at some occasion) or his sermons. And honestly, isn't it a bit unfair to call him the most dangerous hate mongerer in Israel, when the truth is that 99 % of the very few real cases of hate mongering, whether in writing, price tag operations or sermons, actually emanates from the Ashkenazi Settler community?

I have the deepest respect for Ashkenazim, we are all just Jews, and this is immensely more important than the things that make us different. I'm just worried what will happen to the Mizrachi heritage once Rav Ovadia is gone. And I'm very tired of mudslinging against Sephardic and Mizrachi Rabbis.

Maran Rav Ovadia Yosef

Nippy morning, Beer Sheva

2010-10-26T08:15:00.000+02:00

So this morning when I hit the streets of my desert metropolis I actually wished I had put on a hoodie or something. It actually felt a bit cold, which obviously means it wasn't very cold, maybe around 18 degrees Celsius, but still. When the sun comes up it will probably be in the lower 30's, again, but the nights and mornings are slowly getting cooler. Then again they are predicting high 30'es again toward the end of the week, but the unusually heat for this time of year is not what has the people buzzing, but rather the draught, as Israel suffers from a chronic water deficit problem. Lake Kineret (The Sea of Galilee) is Israel's biggest water reserve, and this and others need to be replenished by rain. And it doesn't rain.....Beer Sheva hasn't seen rain in six months.

Flowery drill instructor in in action

Other than that I had a productive day yesterday, even though I overslept. So I went to Ulpan to encounter another subgroup of conjugations for irregular verbs in future tense. Our drill instructor, sorry, teacher Ronit was in a splendid mood and didn't raise her voice once, not even when I arrived 2 hours late. After that I made pasta and sausages for me and Quentin, ate, cleaned the kitchen AND the stove, my room and the floors. I then worked out (the belly is going away!), went to Shul for Mincha and listened in on a lecture and following heated quarrel about the private versus public reading of The Schmah prayer, went to the Rabbi for Gemara studies and discussed reward and punishment, and then sat down to write a blog post. About the great Russian influx to Israel. in the 90's And got stuck. And the piece became half a novel, and I realized I simply new too little about the subject to make something worthwhile of it. So it gets to bide its time in the drafts list until I know what to do with it. Some time I'll try writing something about the ethnic interplay here in the Merkaz, instead of going for the big picture.

Meanwhile, life is good and, this morning, like ever now and again, it dawns on me: I'm in Israel! It's not simply a question of religion. I like the country, simply put. Maybe it's still the novelty of it, we'll se what happens when I start working and move out of the sheltered existence that is Merkaz Klita Yeelim. Time for class. I'm leaving you with a picture of the coolest lighter I ever seen. A facsimile of the Palestinian Post (currently Jerusalem Post) of May 14, 1948.

Introducing The Hardline...

2010-10-24T19:27:00.000+02:00

For those of you who don't know your pop history, or those who are simply too young or too old, may not know from where I've stolen the name of my blog. So - those of you who do know might elucidate the former group in the commentaries below. The elucidators may however not be aware that this artist's present legal name is ‏Sananda Francesco Maitreya.

Sananda back in the day....

Tel Aviv in pictures

2010-10-23T20:02:00.000+02:00

Spent Thursday in Tel Aviv, buying Swedish snuff and hanging out with Jonathan and Sanna. I also managed to snap a few pictures with my trusty old cell phone. Tel Aviv is messy, noisy and stressy, and it's architecture is a hysterical blend of Bauhaus, Neo brutalism, experimentalism and hyper modernity. More on Israel and it's architecture in a later blog post. For now, I'll leave you contemplating the pics.

TA Central bus station

Sanna

Jonathan

TA Philharmonics building

Intersection

Old and new TA

Bus station, Lewinski street entrance

99 Problems...

2010-10-22T16:42:00.001+02:00

There is something special with musical crossover cooperations. When artists who have a very clear cut musical and semiotic identity have the guts to pick up a cover from somewhere completely unexpected or calls up a guest artist on stage from a completely different genre. The swedish folk punk band (think the Pogues) Traste Lindéns Kvintett used to do a Swedish version cover of Motorheads' Ace of Spades with guest guitarist from a Death Metal band, and Motorhead (Or rather their legendary dictator Lemmy Kilminster, inofficial coolest white man alive) themselves, are legendary for their fantastic covers of Metallica, Sex Pistols and a bunch of others. The "Classic" Motorhead setting actually broke because of Lemmys insistance of covering country classic Stand by your man - Philthy Phil took his heroine addiction and left in protest.

A bunch of years ago MTV picked this up by making different artist "Mash up" a few of their best pieces. Most of these cooperations weren't much, but it resulted in a cooperation that actually came out better than the original tunes and resulted in the Mini CD Collision Course, with kingpin Gangsta Rapper Jay-Z and Nu Metal crown contenders Linkin Park mashed their best tracks. And does this swing!!!

The best track by far on this CD is 99 Problems, which has the extra touch that the Jay-Z track with that name is actually a paraphrase on an Ice-T track with the same name (the lyrics is basically quite changed from Ice-T's version to something slightly more PC...). If you think Rap usually has too little bite and Nu Metal has too little Swing, this is the record to get your hands on! If you can sit still through these 6 Metal heavy, Hip Hop bumbing, Jazzy jumbing tracks, you are probably a Zombie.

So here I am, listening to Collision Course, recently arrived to lovely Beer Sheva after a visit to Tel Aviv. In Tel Aviv I followed up a tip I had gotten from a Swedish friend here. Apparently A nice person has come up with the splendid idea to start importing and introducing Swedish Snus in Israel. For those of you who don't know what Swedish Snus is, it's a classic Swedish smoke-free tobacco product, made up of fine grain tobacco, salt and water, and then packed in small pouches, that you discretely put under you upper lip. This way you get your nicotine along with a smooth tobacco taste, without bothering anyone else and without risking your health. The importer has even taken the bother to kosher certify all the ingredients which makes this Swedish Snus the first kosher certified tobacco product in the world. The brand is tailor made for the Israeli market, and is called Stop. In Sweden Snus has become a major in the last few years, precisely because thousands of people are using it to stop smoking, hence the brand name Stop. In any case I managed to find the tobacco store which is selling the Snus, and I bought 10 of each taste, regular and menthol. After some looking around I managed to get the phone number of the manufacturer, a religious Jew and recent Oleh Chadash, and he tells me that he came up with the idea of introducing Swedish Snus in Israel as a way to get people to stop smoking (Israelis smoke like chimneys and smoke health issues is a big problem), and as he wanted influence the religious, orthodox and charedi Jewish community as well, he took the trouble of getting a kosher certificate. Now his company Swedish Tobacco has started distributing to stores all over Israel and if you feel like kicking your smoking habit, you'll find more information on their web page: www.swedishtobacco.co.il

In TA I also met up with Jonathan and his girlfriend Sanna, and we spent the night eating Burekas, talking, and generally having a good time. Jonathan is one of the driving forces behind the Stockholm Beit midrash and Sanna works for the Swedish-Israeli Information Center.

OK - candle lighting time! Have a great weekend and Shabat Shalom!

Politics on Facebook...

2010-10-21T14:51:00.000+02:00

Woke up late today, meaning around 8 AM, with a clear idea in my head: I need to stop waiting my time discussing religion and politics with people who don't understand even the basics of either. There are libraries and there are books. You can either read them of not, but I will no longer try to explain the history Israel and it's conflicts, the evolution and content of ideologies, plain empirical fact or the nature of rational argument, in Facebook commentaries. And speaking of commentaries, I'd love it if you'd leave them here rather than on Facebook as many of my readers aren't on said social media.

Quite naturally I will break my promise of not participating in FB debates, but let's see how long I can keep it up;-)

Other than that an eventless day so far so not much to report. We had a grammar test and I was once again reminded that my knowledge of temporal conjugation of hebrew verbs is a joke. Spent the break discussing the politics of war with Jochanan, a former Iraq veteran who has a few insights to it, as well as 3 very cute children. He and is wife has been here for 6 months and the are in the same class as me. Their youngest child was born here.

Jochanan and his youngest daughter

In any case Jonathan and his girlfriend Sanna is in Israel so I'm off to Tel Aviv now to meet up with them. Eager to here some reports on the Status in Stockholm. I will spend the bus ride of 1.5 hours accompanied by my beloved Hebrew verbs, future tense.

"Shalom Chaver, Goodbye, friend."

2010-10-20T17:37:00.000+02:00

So, after a bad nights sleep I miraculously managed to get up at 5 AM to go to Shul. Night owl as I am, you still gotta admit that there is something special about early mornings, before the sun has rose above the horizon. A cool stillness, empty streets, already warm but not yet hot, the day waiting to kick in.

Merkaz Klita Yeelim, 6 AM

After Shul I went to the usual coffee shop for my morning cup of cafe afuch (literally backwards coffee, basically a latte) at the coffee and tobacco stand. The owners are two olim from France who have been here for 15 years. They are very nice people and at Ulpan break a line of coffee abstinent students form a line here, but at this early hour the customers are far between.

The nice lady who makes my morning afuch

Today was the 12th of the Jewish month Cheshvan and the 15th anniversary of the murder of Israeli Prime Minister Yitzchak Rabin. A lot of people nowadays, while commemorating his death, write off the Oslo process as a historical parenthesis, that was doomed to failure from the outset. There are valid arguments to make that point, but human memory is short, and what people forget is just how much the earth shook under those few years. They forget how people on both sides were filled with hope and excitement (as well as, no doubt, fears and worries). A peace treaty was signed with Jordan. Yasser Arafat came back from exile in Tunis, to a welcome worthy of a semi-god. A friend of mine spent one of his army years doing joint security patrols with PLO soldiers (!), and learnt Arabic in the process, cause as he said: "They were very proud people. They spoke perfect Hebrew, but as our (!) closest officer was an Arab, they refused to speak it." Today hope is gone, and it's hard to remember that it ever existed. And it's very easy to focus on the mistakes that where made, that it was all a castle in the sky, built on unattainable dreams, by dreamers. It's easy to say that Yasser Arafat was nothing but a terrorist (and that he was, worst kind), and that he never dreamt of peace. But it is also possible that he dreamed of peace, and simply chickened out when Rabin was murdered. In either case he then let his henchmen bomb Oslo to smithereens and that was that. Today the lefties and Peaceniks have successfully co-opted Rabin's legacy and they have spun layer after layer of mythology on top of it. This has made the Rabin memorial, and specifically it's content, a contentious matter in Israel. But the truth is that Rabin was neither a lefty nor a peacenik, neither hawk nor dove. Rabin was a hawk. A peace hawk. That is what made him unique, and that is why Arabs as well as Jews trusted him. Finally, the truth is that we will never know what would have happened if Rabin had lived. And that is a great loss.

So Ulpan today started with a talk about Rabin and his legacy. Later there was a short memorial, which carefully avoided an over-politizised discourse. Young Russian Olim took turns reading facts in Hebrew about his life and work, friends and hobbies, likes and dislikes. A few songs were played. It was solemn, but still very every-day life - no big gestures, no sentimentality. A couple of the youngster had a tear or two in their eyes, and then that was that.

Afterwords we delved once again into the mysteries of Hebrew future tense and counterfactual imperfect statements. And this is what I'll keep doing the rest of the night. So with the words of President Clinton at the graveside of Yitzchak Rabin, Im signing off for today:

"Shalom Chaver, Goodbye Friend."

Yitzchak Rabin 1922-1995

Hebrew grammar

2010-10-20T16:31:00.000+02:00

So yesterday went by fairly uneventfully. In keeping with my self-diciplinary ideas I cooked my own dinner instead of going for Schwarma, and then ate it with Quentin. I also managed to spend large part of my post Ulpan day in the company of the future tense verbs of binyan Paal. And I'm starting to grasp them which means I'm back where I was the last time I took my Hebrew studies seriously, 5 years ago.

I also waisted my time debating a fairly nasty letter that the NGO Women at the Wall had directed to the Israeli government and the general public. They were basically describing Orthodox people as a screaming, feces-throwing mob, while disingenuously seeking monopoly for their own brand of Judaism. I fail to understand why feminist Reformniks, who make a point of breaking every Hallacha they come across, feel it absolutely necessary to imitate prescribed Orthodox and male behavior in the one place in the world where it will be seriously hurtful - the Western Wall. Then again, The Israeli Rabbinate, along with a minority of Charedim, is hardly doing their part to decrease tensions.

Other than that I was in a strangely great mood yesterday, even after talking to the seriously sour lady at The Western Wall Herritage Foundation to change the bookings for the Underground Tunnels tour for a US friend.

The night ended with Ester trying unsuccessfully to first hypnotise Noddy, and then via mental powers make him light as a feather, so that we would be able to lift him on our fingers. This after some serious persuasive manoiuvers courtesy of Tweety. So Ester would repeatedly tell him that she would make him "light as a feather, light as a feather, light as...". After which 4 persons would press down on his head and....well. Try to lift him from the chair using two fingers under his arms and knees. None of it worked. Noddy seemed to be saddened that he wasn't able to be hypnotised, but with the screaming and shouting going on in the loft passageways, outside our open door, it's hardly surprising. Personally I strongly doubt I could get hypnotised in a sound-proof studio. I'm a control freak. I'd just get bored. At best.

"Light as a feather, light as a feather, light as..."

Discipline...

2010-10-19T14:18:00.000+02:00

....is something I've been drifting out of during Chagim, basically a result of having no fixed schedule except for eating absurd amounts of food and being in Shul. But now that the Ulpan has started i dearly need to get my shit together. Work, work, work!

Last night however, the rather rowdy apartment gang stayed late, and Noddy showed off is skills at impersonating colored South Africans (apparently "colored" is the politically correct term for the mix between blacks and whites in South Africa) and Arnold Schwartznegger.

"Daaemn" Wee gatta giet auta hier, die ting iz ganna blooooow!!"

All this to thundering laughter and Tweety said she started to feel her place as court gester/impersonator threatened. I suggested a division of labour - Noddy would do the famous peeps and she would stick to the local Merkaz characters. In any case it was difficult to get any home work done. Bad excuse. Discipline, like I said.

Noddy impersonating a Gremlin

Went over to the bank and tried it Israeli - I didn't get a number and instead just walked up to the clerk's booth, sat down and asked for my debit card, which I ordered a month ago. It worked out splendidly, and I only had to sign 2 papers and I got my card and left. Ulpan (for you who don't know, this is a methodology in language training invented in Israel and successfully exported) today was good, and Ronit (my drill instructor....sorry...teacher) didn't scream at me for being an hour late. We are still mostly working future tense.

At coffee break me and Brian discussed "HaMatzav" (literally "The Situation", meaning Israel vis a vis the world, primarily the Palestinians) . We are both certain the staus quo is going nowhere good. So....1 state, 2, 3....? Nothing will happen with the current leadership anyway. The heat is back with around 37 degrees and the eventual cool breeze. Life is good.

Shabbes in Ramat Beit Shemesh Alef....

2010-10-18T17:33:00.000+02:00

So, basically I spent Friday in TA and Shabbes in Ramat Beit Shemesh with Richard (visiting from Sweden) and Yehuda and his family. We had a nice time, went to the beach in TA, ate, prayed, drank good whiskey and wine and well, I snapped a few pics:

On our way to the Mens only beach...

Ramat Beit Shemesh....

Yehuda emerging from the Mikveh

Birra Motzei Shabbes....

Chaya-Mushkas post shabbes dance...

Rev Yehuda....

Touchdown boy II

2010-10-18T15:10:00.000+02:00

Action shots

* Landed on Ben Gurion and as I started to walk out of the place a see a woman holding a sign with my name on it. She takes me through customs, a few corridors and sits me down in front of a very thin greyish file clerk who looks like a depressed Russian. The Clerk gives me a bunch of papers and 1200 shekels in cash and a Taxi voucher.

* First Shabbes. Quentin takes me to Shul and I meet Rabbi Nissim for the first time. Pavlova sits across from me at the Shabbes table and gives me dirty looks and asks his son in Spanish whether he believes I'm Jewish or nor, and whether I'm Ashkenazi or not. Then he starts on a monologue of how everyone in his family are Jewish, Sephardi, except his former wife who is Ashkenazi. When we walk home he tells me in Spanish that dressing white and black for Shabbes is not a Jewish thing: "You have no idea why you do that!! You understand nothing! You think you so religious, you think you are better than me??? I'm Sephardi, Ima sheli Sephardi! Mi Turkia, entiendes??"

* Arriving in Beer Sheva with a shitload of luggage, after the cab driver finally has got the directions right. And I'm met by the guard who has no idea where I'm supposed to live. At the same time there is another Commotion going on - to cops are called to the scene to help a tenant against her flat mate who has assaulted her. Morris - The Big Boss of the Merkaz - is angry at the assaulted girl for calling the police and forcing him off his ass and having to take responsibility for one of the many crazies he gives room and board. I finally get my room. The heat is like a burning wall, and I'm soaked through in 5 minutes.

* Galina works at the Absorption office. The absorption office is to sign for me so that I will get my monthly Oleh allowance, and is supposed to help me to an Ulpan Hebrew class. Everyone in the absorption office speaks to eachother in Russian, I might as well have been in Moscow. She supposedly speaks English so she calls in a translator and then we conduct the interview in Hebrew. She tells me my Hebrew is too good, so "Sorry, but we can't help you, we only have Kita Alef in Beer Sheva." I try to suggest that there might be also a Kita bet, but she is very sure of herself. The translator takes pity in me and tries to say that it's actually "Our job to try to help the Olim, maybe there is a course at the university?" Galina shruggs her shoulders and looks a bit taken aback. She gives up a big sigh and looks miserable.

4 weeks later after having chased the director of the Ulpan for a while I find myself in Kita Alef after having done a diagnostic test. And I'm informed that there are indeed Kita Bet in Beer Sheva. Galina has, as is very common here, not a clue to kak, or even the basics of her work. She is just employed.

* The apartment gang. Seeing as my flat mates are nice and social people, our apartment is becoming a meeting point for an assorted bunch of people who converge here during the day, and whose primary members are: Tweety, whom I described above and who is responsible for making up most the nicks used in this blog, Vibe, a south-african bearded dude who got his nick from his belief that one can enter the vibe of ones internal organs and get good advice from them (he made aliya based on their advice), Batia, a very kind South-African lady with two kids, Hotlips, a former pole dancer, David who bicycles everywhere and is constantly worried about his learning skills, although he also is learning quite a lot, Noddy, who sadly has a virus infection and is in and out of hospital, and Ester, Irish-South-African Hypnotist who once put Quentin under hypnosis.

Part of the gang...

The Vibe is having fun....

Explaining his good vibe....

Dave is being studious...

* The supermarket. Supersol in Yeelim, Beer Sheva has the most disorganized, inefficient cashiers on the planet. Even if you are first in line it can take ten minutes to get to pay for your 5 items - they speak on the phone, with each other, or just run away as soon as a problem occurs with one of the other cashiers, to argue, help our, or just hitch a break. And you are never first in line in any case - as soon as the number of customers diminishes, they close all cashiers but one. Still, they are mostly nice and you can buy 95 % alcohol for no money at all (nope, haven't tried it).

Touchdown boy

2010-10-18T01:05:00.000+02:00

The weeks leading up to my immigration to Israel, the most common commentary was that I should keep a blog over ensuing events. No such has so far happened, mostly because I've either been idling around, celebrating the exhausting string of Jewish Holidays that plague autumn (a period referred to plainly as "chagim - holidays), or running around in general. And as I don't have the time to chronologically relate everything that been going down in almost 2 months, I'll simply try to make a quick sketch of the places and persons in the coming days:

Merkaz Klita Yeelim

Home, sweet home......

Is a dump, fair and square. it's some 350 meters of grey concrete times 4 stories high, and on the website they brag about it being the longest building in the Middle East. It looks like a Soviet suburb. It is only the only building in Beer Sheva without A/C. And seeing Beer Sheva is smack in the middle of the Negev desert, there is a reason why all the other houses does have A/C - the summer temperatures can reach 48 degrees celsius. My flatmates made me go bye a fan the first night and I heeded their advice. Some 360 Russians, Latinos, South-africans and Yemenites live here. They sometimes get on each others nerves and fist fights are not unheard of. For reasons I fail to grasp the armed guards to not consider it their job to break up fights. Exactly what the consider their job is unclear, except being bored out of their minds and pushing the button to open the main gate.

The Laundromat

For these 360 peeps there are 4 washing machines, and usually they break down twice a week. They also don't clean your clothes very well. Once I stuffed 2 machines full and ended up with 10 kg of dirty, wet and cold clothes. I spoke twice to the guard who didn't consider this his problem, then onto the boss's secretary who did not consider it her problem and asked me to talk to the boss. "Ze lo tafkid sheli", he grumbled. I asked him whose damn job it was - mine? After a shouting match he called up the guy whose job it was, then gave the receiver to me. A stream of angry Hebrew in my ear. I gave it back to mister boss...

The characters

Benjy and Quentin - my flat mates, and fantastic people both of them. Former business men, body builders and really nice guys. Showed me where the buses are, told me to buy a fan, where to find the defunct washing machines and how to get a paying card for them, and all the other stuff you have to know to get around here. Because there is not one written piece of paper of how anything works in Merkaz klita.

Rabbi Nissim

Moroccan Rabbi who teaches at a Satmer Yeshiva in town. As the Satmer do not accept money from the government (they are Anti-Zionist), he hasn't been paid for 6 months. Marvelous guy whose doors are always open and with whom I spend most my shabbeses. He has 13 kids, loves his Arak and Brandy, and is teaching me Gemara. Lives in a house close to the Merkaz. Among his less fortunate traits is that he asks me to translate and explain things to Pavlova (below) who despite his own beliefs can't understand Hebrew (or much else). An Pavlova doesn't like to be told what to do and interprets absolutely anything as an attack on his personal honor.

Rabbi Nissim Amar and 2 of his sons

Pavlova

Madman. Famous for pulling a knife on a couple of drunk Russian kids for messing with his son. Hailing from Chile, he walks around in a beard and shorts, questioning people as to whether they are Jews or not. This is his only topic of interest - repeating that he, his son, his mother his father and his pet parrot are Jews, Sephardic Turkish Jews to be exact. He is insulting everyone and starting fights by rudely questioning others Jewishness or by just generally being a jerk. Sooner or later someone will punch his teeth out, it's just a matter of time. The sad thing is that every now and again he does make an effort to not be an asshole - you can really see him straining. And then he goes back to what he does best.

Tweety

The only Welch Jewess I met. Has complete knowledge of the Merkaz Gossip and is making up nicknames for everyone in her Ulpan class, whom she also impersonates with great skill. Basically she is very funny. She and her boyfriend also adopted a dog that was found in a garbage dumpster (pets are forbidden here, hence half of the tenants have pets), but they eventually had to give him up.

closer to kim than you

2010-03-15T01:53:00.003+02:00

closer to kim than you
closer to nails than fingertips
closer to fire than oxygen
closer to life than breath and heartbeat

closer to stars than night
closer to words than silence
closer to skin than flesh
closer to spring than wind and rain

closer to slave than master

is longing to the lonely
prayer to the destitute
father to daughter
wife to husband
life to death
man to god
hope to love

the heart of another beating in your chest

a brother on the radio

2010-03-02T18:11:00.001+02:00

allways wished I had a brother
smoke from the same chimney
filtered though the same skies
someone to help me carry the years
a stained mirror to look into

another man like me
and nothing like me

but there is a voice on the radio
and through the dusty memories
he sings of how i broke my heart
in another life and another time
when i waisted myself and you

he sings like I would
if I had been a singer
the words that I would
if I was a poet and rebel
that you were an angel
and that I was wrong

another heart like mine
and nothing like it

I wish there was another man
that I didn't need to prove anything to
I wish I weren't an orphan and that I had
a brother that had worked the same
factory floors and had lived the same years

another man like me
and nothing like me

is singing on the air waives of how I failed you
som many years ago that I can hardly remember
how I never gave you what I asked for and how
I could have stayed with you and let you love me

I wish I had a brother
I wish there was another
man like me out there to help me carrry

the years

taking my leave

2009-12-11T02:50:00.000+02:00

good bye
im leaving

take it the wrong way if you want
we were close once which is exactly
why i dont want you in my periphery

but feel free to
take it the wrong way id say youre
entitled to

i used to say that loves greatest mystery
was the
intimacy
trust
tenderness
turned strangership and the taste of blood
under clasped teeth and fake smiles and
anyway

people would trade a thousand hookups to
one person whoud step between them and
those who do what those who do
do
aint my people aint
my tribe aint
me

I

aint much

grown an old mans scent
and fat
bad teeth
and so
bad breath

thats about it

but my heart is banging hard and crimson
and yesterday i stepped between a broken bottle
and a stranger
without fear
thats me

and i know this aint my time but i have no intention
to make it mine

so im taking my leave
if you want you know
where to reach me if
you dont

dont

words of dusk

2009-12-10T18:52:00.000+02:00

take my neck let it hold
take my liver make it work
take my eyes let them see
take my heart and make it beat

take these bones and make them last another day
let me straighten out my back tomorrow when i wake

take my feet make them walk
take my teeth have them chew
take my knees
take my lungs and let them breathe

thats all
one more day

then ill be on my way
leave you to your own devices
let you be

your stars are very black tonite
your darkness very bright
the rain and cold
your hiding sun

me?
according to your mold:
very, very young
and very old

thats all

waking night

2009-12-06T04:16:00.001+02:00

wake night
waiting for the poison
waiting for the poison
to leave my limbs

to let go of the heart
let go of my knees
and my clasped teeth

waiting for the poison
for the fear to subside
for the anger monster
to go away

waiting for my poison
to break me
leave me
in tears

carry me on iron wheels
through the burning rage
and bitter hate to

sorrowland

Melle Mel and Sukkot.....

2009-10-02T00:30:00.000+02:00

Unemployed, all non void, walking 'round like a pretty boy Floyd, turned stick up kid, but....Well no, not really. But unemployed indeed since a couple of months - by my own choosing and no real excuse for only using my blog as a means to get 3 people at best to read my poetry. Supposedly a blog should be updated at least once a day, no? I had this grand scheme that I would do just that after I took the consequences of no longer standing three layers of incompetence above me at my place of work and hence resigning - I was going to dub it "The dole diaries" -but it never materialised. Maybe because I as of yet don't know if my dear ol' union intends to actually pay me any dole or if I shall have to live on fried rice for the remainder of my savings.

So anyways - I overslept this morning and was awoken by a phone call from Chip demanding that I was to immediately get in a cab and get my sorry behind to Shul as they were a man short of a Minyan (the quorum of 10 Jewish men necessary for service), so I called a cab and arrived just in time for Kriat Torah - half an hour late. After service we had breakfast, I had a smoke with Chip and was informed that Dale is badly depressed and will probably not show for some time. I had already figured as much as he doesn't even answer the phone but I miss the man. Still - at least he is talking to his closest friend. Then I was off to the JCC to meet up with P to explain to him the ABC's of his new computer, one of them worthless notebooks that are really small and reeeealy sloooow. How he has achieved to reach the age of 60 without knowing how to save a word document in a folder of his choice I have no idea. So that's about how much I managed to teach in 1,5 hours.

Yesterday I spent most the day building Sukkoth - first the Chabad Shaliach's and then Shul's. Sukkoth is my probably my favourite holiday - a lot of singing, the wonderful scent of Etrogim filling Shul in the early morning, the rattling sound of shaking Arba minim, 50 Jews crammed up in the Sukka under the pine roof, great food, and then staying late with the Israelis, the yeshiva bocherims and the rabbis - singing and talking Torah and getting drunk on Whiskey. Doesn't get better.

Personals Ad

2009-09-30T11:47:00.000+02:00

"Hi there!
I'm happy you found my profile! Please sit back and let me introduce myself and my world!

People often tell me that what strikes them the most about me is my bubbly personallity, my eye to detail and my pure, intrinsic evil. My closest "friends" often describe me as unintelligent, but with a well developed sneakyness that gains me insight into peoples weaknesses and an understanding of how to exploit them. I'm also known to be cheap and and as a man who rather bite his head off than pay for dinner. Some would probably point out my creepyness. Others have actually had the gaul to kvetch about my personal hygiene, looks, smell, and so on.

Professionally I'm a bit of a failure I'm afraid, seing as I just got fired, but I have high hopes of tricking my insurance company into paying a few months of dole, so I might be able to pay rent for the charming studio basement apartment I'm renting in South Bronx. I have been able to hold down several jobs for long stretches of time though, but they all ended as soon as my prison term was up, and in all honesty they didn't pay very well.

However - other peoples seething hatred for my person is easily balanced by my megalomanic and undying love for myself. Every thought, smirk or even word I bestow upon the general public I consider an act of bevevolent and loving kindness. And as they say - If you don't love your self, how can you possibly love somebody else? Hence there is no limit to my capacity for love!!!!"

So....sometimes I get a bit tired of all the streamlined copy writing on Frumster and other dating sites.....meh!!

Delancey street

2009-09-17T22:56:00.000+03:00

truth is
I never did know how to love
so in the nights I
flicked on the screen
and let my soul fall with with the cloudy white snow flakes
over yet another manhattan new years happy ending
and for another 15 minutes falling through the jewel light
of the shimmering city skyline
I was whole

I would steal the one liners from the street florists
and the confessions of the heart off the city side walks
I'd smoke my cigarettes in the softness of my dark room
and blow the smoke through the blue light towards the ceiling
waiting
savioring them words
saving them silver nitrate heart beats
for the next girl to show up en route some place completely different
such as marriage
such as love

I can't love and can't sleep so I
visit the late night movie shows
we sit few and far between
I watch the couples when the light comes on
they rub the fiction from their eyes and smile
to each other
drowsily like newborn

he helps her with her coat and as they leave
I turn my attention to the credits and all these
names from the bible

on cold winter nights there is a tune playing on
delancey street and when I'm brave enough
strong enough
determined enough
me enough
I walk to the middle of the bridge through the biting wind
where you can here it perfectly

other nights I just
flick the screen on
and let my soul fall with the snow flakes
over another manhattan happy ending
while I memorize the one liners for another girl
en route to somebody completely different
and light another

cigarette

Tuesday morning, 2 AM

2009-09-01T02:23:00.000+03:00

come night
take me in
put your warm hands on mine
give me your darkness and sorrows and secrets
be my friend and lover as before

strew your silver on the river and pour your rain
on the solitary streets and give them comfort
caress the street lights and the sleeping cars
your breath in every lonely engine sound
in every tired sleeping block

come night sit down and share my coffee and my cigarettes
look me in the eyes and tell me that you'll never leave me
that I'll always be your child no matter what
your brother and your confidant

that no matter what happens you'll always be there

come night with your slowing hours and your scent of time
hum your song of cabbies, cops and drunks
to your tune of distant sirens, distant horns and distant dreams
give my regards to the starbucks clerks and the insomniacs

come night with morphine for the wounded and insane
come night with clarity of heart and mind and memory
show me all I lost and never cried for
and let me cry

come night and lie beside me
breathe your darkness all around me

come night and make me human

once again

Exile

2009-08-16T04:11:00.000+03:00

exile
exile from
exile to
exile
on main street
and mean streets

exile from a life you dreamed of
a life you worked hard for
a life you were taught
a life you were raised to
a life you were meant for
a life planned and hoped for
a life that was supposed to be
a life lost

the scents coming through the curtains
sound of streets coming awake in the morning
being woken up by by tiny hands
seeing the same faces
grow and wrinkle
earning and buying your bread
in the same factory
from the same bakery

to a life after
a language not known
to the sounds of foreign streets
this city full of strangers
a life you do not know and cannot grasp
a life of cardboard boxes
an emptied apartment
a life of aching temples and sleepless nights
a life never prepared for
a life of learning anew

exiled by a woman
exiled by a war
a dictator
a dream
a mistake
a time

exiled to starting all over with no map and and a banged up compass

to a new
beginning

A small word

2009-06-21T02:02:00.000+03:00

love
just one word
one word
and so difficult

love
one single word
and a thousand wars
and shattered hearts
covering the city streets
and lonely farm lands

paris and beatrix
hell purgatory heaven
and the smoking ashes of troy

love
this small word

abused
conquered
lied
mended
revoked
caressed
shouted
whispered
written
betrayed
suppressed
cried
silenced
forced
promised

love
this one word
and an infinity
every poet in every time
every letter in every alphabet
every heart in every era
in every land

love
on word

since the the first second was spoken to a cold universe
out of love

every man
every woman
every child

ever

What is the problem with men?

2009-05-08T16:02:00.001+03:00

I'm in a bad mood. Fed up. With men. To be clear: I'm not a feminist, I don't believe men to have a rape gene or to be incapable of acting decently due to sociological constraints, general upbringing or an in general evil manhood into which we are socialised. Never the less, I'm truly fed up with the way certain men behave towards women. Part of the reasons are purely egoistic: I'm fed up with being treated like a potential moron, molester or rapist. I'm tired of noticing how women ahead start speeding up when I'm quietly walking home at night, and having too slow down or change sidewalks not to scare her. And a few months ago in New York City I was unable to get a girl to date me, to even meet me in a restaurant, partly because of her previous encounters with inconsiderate schmucks and madmen. Instead we talked on the phone for some 8 (!) hours, half of which was devoted to her interrogating me as to whether I was a stalker, madman, alcoholic or something other less appropriate for a good Jewish girl. Until we had to give up and never even met.

A couple of days ago I had a cup of coffee with an old friend. She is in her forties and dresses modestly as do most members of the middleeastern people to which she belongs. On her way home she stopped to exchange a few words with the man serving the subway booth as they are old friends. While she was talking to her she suddenly felt a very big person pushing up against her and his hand feeling her up between her legs and squeezing her behind. She was completely shocked and turned ice cold. But she also, fortunately, reacted and turned around. Behind her was a bear like man of middle age. She told him to stop, and demanded he made an excuse. As he tried to laugh it off she got angrier and kicked him in the leg. After a while the guards arrived and explained to the man that what he had done was illegal. The man himself tried to lecture my friend that "this is not how women usually behave in this country", and telling the guards that my friend had assaulted her (she is the least aggressive person thinkable and most computer geeks could carry her). My friend ended up making a police report, and so did the man. She was unable to sleep and felt terrible for a week after it happened. Anyone think that this excuse of a man had any trouble sleeping? So after a week she was called to the police station to witness. Not about the molestation, but about her kicking him on the leg.

Now this is not just a sad incident. I have many female friends whom have had stalkers, been molested, felt up and abused, telephone terrorised. And one very close friend was brutally raped. Now where do these men come from and who are they? And from where do they get the shittyness to treat women this way. It's incomprehensible. Of course there are rotten eggs among women, but in general they are unbelievably loyal to men. I used to drive buses at night and I would see all these little girls carrying there twice as big, drunk as hell, boyfriends onto the buses, puke over their clothes, making sure they got home. Is it these guys who grow up to be molesters?

I simply can not understand how a man can assault a woman and live with himself. Or shout "bitch" or "hoe" after a girl and feel good when she is stunned by the shock and shame. Brag about it to their friends.

Who are these men? They aren't. Men, that is. A real man is a source of good. A real man is "women and children first". A real man look to those week, whomever they are, and try to help out, and to those strong, and point out where they need to better themselves. A real man will feel valuable when he helps a friend, consoles a child or build a house.

One of the men I remember was my grandfather. He was very manly because he would let the grand kids punch his big belly with all their might while he laughed so hard his teeth nearly fell out. His arms was thick as trees after many years of hard work and his garage was filled with oily tools and a big industrial sharpening machine that weighed 2 tons. One day when I was playing one of my fantasy killing games, killing everyone, he grabbed me and said: "You do know that killing someone is nothing heroic, right?" I was a really young and fairly screwed up kid, and my heroes were John Wayne and Alan Ladd, so I asked: "What do you mean". He said: "A real hero is someone who saves someone's life. That is the finest thing someone can ever do in life."

Another real man is my father.

Some day I hope to be one myself. What these persons that purposely hurt, degrade, humiliate and molest women hope to achieve I can't imagine. May they all go to hell.

Khaybar, Khaybar ya Yahud!

2009-04-25T23:10:00.000+03:00

In Sweden there is a monthly Magazine called The Jewish Chronicle. Its partly funded by The Jewish Congregation, and hence, as a member, I receive it every month. This month they have a theme on the Anti-Israel protests during the Operation Led in Gaza. During these demonstrations, signs were carried with the text "Khaybar, Khaybar ya Yahud!", a slogan that was also chanted at mass demonstrations in Malmoe, the third largest city in Sweden, with the largest percentage of newly arrived Muslim immigrants from the Middle East. Now what does this slogan mean? Is it something about freedom to Palestine? Ending the "occupation"?

Not so. Khaybar was a small city in present day Saudi Arabia, where Muhammad clashed with Jewish Bedouins in the year 629, as it seems primarily for political reasons. The fight ended up with the 3/4 Jews being slaughtered. And this is now chanted in a protest against the Davis Cup match between Israel and Sweden? This is a demonstration for the Palestinian right to statehood? In the same march walked a famous folk singer (a fantastic on I might add, just wish he shut up on politics forever...) well as politicians. Under the green banners Hamas.

Do I need to point out that in the year 629 there was no Palestine, nor Palestinians? At that time the Arabs were a small desert-dwelling people. In time they would subdue the whole of what is now called the "Arab world" and not be stopped until the border of France, but at the time they largely unheard of.

The Jewish Chronicle also contains an interview with Ilmar Reepalu, the Leader of the City Government. He says he never heard until now any complaints about the safety of the city's Jewish population, and that after the attempt of arson, vandalisation and attacks against Jewish outdoor meetings, he saw no reason to contact the Jewish Community in Malmoe to reassure them that this was being looked into. He cant see why he would and as he says: "When Swastikas was painted on my house, the Jewish community didn't contact me to express their support".

Ehhh....well, the Jewish community isn't the city's highest ranking official, now is it? What is true is that this politician wanted to stop the Davis Cup match altogether. And what is true is that Arab votes in the constituency is much more numerous than the Jewish. Who wouldn't look the other way for a little Jew-hatred?

Other than that Im restaurating an old table, and the result is so, so. The fumes from the paint remover will probably have cost me quite a few brain cells, and if I had any clue how much work would be involved, I probably wouldn't have started it.

This simple

2009-04-22T01:41:00.001+03:00

words

simple as trees
simple as rain
simple as bucket

simple as the dirty hands of a child
after hours of playing under a clouded sky

simple as book
simple as care
simple as ease

simple as an old man smoking his pipe
on his front porch watching the autumn foliage

words

simple as home
simple as train
simple as night

simple as the tired gaze of an inner city cop
shedding his uniform after the night shift

simple as whisper
simple as mourning
simple as love

simple as the trembling hands of an abandoned man
reaching for the bottle as the night grows blacker

words

simple as death
simple as sun
simple as water

simple as the sorrows of an early summer morning
the city broad streets empty to the singing birds

simple as wing flaps
simple as grace
simple as end

simple as the hand of light that touches your heart
and make you struggle each and yet another day

words

when I die
even if I never said a single thruth
if everything I ever uttered was a lie
I’ll take them with me

Stalgia 1

2009-04-22T01:39:00.000+03:00

you chose another
I can’t blame you
it took me ten years to understand
why and
that the time and
the man you chose had made you
someone i couldn´t have loved
had made you another
woman

and ten more years for me to see
that life had made me another man
than the one you fell in love with so

at age forty now I know what
happened half a life ago or
do I

the tears of joy you showed me
running like the summer rain that
made your face a window
drove the scents of deep green
lawns that etched forever in my
heart this picture

a green park
a yellow bench
on it
a woman that is gone
a smile no longer yours

behind the camera
an aching heart
a man no longer me

a loss no longer mine

The mountaineer

2009-04-22T01:37:00.000+03:00

a man
a sun
beating beating beting burning
the surface of stone every
single cliff every ounce of
breathing air every browning
blade of grass
far below
scorched

a man climb a mountain the
sweat of his forehead his
burning palms his wild eyes
every sinue like viola strings
gasping fire

the third time
the last time

and the sun blots out
every purpose every
thought every last
bit of pride and vanity
even the memory of his
own name
and what it meant

climbing towards

hope
death
redemtion

and every moment
and every movement
and every burning
perception

thirst
sweat
pain

and there is no more time
and there is no more man
and there is no more

and it is all white and

it begins

Testimony in imperative, past and future

2009-04-22T01:35:00.000+03:00

the world is everything that is falling

people
leaves
debris
black stars and
drunks from bar stools

dices and dead mans hands and
queens of
hearts

like flashlights in
mining shafts

the world is
everything that is
falling

bodies loosing all humanity
in the iron grip of gravity
frozen in a leap of eternity

the world is everything that is falling

the angel of light
the god of might our
faith

the world is everything that is falling
our scrolls the splendid
universe that we were
given
and hearts
and faith
and a 1000 day fast
won’t make it better
won’t atone for it

the world is everything
that is falling

falling from the towers of babel
and the heights if innocence

choices, tools, the working hand
men – women – children
the wisdom of the very old and
very young
the past and future

the
world is everything that is falling petals
books in empty nigh-time libraries and
children finally – our last words an
open place where every language failed
every world a lie, an imprint every letter
over a screaming sky
and fell
fell

the world is everything that is falling
everything

ecxept rebellion and prayer

and you
you
you
and me

and the thousands
who silently know
the meaning of

one

narrative according to one of the confused passers-by

2009-04-22T01:33:00.000+03:00

she secretly
found herself a new lover
didn’t like his colour
painted him another

a short glance to
the mirror he
noticed said
nothing
took a shower

him
his wrist watch
corduroy trousers
blue and sun ray dancing dust
his reflection in the dark computer screen
finishing a cigarette for an eternity
gets up he says: i’m leaving

the door - the thud - the end

act II: from him: a letter:

i know you know
been there to and
im older so listen

see that corridor? white the end a door?
when you decide to leave i say when
close it don’t look back no more
that’s all

me? no fear i met someone
to her i am another
now try to rest

epilogue:

still lifes: beeper - cellphone - handheld

she secretly
grows herself a new colour
laughter cars and auction hollers
ocean mountain desert:

she

Notes on Noach

2009-04-22T01:32:00.001+03:00

So, Noach. Obviously he was a rightous man and had faith in Hashem, and once he was ordered to build the ark he did so with much tenacity, according to our sages during a period of 120 years, and probably accompanied by the ridicule of others, and this is admirable.

But his faith didnt make him an activist it seems. Before the flood, he was rightous and probably his family too, but we are not told that he actively tried to change the behaviour of his peers, or preach rightousness to others. He is also a bit fatalist if you compare him to Abraham (which seem to be the thing that is often done) or Moshe. Because once he is told that Hashem intends to wipe out humanity, he simply accepts it ans start building the ark. Compare that to how Abraham starts to haggle with Hashem over Sodom or Gemorra or how Moshe tells Hashem after the Golden Calf incident that if Hashem blots out Am Israel then he might as well remove Moshe from the book Hashem i writing. So when it comes to Abraham and Moshe, despite their absolute faith in Hashem, it doesn’t stop them from questioning His decision of from being equally loyal to Humanity and Am Israel.

This makes me think acually about a difference I perceive between Islam and Judaism (one of many). Clasiical Islam typically has an “Inshalla” atitude to things, a rather fatalist approach basically. If you are born in a poor shoemaker family, this is what God wants and thats that - you become a poor shoemaker or a poor shoemakers wife. So basically Noachs approach may be seen more one of “obediance”, while Abrahams and Moshes approach is more of “partners in creation”.

As for Rashi and the classical question of who is more rightous, Noach or Abraham, whether Noach was only rightous in comparison with his own rotten generation, or whetherwe should concur that he was superrightous as he was able to stay that way DESPITE being surrounded by the worst sinners imaginable, and hence, in the company of Abrahams peers, would have towered over him....hmmm....I guess I’m heretical enough to say that I dont really find the question very relevant: To me Abraham is more Jewish in his ways and he is hence closer to me. On the other hand his readiness to sacrifice Isaak is a display of completely blind faith that I honestly fail to understand - especially in light that he pleaded for the lifes of the people in Sodom and Gomorra, people he didn’t even know (with the exception of the fullblown sinner Laban). But...that might be something for next weeks parcha.

a people of bullhorns

2009-04-22T01:31:00.001+03:00

We are a people of bullhorns
we cry out in the night
we cry out in the dusty sunlight
but nobody really listens

its not that we don’t care
but all this digital shouting
craving attention
recognition
has dulled out our memory
and we have lost the art
the actual knowledge of sound
the craft of litening

one reed floating on the water surface
the hissing of atumn leaves
the pounding of our own hearts
a creaking wooden floor in an old house
long time ago

but there is an analogue wisper in the night
its present in the vast and lonely coountryside
can be heard above the din in the big cities
and if you listen carefully
over all our bullhorns

it speaks of birth
death
and of rebirth
of childrearing and of
sowing and reaping
od shelter for the very young
and the very old of loneliness
and leaving room for those to
follow

it has the power to teach us to direct our voices
it has the power to teach us to direct our voices
it has the power to teach us to direct our voices

and so
i will try to listen
and regain what has been lost to me

a zoom

2009-04-22T01:29:00.000+03:00

come closer
have a look at this picture a black
digital military style watch in oil paint

tic tac time that’ll pass and passed will pass
look - trees on fire bright yellow bright red leaves
falling
streets dark air dark leaves yellow sky dark blue
breathing
cool autumn breaths of higher space tic tac time dark
blue

streets
smell of winter like the childhood scent of
gas stations
cars and petrol

tic tac time the soothing sound of diesel engine
dunking nights
and memories of highrise concrete neighbourhoods
asleep and
reaching for the ever distant stars as if

snow now winter and cloud of ice and snow i feel the
biting cold
inhaled with every draw of smoke i see this line of
people at the
end
and

step away from this picture
the dry knacking of a grandfather clock
an open coffin closes sound of wooden screws

a rite taken place
steps on gravel

with one swift move reclaim the ever stolen words and
fail:

night

love

rain

Doña Leonor in Memoriam, 10th September 2007

2009-04-22T01:26:00.000+03:00

I was a young man, of course I didn’t think so so at the time but I was, and as we came in for landing I remember feeling intimdated, the deeply green trees surrounding the first stretch of the runway ,and the wooden schacks lining the the outskirts of the AirPort, all seemed so foreign. The heavy Boewing touched down in Santafe de Bogota, Colombia. The AirPort was cluttered with heavily armed police and soldiers. The scents were those of dirt, of noice, dust, heat, machineguns and palm trees. This was in July 1993. I was a very long way from home.

I found a home though. After three months I moved in with a married couple in a house in a working class neighbourhood. The house was a rundown miracle. leaking trough badly during the regularly recurring deluges that turned the streets into rivers. The couple was Just a miracle. The house was situated at the foot of the Andes mountain ridge and the non heated water was freezing. I paid 50 $ a month for room and board.

Doña Leonors and Don Carlos were in their late 50:s. Their daughter who still lived at home left for Euorope. Doña Leonor was a glorious person, impossible not to fall in love with. She was very short, with a round weathered face, curious and sympathetic brown eyes, a girlish smile and a lot of points of view as to how I lived my life. There were specifically two things that worried her: My incessant smoking of the filterfree local cigarette brand Piel Roja, and my consumption of Agua Ardiente, the local booze. Many years earlier she had convinced her husband both to quit smoking and drinking. Doña Leonor was very much into healthy living and every morning she led a workout group of house wives in a local park. Her cooking basically consisted of vegatables without fat or salt, not the kind of food I preffered at the time. She would allways get up very early. When I got up she would give me coffe and a bowl of the colombian specialty - Changua Con Silantro. A rather special speciality that took me a while to get used to, but when I did, I learned to love it. Sort of like the anarchic, noicy and chaotic city I lived in. It took a while, but eventually it grew on you.

In the evenings I would sit in the kitchen and play guitar as Doña Leonor was washing up after dinner. I’d play the songs I loved. Her favourite was “Este es un nuevo día” by Argentinian songwriter Facundo Cabral. Or she would keep us company while I and Don Carlos played chess. Doña Leonor was a simple woman in the best sense. She was a force of good. Her hands were big and brown after so many years of hard work and so was her heart. For six months she prepared my food, washed my clothes, listened to my guitar and worried about my drinking. And made me feel a lot less lonely.

I met Doña Leonor and Don Carlos a few months ago when they came to visit their newest grandson. We talked and had a cup of coffe and Doña Leonor asked me if I still was drinking too much. It was good to see them.

Doña Leonor died a week ago at age 71, leaving her husband and four children. You are dearly missed. Sleep tight, beautiful lady.

Thoughts on Atheism and morality....

2009-04-22T01:23:00.000+03:00

When blaming Atheism for the rise of moral relativism, are we to some extent confusing Atheists with Agnostics of the kind that hardly even think about it? As far as I undertand true Atheists are people who are standing in a constant, and often painful, relation to G-d, albeit negative. As atheism as we know it it is a relatively new phonomenon, I don’t think it wrong to call it sort of a reverse-image Monotheism. Serious Atheists must make a hard effort to grasp what they are denying. Among such atheists I would count Albert Camus (Especially The Plague and The myth of Sisyphos). He accepts Nietzhes idea that “G-d is dead”, but rejects the conclusion that “All is permissable”, and fortwith dedicates his life to prove that there still are motives to act morally, and this with an almost desperate air to it. When I studied Ethics at University, I noticed that most of the Die-Hard Atheist Utilitarian Philosphers still demanded a metaphysics that contained some sort of objective “Value Enitities” that somehow would stand in correlation to the Utilitarian prescibed or forbidden actions. This would ensure that morality actually was something objectively true, irrespective of human thinking...But what could possibly that be? Only one thing could ever make that equation work: Hashem. Same thing with my best friend since childhood: Die-Hard atheist and the most morally stringent person I have ever met, constantly evaluating his own actions so that they be in accord with the strictest Monotheistic standards (mush more so than me). When I ask him why he doesn’t have an answer. Active Ahtheists are a weird bunch. Sometimes I think, at least when it comes to G-d, that belief in Absolute Truth, and belief in it’s negation aren’t nevessarily that very different.

Makes me think of the Rabbi who met a very furious woman who had lost her son at a young age and had become an Atheist. She declared to the Rabbi that ever since, every year on Yom Kippur she would get drunk and feast on copious amounts of Bacon.
- Well, said the Rabbi, at least you are celebrating it.

Meaning, once again, I’m a lot more scared of people who doesn’t care than of Atheists.

Sholem Aleichem.

Shul behaviour and pot smoking

2009-04-22T01:20:00.001+03:00

So how exactly should you behave in Shul? I mean on one hand it is fairly simple: Just pick up any standard “Judaism for dummies” book and it will tell you that during service s Shul is a house of prayer, period, and the only conversation that should be going on is the individuals and the congregations conversation with the Almighty. On the other hand we have the facts of reality, maybe best summoned up by the following comment: “Well....Feinstein goes to Shul to speak to God....me I go to Shul to speak to Feinstein.”

I guess at least in small Diaspora communities, there is only so much you can do about it. We tend to have enough problems to get a Minyan together as it is. So as long as people don’t start babbling during the Amidah, babbling is more or less tolerated. Then again, severe conflicts of interest occur, specifically during High Holidays. Because then a lot of people who otherwise never attend Shul turns up, bumping into other more or less secular Jews who they only meet once or twice a year, and naturally they have a lot of catching up to do. On the other hand you have the religious people and the daily minyan people for whom the day is among the most sacred of the year, and the last thing they want is to hear about the bench neighbours new car, or the daughters new boyfrined during Kol Nidre. Last year parts of the Yom Kippur service could hardly be heard because the Chazzen, a man flown in from Israel for Yom Kippur, with a very strong voice, could hardly make this strong voice heard over the crowds incessant chatting. Finally one of the Kohanim had a fit of rage and broke into the service shouting out the importance of this day and asked people to for Heaveans sake stop babbling like chickens. And the crowd quieted down for a while. But basically it is a dilemma because we can not make our Shuls into places reserved for only the Pious, they have to be places for all Klal Israel. So there is really no way of “solving” this problem.

Anyway, I came to think of this because yesterday on Shabbath Shacharit a friend of mine interrupted in the middle of Mourners Kaddish to inform me that he had been smoking weed the other night (after, I hope, saying Shabbes Kiddush) and that it was so great, he hadn’t done it for 10 years, and he really wanted to get his hand on some more. I told him that he actually was 38 and not 15 and left it at that. But it did bug me.

Breaking Shabbes to smoke weed is hardly very kosher, nor is bugging people during prayer to tell of such activities even remotely OK, but my annoyance stemmed also from my deep dislike for drugs.

I haven’t always been religious and I grew up in a tough neighbourhood. And the drug liberals can argue until they are blue in the face about freedom from paternalism, this will always be a question of the strong arguing their rights to have access to drugs they (believe they can) handle over the weeks protection from complete humiliation and degradation. Drug addicts commit violent acts against themselves and the people around them. I have met many potheads who never got hooked on heavier drugs, many of them having smoked every day for many, many years, and believing them to be as bright as they ever were, having taken no damage. But I have never met a non-pothead agreeing with them. But even more importantly: You will find absolutely nobody hooked on coke that did not start out with weed. Nobody smoking brown heroine who did not start out smoking weed. Nobody has ever died in a public rest room with a stained needle in the arm who did not start his or her career with pot. And unfortunately I have known people in all those categories. Some lived. Some didn’t.

There is Hallacha to the effect that you should abide by the laws of the land were you sojourn as long as they do not go against Hallacha and Hallacha certainly do not promote drugs, and hardly any countries allow Cannabis (Including Israel). But I wish I knew of a stronger Hallachic statement against drugs. I suppose one might say that this is the world Hashem created for us, and hence to use drugs that take you very far from how he intended for us to perceive of his Creation is disrespectful. After all he created our senses knowing how and what they would show us of his magnificent world. If he had wanted the trees to fly and the ocean to be yellow, that is what he would have made. But these are just my thoughts. If anyone out there knows of such Hallacha, please inform me.

And if you feel like sharing you drug experiences with members of your congregation, do it after service.

Taxi

2009-04-22T01:19:00.000+03:00

tunnel the

shifting: light shadow light shadow light light shadow

soothing like a lullaby the
scent of leather

drunk and smelly father and son the
son asleep on his shoulder his

eyes tender

she covers her heart in makeup trembling
hands pays cash wrinkeled bills
her heart a
knitted baby hat her eyes longing
her hands to hold the distance
from terminal to future

closing

and from the hospital the short
distance to their lodging becomes
the final rift over which no words can wander

old hands and old rings holding
on holding warmth old
glasses and an old inscribed gold gold

retirement watch

it is a lullaby
they fall asleep
no more tunnel

and it’s dawn

and it’s daylight

and it’s dusk

and night

and i

will own the shadows
and this light

Entity

2009-04-22T01:17:00.000+03:00

in darkness
one source of light the
tip of my cigarette

a soothing smell of gasoline
a sleepiness of many miles behind the wheel

a voice in the dark
a girl on my bed asking me

to follow her on the last leg of a long journey
tell her a story of the lifes of albatrosses
give her one more blanket for the evening cold
to buy her a yellow toy car with red pedals

sometimes she is my fathers mother
sometimes she is the girl from the lost and found department
sometimes she is my future daughter

the metal taste of off loss and longing in my mouth
the warm smell of summer night

i bid her farewell
stamp out the cigarette
but it is warm here and i am waiting