January 31, 2006
I spent the latter part of yesterday afternoon scurrying around the corridors of the grand YMCA building in Jerusalem, and, with Ifat, wondering how Jerusalem is such a combination of Chelm, Marx brothers' movies, and Kafka's castle. All 8 of us had gotten delayed and lost on the way, in 4 separate cars, all of us seemed disappointed by the quality of the coffee and service and all of us were a bit stunned by the quantity and the elegance of the people at the cafes. It was like all of us were coming from a little town into the big city, in the sense that the codes were not clear to us. And yet it was also the opposite. The old Jerusalem needless complexity, its lack of logic, its inherent inequality, and its complete interrelatedness all got to us - or at least to me.
The little YMCA theatre, where we auditioned - by the way - was a pearl of art deco. Who were the other people who auditioned with (or against) us? They all seemed Russian, with their puppets and extreme costumes and operatic voices. And here we are into progressive rock, feminist, immigration and identity. sure we have a chance.
February 1,2006
"You're lucky your audition wasn't the day before," the cab driver said to me, "you would have been interwound in the funeral of the Rabbi Kadouri, with its 200000 mourners at the entrance of the city. Or yesterday when there were religious riots protesting the autopsy of a haredi woman who had been murdered..."
Jerusalem is yesterday's news. Today is the question of the evacuation of the illegal settlement, Amona. And the question is do we follow laws that keep changing? We have a problem with laws anyway - living in the diaspora for so many generations, where the only way to survive was to get AROUND the laws, we now have to learn that we're the ones making the laws and we're responsible for keeping them.
So now we're watching the evacuation live. ynet gives you a similar effect.
Many years ago I was involved in demonstrations in the U.S. We were told that when police come at you, you 'go limp.' You don't throw colored water at them, or eggs,or rocks, and you certainly never tell a man with a bat what to do. So beside the whole legality of the building of settlers homes on Palestinian land, there are some immediate reality issues. The fact that the settlers are now blaming Ehud Olmert for using them as a campaign symbol is so idiotic it is impossible to respond.
But it is emblematic of the entire political rationale of some of the people who are now nursing some serious wounds.
The controversy over the museum seems to have come to an abrupt halt. Now that the donors have withdrawn their contribution, the museum is mourning the loss of the greatest donation it has ever received, and the loss to the world of art in Tel Aviv. There is no doubt that the money was sorely needed. The worn carpets, the unpainted walls, the general seediness of the museum makes its situation pretty obvious. And who are we to question the capitalistic or egotistic motivations of people who are willing to give money to the arts. Don't we know that the wonderful folks who brought us the Renaissance were tyrants and murderers? Still, still, how can we possibly reconcile the ideologies in Israeli art itself with such obvious anti-ideological motivation?
And why am I not kvetching about the Hamas? Let's see what happens first.
p.s. Robert Rosenberg at Ariga as usual has a fascinating outlook on today's events.
February 2, 2006
Everybody's got a broken skull today. Everyone's been hit in the head by this mess. As for me, unlike 50% of the local population, I don't 'blame' the settlers. How do you blame people who have been fed an ideology? And I don't 'blame' the police or the government for enforcing laws. The problem with the government is its known lack of consistency when it comes to law enforcement. And its unwillingness to educate and discuss anything.
My style has been drastically hampered by the fact that Shusha needs a daily injection - it means I have to go to the underground parking garage of the local shopping center, walk an unwilling, rheumatic dog a block or so, and then wait my turn with all the other suckers. Despite the fact that, as I have often mentioned, I wish I could have the vet as my GP, I don't enjoy these visits, so tonight the situation was ameliorated by some sushi next door. But not much. I don't know why. There was nothing wrong with the sushi - it had the same ingredients as my favorite authentic places in Manhattan have - and yet it felt to me like Poland. Even the sake tasted more like my father's kvass than sake. It must have been the provincial neighborhood, the proximity to the vet, the JIP waitresses. Right?
Usually when I eat in 'ethnic' restaurants in Tel Aviv, I feel the authenticity, and praise the fact that this part of our diaspora mentality is still intact. what am i saying? everything is somehow ethnic here.
February 3,2006
2 requests of very different significance: 1) When asked about the film that won the Golden Globe award this year, "Paradise Now," I didn't respond, thinking that since I didn't see the film I don't have the right to evaluate it, but as time passes I know more and more that I will never be able to bear seeing it, and so I will comment on that point. That a film that justifies murder in any way hurts me physically (to the point where my health is affected), and when it's the murder of my friends the pain is even greater. So to see it and evaluate it is out of the question. And by the way, the film was made in Israel, and is a joint production. And the lack of credit in the press is strange, indicating a necessity to mythologize the significance of the film by destroying the reality.
"That was you?" a friend said recently when I noted that my poems had been on the walls of the clothing chain "Comme Il Faut." "Yes, you could see my name if you brought a magnifying glass with you to the stores." I answered. "Why didn't you insist on proper acknowledgment?" she asked. I was so surprised by its absence I didn't think to say anything. I kept thinking the recognition would come as the line of clothes slowly emerged. But nothing came and the clothes didn't bear my name except on the tag, and despite my deep involvement with the subject, I left it alone. Sometimes silence appears to be complicity and perpetuates the situation. But speaking to correct a situation may be interpreted as wannabe rhetoric. February 4, 2006
This is one of the problems with Israel sometimes. It just doesn't look good when we tell what we know.
The conflict is built into me. My two grandmothers were next door neighbors, and in the evenings would sit on their porches and talk - My father's mother would praise her children, one by one, in great detail. My mother's mother was always silent, and her children, all listening in, would complain to her, "Why don't you brag about us?" And my grandmother would say - "I shouldn't have to brag - their accomplishments are obvious." (This story is for my cousin - to comment on and correct. I got it from my mother so it may be wrong.) But it doesn't really matter - it shows something about both sides of me and the people I came from.. It also tells you about what I talk about and don't talk about in these pages.
This sun came out for Shabbat morning and made the parks and playgrounds around here particularly attractive.
It is probably similar in all the parks around the world - the early morning for dog walkers, then for old peoples' outings with their caregivers, then for children and parents. But in this neighborhood, with its aged population that is gradually being replaced by that of young couples, the contrast is more extreme. But the mood is extremely relaxed - even the pigeons don't scare.
