Kinda slow on blogging these days. Doing the internal journeying thing and not very out there. All is good.
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I’ve been taking lots of pictures lately, and enjoying the simultaneous distance and closeness that comes with it; distance because it allows me to be a viewer, a bystander, and closeness because of the momentary bond created with the photographee.
Today, I went to the shuk/open-air market in central Jerusalem. I was surprised at how many vendors, normally aggressive types, shied from being photographed. I got yelled at a couple of times. But the wink from the very kind-looking redhead at the bread shop compensated for the other drama.
Redhead at the bread stand
Shabbat will be hectic, with many people sharing the table. I’d prefer the quiet, but this’ll happily do.
It’s been so long since I’ve posted anything, so it seems. Maybe it’s the great mental shift. I’m in Israel, peeps. Yup, the Holy Land. Taking lots of photos and breathing a different kind of air. It’s sweet, and I like it here.
Last week I went to a hippie festival on a hilltop, with an awesome view of nearby hills twinkling in the distance. The air was pungent with bbq, cigarettes (and weed). People were dressed in Woodstockian spirit…. real grunge gorgeousness, and they danced with such soul. It was a good night to be in love, which I’m not, but it could’ve/would’ve/might’ve been.
I’m off to Israel tomorrow for the next month. What an awesome and welcome surprise. Thank G-d, I’ve got a cool and generous grandma who is sponsoring my ticket. Riding some pre-travel anxiety, and compulsively imagining what’s-to-be, but all in all, happy to be going. I’ll be staying in my favorite Jerusalem neighborhood, Katamon. It has Anglo sensibility, which keeps me normal amidst some of the more dynamic Israeli folk.
In other news, I cut my hair over the bathroom sink yesterday, with uneven results. Lucky my hair is curly, so it’s difficult to see. But the fundamental imbalance sitting atop my head is making me nervous. I suspect it looks something like Matisse’s “Algerian Woman,” except he painted her crookedness so poetically.
Matisse, The Algerian Woman. 1909. Oil on canvas. Musée National d'Art Moderne. Paris, France.
Had a grand time in the city last night (NYC). Took out food from one of my fave spots in the East Village, and friend and I secretly sneaked it into a movie theater where we spread ourselves out in the empty balcony seating, and enjoyed.
While away, I will miss the dynamism and beauty of my city, but I’m trading it in for a slew of awesomeness and soul nourishment that exists only in Israel.