Thoughts @ 31

Turned 31 a couple hours ago. Some nice plans for the b-day: a show - one of 4 in a week(!), a planned "craaaazy" afterparty.. rehearsals, friends, music. stuff I like.

Had written a post on my 30th which I'd evidently forgot to publish (a little late now, so.. never mind), but in it I tried to describe major changes from the previous year, or just stuff that was on my mind at the time. Let's have a go this time round! So:

The first major change this year was the regular exposure to what had previously been relegated to a status worse than "false" - it had been plain uninteresting to me: religion. Nope, still the same atheist I've been for a while now, but found religious people, as well as the bible, interesting, for the first time. This through a group of friends who meet round the "parshat shavua" once a week, which I stumbled on pretty much by chance. Rather than being the pathetic-bachelor club I suspected it would be, all awkward and transparent, it proved to be a remarkably varied, interesting and intelligent group of people.

So first of all, I was making new friends. This on its own was a novelty because, though I hadn't thought about it, my core group of friends had remained staunchly rooted in my high-school years and my musical exploits. That was it. So the dynamics of becoming friends when you're older, more self-aware and more self-defined, proved interesting on their own. Won't bore with details.

The second aspect of these meetings, as I mentioned, was that religion as such suddenly became interesting. For one thing, just the wildly varying shades of observance and strictness, a terrific quality in Jerusalem, was fascinating. People modern in every way but...; people who look more closed but are actually budding open-ists; and of course people who just genuinely are who they are, different from me in some ways and so similar in others. Combined with this culture of ours, this man-made tradition that for me contains so many clues, pointing at a melting pot of historical circumstance, human psychology, economics, politics and, well, more human psychology, it becomes quite fascinating. The religious text we cover each week with tremendous variety in approach and appraisal, is in itself fascinating for its own circumstance and, yes, its constant drawing power. So that's one thing that's changed.

What's stayed largely the same is the existential realization that hit me so strongly just one year and two days ago. What are we doing here and, more importantly, what am I going to do about, remain in one way or another a preoccupation informing a lot of my perceptions of this world and my life. I'm fascinated by people, what drives them, their follies and their genius; but in all this I still can't formulate a cut-and-dry path that feels right for me.

Something that emerged a little more strongly this year was the focus on the individualistic (as opposed to the universalit) viewpoint. Anyone who tries to hammer out a single, one-size-fits-all doctrine for living - or what is "right" - will earn my immediate suspicion. We are all different people, with very different needs and even basic characteristics. There are totally different mentalities, interests and perceptions amongst people. The breakdown in cultural narratives (believe it or not, I'm not a sociology major), something that always felt a little bit of a shame, now seems more inevitable and plain sensible in today's world. Like it or not, we're no longer the small, nomadic tribes we once were. In fact, every nation on earth has gotten a little too big to be held together by cross-cultural dogma.

I don't say this angrily or with a chip on my shoulder. I'm not trying to violently tear down anything. I personally am not in any way a misanthrope - on the contrary, outside of some private music, pretty much all my lasting, deep enjoyment or contentment comes from people. So it pains me a little when these statements get pigeonholed and somehow make me out as a contrarian, rebel or heretic. I'm just saying - blind beliefs don't work for me. I'm trying to improve our collective future just as much as any socially-minded believer might, in saying these beliefs have to be tailor made. I'll cringe as much as anyone at the shallow, materialistic mentality so often on display (anyone seen the tv-series "Mechubarot"? kvetch kvetch kvetch! geez, when did whine replace personality?) but I'm a firm individualist.

Relationships? Mmm.. Had a few nice shorts, but if we're talking about thoughts and realizations, let's see... what's new, what's new.. Nothing, I think. Just as mystified as ever. Probably a bit more confused, if anything. No sweeping statements or ideas to be made this time around.

And another random update for posterity - this year got me more intellectually interested in trying to characterize and correct the tremendous amounts of plain bull in common economic, social and political thinking. I'm not talking about our leaders - everyone knows what they're full of. I'm talking about regular, otherwise intelligent people: I'm plain bewildered by all the hip-shooting, snap judgment, opinion-as-fact, dramatics-as-evidence, revisionism for its own sake, conservatism for its own sake, and willful ignorance of counterarguments that I come across in ordinary, web-bourne and face-to-face conversation. It's like "reasoning" isn't even in the lexicon...

Mood-wise it's been up and down, but at the end of the day, I'm still more up than down. Thank ? for small pleasures. ;)

Dreams Vs. Reality, Round 9

Welcome to the boxing match inside my head: On this corner, weighing in at 300 pounds, pummeling anything in its path - it's Reality! And on this corner, weighing it at [intentionally left blank], looking like the most incredible woman I've ever laid eyes on, it's Dreams! And what a sweet talker she is.. sometimes she can bring reality to it's knees with a few suggestive promises...

I've had this for years, actually. Leave an incredibly loud, chaotic rock show, attended by people 5-10 my junior, at around 3AM, get up for work, And wonder what the hell I'm doing. The next day I'll be fine.. but every once in a while I'll come home, and feel a twinge of longing..

Right now, there are several Israeli bands touring somewhere on another continent. One of them has made a proper "career" out of constant motion - a good 200 or so shambolic shows a year, alternately touring Europe and the States. I seriously doubt they're financially all that profitable; in fact, once they finally take a break - 3+ years and counting of constant touring, those crazy bastards - I wouldn't be surprised if they come back more or less breaking even. But they will have lived; made use of their time on this earth. Their reality is my dream. and every once in a while it completely kills me.

I was on a tour a couple years ago, and just thrived on the change of scenery, the disconnect from "normal" life, the parties, the little stories, the nighttime stillness at a truck-stop in Montana. An incredible adventure.

Standing between me and this is my own rationality, and my own penchant for - how ironic is this? - stability. I'm well and truly split. I do the day job thing well. It's not my favorite thing in the world to do, and I certainly don't define myself by it, but I do do it well, and there's a degree of comfort I've learned to appreciate. Still, out there is this chaotic, crazy existence beckoning me, where you literally live off your music and have no idea what tomorrow brings. Brilliant. To do it, though, I would have to poke a pretty big hole in my reality - really make some fundamental changes, and some significant sacrifices to boot...

Dreams and reality. As time goes on, one seems more and more to preclude the other. And as I move into my 30s it becomes obvious I have to take some kind of stand, do a leap of faith. I've got two polar directions to leap and two voices in my head battling it out in a long, on-again-off-again, grueling battle.

So far I'm still watching, but this fight is getting ugly...

House, M.E.

2-3 years after the rest of the world, I've finally caught up with the series "House, M.D." The bits and pieces I had seen of it before led me to severe bias against the show, what with the rapid-fire, "too cool to be real" dialog and the beautiful people on screen. "Blech," I thought, "more American non-realistic drivel." But now that I've finally been watching it - and this only applies through season 2, hoping it doesn't go down hill! - I think the series, and the character of House in particular, are sheer genius.

It would be way too long for me to go into all the qualities I think make the series so good, but there's one aspect in particular I find myself relating to so much - House's repeated ducking of redemption. He will forego emotion, wrestle with his leg and pill addiction, never actually say a kind word to anyone, etc. If you've watched the series, it's referenced directly many times. But the beauty of the series is in setting up your expectations that he may be saved. After all, the other characters are all so much more emotional.. or emotive. There's subtle humor to soften you as you watch. The characters are beautiful. So you kind of assume that in the thick of it all, House himself will finally be saved. Surely, in the season finale he'll be cured. Or realize something life changing. or fall in love. But the brilliant scriptwriters never allow it to happen.

Oh, how I saympathise. Maybe you've been there - in your 30s, relationship dry spell, somewhat hyperactive mind - or maybe your mind just goes hyperactive because you've been living on your own so long that? On those nights with nothing special to do, you begin analyzing yourself psychologically. and analyzing the fact that you're analayzing yourself. and ideas come and go. they seem so important until the next time a little distraction comes along and you forget all about it. Unless it's 4AM and you think, whilst in the shower, "I've got to get this feeling down." True story - I'm sure you've guessed...

If you're in a situation anywhere near this, maybe you also feel torn. I've spent the last several years unwittingly striking some sort of delicate balance between an almost blind worship of the purely rational - House style, to a degree - yet carrying some hope of redemption. That a truly major change is just around the corner... or maybe a little further on, but it's coming. Meanwhile, of course, my "purely" rational intellect is reminding me this is all nonsense, and that the quicker I put aside these passive hopes and focus on some personal building, then maybe there's some chance of this all not being in vain. But no matter what happens - I mustn't ever, ever count on it. because that's just plain folly. Not now. not after I'm 30, and still nothing big has changed. and no love to be seen.

So House strikes a very deep chord with me. As a series, it fully recognizes the power of these hopes - without poo-pooing them. in fact, it builds you up to believe in their worth. Just as you're primed to really feel something, House will always manage to evade his own happiness. If the opportunity arrises, he'll mess it up; generally, his mind will make sure he doesn't even get that far.

It's just a tv show, I know. But catch me at a certain time, in a certain disposition, and I'll feel just like that. screwed, lost, and trying to rationalize my way away from it. Away, never out of it.


P.S.

After watching season 3, I realize I must've come off as an especially arrogant bastard. It contains an already solidified - and expressly referenced - view of House as near-infallible, genuinely arrogant, and relatively comfortable in loneliness. I didn't mean to compare myself to any of this. Avid viewers with a good memory may recall that none of those were certain in the first couple of seasons. To clarify, my empathy concerned only the "earlier" House, when some kind of redemption still appeared possible and welcome (and the arrogance still appeared a defence mechanism), and had nothing to do with his ostensible brilliance...

Palm Desert

"Oh, that's not good.."

"What, what happened?"

"Your palms.. it's not a good sign." She'd read my palms a long time ago. Got quite a bit right, as well. Blind luck...

Just that moment, someone walked in the room, and she turned to engage them in some mundane conversation. I hesitated for a moment, but decided to let it go. A few minutes later, she got ready to leave.

"That's it? You're just going to leave me hanging like this?"

"Well, ok.. but do you really want to discuss it in this forum?"

"Come, I'll walk you out." A few paces down the hall, I was all ears.

"no, it's just that I saw you have some frustration."

"You got that from across the room? wha..?"

"Yeah, I could see it. Some kind of deep frustration, like something isn't progressing as it should, or isn't going the right way."

I was stunned. "Sometimes you scare me with how well you read this stuff."

"Do you want to.."

"No. Bye, see you tomorrow."

Midnight, on a Bench, ____ Street

It feels pointless at moments, like I'm on display. But then again - so is everyone else. We're even on that score.

On select moments within the daily humdrum, when I free my mind enough to think, I feel a vague sensation of trying to unravel this big riddle. Except it's too difficult. Requires too much sustained concentration. So like a Rubik's Cube wasted on the impatient, I toss the riddle aside, figuring I'll chip away at it some other time. But each time, I'm starting from scratch.

Tonight I'm alone.

The weather is perfect. Light breeze. Cool, not cold. It's a special experience. stretches of noise, cars whizzing by, punctuated by moments of silence. Relief. It's not them that I'm here for, though.

Random moments in people's lives: young, religious girl helping her grandmother down the street; hip Jerusalemites, with their 3/4 pants and sandals, congregating outside some bar - discussing their big travels, big career plans and, of course, the big soccer match; a solitary young woman in colorful shuk garb shows up on the horizon, grows larger and larger as she comes near, then past me and into the car; the obvious first-date couple, "uhhhh"-ing away at each other through their best attempts at a natural grin; the smokers, communicating by proximity rather than language, like a pack of cats on a lazy afternoon; the mad biker, going for a speed record whilst pulling off a wheelie. But by and large, each and every person is in a box and outside of it. Ultimately indescribable.

Then comes someone I know.

"Hi."

"Hey."

"So, you like sitting on this bench?"

"Oh, no. I'm waiting for someone.."

Nahlaot Purim Street Party

So much girl, so little woman.

Things I'd Never Ever Say

"Look, you and I - we're businessmen.."

"All this violence. Why can't we just get along?"

"I hear Brangelina.."

"Wow, you guys were great! Very Pink Floyd-meets-Madonna..."

"It's not what you say, it's how you say it. Seriously."

"Don't worry. I'm sure the government will take care of it."



Things I may (sadly) never say:

"I do."

"Funny, we've been asked that a lot lately - but I'm afraid you'll just have to wait for the next album..."

"It's got 4 wheels, it was made after 2000, and it's mine!"

"It's got 4 rooms, the location's great, and it's ours!"

"Every Man a Matchmaker." And?

(I'll start by pointing out that I'm not religious. Just FYI... Still, I come from a traditional home, haven't an ounce of "anti", and get by just fine with my religious friends. Put another way, I'm not particularly gagging to move to Tel Aviv. :) )

Rabbi Shmuley Boteach has been named "the most famous rabbi in America" by Newsweek. I first ran into his name through reviews of his bestseller Kosher Sex which, at the time, screamed "sensationalist" to me. I've since come to see he's got some good ideas up his sleeve, even if - like so many other self-anointed saviors - he often states what should be the obvious. His expansion of what "attraction" means, beyond the surface-level denotation it has today, is remarkably important, especially to the many guilt-ridden religious people out there. I take issue, though, with his last syndicated article, "Every Man a Matchmaker", which ran in this weekend's Jerusalem Post.

The article certainly makes for a good read, and though he's mainly writing to religious Jewish singles here, much of his descriptions will sound familiar to singles of all stripes. Boteach gives a reasonably accurate, if somewhat simplistic, overview of the reasons singles today aren't getting married (or at least not to the right person).

The first part of the problem, as Boteach sees it, lies with today's "shallow values" (his words). He claims these have penetrated "even" the "very Orthodox dating scene, where stick-thin women are paired up to young men from wealthy families, and where character is subordinated to pedigree." As he goes on to say, "In the secular world, of course, it's much worse." So, in short - it's a crisis of values. I'll get back to this later.

He then goes on to paint an amusing picture of the dire options facing the average single - covering singles parties, bars, speed dating, internet dating and matchmaking - and ruling them out. In one particularly sharp observation, he writes:

"Speed-dating is one of the most puzzling relationship ideas to come along in years. Take a generation of commitment-phobic young people, who are already dating-addicts and love anorexics, and cater to their obsession for variety by having them date 10 people at once! What wonderful preparation for monogamy!"

The second part of the problem, then, lies with flawed options for how to meet people.

Having set out such a frank overview, I had high hopes for whatever solution he was going to come up with. Must say I found it more than a little disappointing. The solution, he claims, is having everyone play matchmaker:

"Every man and every woman must take it upon themselves to introduce the single people they know to each other. We all believe in giving charity and we all believe in acts of loving-kindness. Now, is there any higher act of kindness than curing someone else's loneliness?"

That's it? After having systematically ruled out the other possibilities as inherently flawed to the point of pointlessness, he's going with the friend-brings-friend system? A quick look around my hometown shows that this system is at least as flawed as any of the others he finds fault with. (You'll either have to trust me on this or read the article, if you haven't yet. Go! Read! it's not long.) Jerusalem's infamous "swamp", that area of neighborhoods teeming with semi-cool, semi-desperate religious 20-somethings, has everyone busy matchmaking all the time, with plenty of still-frustrated singles complaining about feeling smothered, seeing the same old faces, feeling it's all a bit too forced. My point isn't that this system is bad, only that it has its own problems, and isn't fundamentally better than the rest.

So what's my solution, you ask? Well, as far as what options to go for, I just say - whatever you're comfortable with. Diversify. I wouldn't fundamentally endorse any technique over another - odds are fairly low no matter what you do - but you can try to enjoy yourself while you're looking.

As for the main problem, I agree with Rabbi Boteach that at heart, it's those "shallow values". I do take issue, however, with his off-hand assumption that the problems are "much worse" in the secular culture. I would say they're different, but not "much worse". The secular problems are quite widely known, so let me just point out one problem I see quite often in the religious world: many of them seem paralyzed by the sheer gravity of it all. They have more guilt for lusting, since they ought to be "caring about the inside". They can't touch, yet are dying too. But mainly, every encounter becomes incredibly decisive - since marriage is such an immediate, pressing concern. This brings a tendency to focus on every flaw in the other person - "do I want to live my whole life with this person? I should decide now" - and to measure every word, instead of just enjoying oneself and giving the relationship some breathing-space.

Obviously, for many if not most religious singles this isn't the case, and people handle it differently. The imperative to marry can bring more "results", but it can also paralyze. I am not generalizing, only saying it does happen, and more often than Boteach seems to think. "Shallow values" may be slightly more acute among the secular, but religious singles certainly have problems of their own in this "get-married-now" ethos.

So how do we deal with shallow values? Well, they're all around us, so the battle becomes quite individual. A proper answer would be quite long, but as time goes on, I feel more and more that the gist of it is: by growing up.

In Praise of (Single) Womankind

This isn't going to be some feminist manifesto, nor some teenage-y "grrrls do it better" populist blather. It won't be in praise of any "innate" multitasking abilities at child-rearing or home keeping (it's not anyway), emotional depth, ability for compassion, "fairer sex" theories etc. The fact of the matter is, I haven't lived with you, nor been in a long-term relationship with you. I'm going to write from the only angle I have - that of perennial single-guy.

This can be saddening and disheartening at times. But only now am I finally settling down to realize that through it all, even with the disappointments and perplexing acts of self-contradiction, irrationality and occasional cruelty, it's always been fun. It's always been thrilling to get the attention from those of you that have given it. Even when it's felt badly mismatched - and I've gotten pretty good at weeding those out beforehand - It's always been interesting. I say this at eye level, not cynically and not arrogantly: thank you. Besides music, I know of nothing else nearly as life-affirming.

Keep driving me nuts. I'm open.

Recovering Romantic?

I'm either a recovering romantic or a realist with a romanticism problem.

Scratch that - cliched as it may be, I think it's both.

"Swing Swing" Goes the Pendulum

After the last, gloomy post, hope for the future has been somewhat restored... It doesn't take much to put a smile back on my face after all. :)

Apologies for the cry wolf...

"I Was Wasting My Time..."

"I was wasting my time trying to fall in love
disappointment came to me and booted me and bruised and hurt me"

"I was wasting my time praying for love /
For the love that never comes from someone who does not exist."

- Morrissey, "That's How People Grow Up"

Many years ago, when I was a kid, I remember discovering what I thought was the most ingenious time-saving technique: when looking to cross a street and the crosswalk light was red, I could save time by walking towards the destination on my side of the street, while keeping an eye out for the next green light. Brilliant! I felt quite pleased with myself. "Now I'm a man," I metaphorically said, "I've unlocked the last of life's mysteries. There is no more knowledge left to be discovered!" Hey, waddaya want? I was like 8 or something..

For the past few years - and I think I'm not alone among bachelors my age - I've essentially been using this trick where relationships were concerned. During my many dry spells, I sort of figured I could make up for future lost time by at least accruing wisdom. I'd listen to my friends' tales of marvelous successes and horrible failures, observe, read, concoct hypotheses, theorize; and maybe, maybe - I'd be that much smarter for when it was my "turn". I'd know what to look out for. I'd have picked up some advice without paying the price others have. I'd circumvent the so-common disastrous relationship, and skip to the real deal. So sure, maybe I'd lose out on the wonderful turbulent-yet-romantic crosswalk of 20-something love, but I'd still be strolling across from it on my end of the street, gazing patiently, ready to leap straight into "good relationship" - whatever that means - as soon as I would pass by a green-lighted crosswalk.

The problem with that idea is that it presupposed I'd hit a green light at some point. To be honest - I'm getting less and less sure. This isn't a desperation thing- not some impending-30s crisis or neighbor's-greener-grass complex - nor an expression of lack of self-confidence, it's simply an attempt to realign expectations with reality. The assumption that "you'll find someone", "every pot has its lid" etc. just ain't working out for this novel-in-progress.

In the past, I've always had my deep-set optimism to rely on to snap me out of these thoughts. Lately, however, it hasn't been happening: where once I could see where a potential window of opportunity might emerge, I've lately been feeling that I've well and truly maxed out my options. Even the old drive that would push me out of the house, which I've alluded to all over this blog, even on the very first post - isn't there. It feels pointless after so many past nights out on the town, only around one hundredth of which made it to these pages. Everything's still in place, and I'm the same person I've always been, but one thing's changed - my optimism.

As I told a friend recently, if romance is earth, I'm feeling like Voyager 2, floating away on an entirely different trajectory.

OK, I'll quit my whining now...

"I Got a Call From This Number.."

I'm all of 29, but the technological changes my generation has seen make for some strange memories.

Just around a half hour ago, walking home on the same path that's spawned other trips down memory lane, I saw I'd received a call to my cellphone from a number I didn't recognize. Calling back and telling the complete stranger on the other end of the line, "I got a call from this number", I was struck by how naturally this sort of interaction came to me.

I remember not so long ago when the callback service was first offered on our (landline) phones. Cellphones were yet to be seen, and our phones were limited to the only things I could ever imagine they'd do - dial and talk. Games? Call ID? Internet? Third Generation gadgets that run your finances based on self-updating stock-market reports? Science fiction!

Then one day, I could punch/dial a code - using that mysterious "*" sign I had always wondered about - and call the person I had just missed. The first time I had this sort of conversation was incredibly bizarre. "uh..." - what should I say? Describing this random, somehow inherently modern/urban/hyper-something incident was awkward. I was a kid. I knew everyone there was for me to know, and actively calling someone "out there" was an almost transcendent, philosophical experience. Talking to a total stranger - now so natural to us thanks, in part, to the internet - felt like those first radio bursts sent to outer space in search of alien life.

Being young didn't hurt, of course. Everything was new, strange, exciting yet scary, bizarre yet easily digested as the new norm. Growing up parallel to rapid technological innovation makes me wonder how much these sorts of memories are the result of a child's limited world view, and how much our perception today really has been expanded through communication technology.

Dirty Hypocrites

It's been ages, I know. Lots going on, so I'll just quickly point out one peeve and leave it at that:

I live in Jerusalem, and I happen to like this city. Lots of my friends do too. But we all know plenty of people who don't, which is fine. I can even see why they don't - it just doesn't bother me as much.

Every year on Jerusalem Day, and several times in between, an article comes out with doomsday predictions for the non-haredi 20- and 30-year-olds of this city. Haredis pouring in, young "talents" leaving, no employment etc. This is legitimate subject matter for an article, but what always gets me is the hypocrisy of the talkbackers: with each new damning article, dozens of bozos go online with responses titled "dirty city", alluding to Jerusalem's allegedly filthy streets, under anonymous pen-names indicating they're from Tel Aviv.

And I ask: have these morons ever been to the entire half of their own city known as South Tel Aviv? This large area contains unique mixtures of organic and non-organic substances, the odor of which could bring a hardcore New Yorker to his knees. We're talking about streets that make Gotham City look like Toronto. To tell the truth, I find parts of south Tel Aviv quite charming in a grotty, nahlaot kind of way, but I'll never accuse Jerusalem of being particularly filthy after seeing/smelling that.

Jerusalem's got tons of problems - the municipality first among them - but let's refrain from gloating at one of Israel's truly special cities for gloating's sake.


P.S. Unbelievable! The day after I post this, another article comes out (Hebrew, article titled "Jerusalem of Ugliness").

Male-Bashing and Romance (What's Left of It)

"Hiding in my room / safe within my womb
I touch no one and no one touches me"

Simon and Garfunkel, I am a Rock.

Men. We've done some horrible things in our time. We've cheated, looted, raped and pillaged. All things being equal, we're more likely to lose our temper and resort to violence. We can be sophomoric and inattentive. We've mismanaged countries and instigated wars - one of us had Rome burnt to the ground - for our own ego's sake. I don't know what to say - some men really stink.

But things are getting out of hand.

It's enough to look at the wildly popular Ynet* "relationships" section to see that there's some kind of war going. For the women, it's as if most men are likely to do one or any combination of the above offenses - daily, judging by their (women's) talkbacks. Either that or we're spineless wimps not worth the time, effort or heartache (for those rare romantics who still speak of something so syrupy as the "heart"). Those feeble voices trying to defend us are dismissed as naive. The men, for their part, seem to have recoiled in horror from Israeli women, complaining of their allegedly over-demanding nature, like some huge, usurping, Jabba-the-Hutt-esque blob. So everyone's more defensive towards each other; everyone's more suspicious. What went wrong? Where'd the romance of our parents' or grandparents' generation go?

The answer lies partly in the gradual loosening of social conventions (worthy of its own post sometime), but primarily in today's widespread availability of information. We're getting bombarded by it on all sides, so everyone's become more aware. Go back several generations, and it was a lot easier to have romantic notions. It was, of course, also a lot easier to scam someone, rob a bank, kidnap a child** and, yes, rape someone and get away with it. Greater innocence meant everyone was easier to take advantage of. Now that we're more informed, we know more of the tricks; we're more wary. But this new awareness, while vitally important in protecting us from the scumbags of society, comes with a price. "Some" or "freak" instances of wrongdoing have intuitively become "most" or "typical". We're not just more suspicious, we're that much more cynical. And cynicism is a serious romance killer.

Our information is disproportionately negative, so the more of it we get, the more negative information we get. Just like on the ynet talkbacks, combative emotions - ranging from argumentativeness to out-and-out antagonism - seem to draw far more people to action than positive ones. Also, there's simply a basic lack of newsworthiness to most things good. Crimes of all sorts, wars, betrayals at the highest political echelons - these grace the news pages every day, but acts of common decency do not. No one's going to come running with report after report of good human behavior, including good male behavior.

We've all heard about the two-timing, harassing, good-for-nothing man; but you won't hear about the good ones. What about deep, romantic displays of love? An arm around the shoulder on a cold winter's night? A sympathetic ear at a time of crisis? The compliment you didn't know how badly you needed? Errands run, promises kept? who outside your direct circle will ever give you news of this? Statistics on sexual offenses are meticulously tabulated, reaffirming accusations of man-as-incorrigible-predator, but you're never going to get stats on consensual, glorious, tender sex. It sounds funny, I know, but therein lies the most basic of biases in our information - for all sorts of reasons, you're not hearing about a lot of the good stuff, and this means you're not getting the true picture.

I've kind of gone in circles here, but my bottom line is this - if we allow ourselves to get too protective and cynical from all the negative information, we'll end up like the protagonist from that Simon & Garfunkel song. Things aren't as bad as they seem. You may be sure all the good men are gone, but it only seems that way because, in a certain sense, they're less interesting. They are out there, though, so keep the faith, keep your guard (reasonably) down, and keep your eyes open!


P.S.
(Yes, I suppose I'm projecting ever so slightly... Thanks, Freud!)


* Israeli online newspaper

** Excluding the effects of internet chat rooms and the like. I'm only referring here to people's gullibility.

"Don't be Crazy"

"Why not go after her? what have you got to lose? What have you got to lose?"

I had been feeling a sort of angst, an impatience, all evening. Some friends invited me to a jazz show near my house, but when I showed up I couldn't stand being there. Normally I'm fine with some live jazz, but at that moment it irritated me to no end. It seemed so soft, just some polite, mood-setting background music; and here I was, ready to scream. I couldn't take it.

I ended up going with a friend to a bar on Gaza street. Both of us were a little dispirited. As we left - another uneventful night, another day of eternal bachelorhood - a young lady standing outside the bar caught his fancy. She parted ways with her friends and began walking up the street. I told my friend he should try - what has he got to lose? You can't afford to dwell on these situations, so I quickly patted him on the shoulder, wished him goodbye/good luck, and turned up Radak street for the walk home.

He never did go up to her, but the thought stayed with me. What have you got to lose?

I felt a longing. I was terribly missing my former self. My throat welled up. I was thinking in a way I hadn't thought like in - what was it? 6, 7 years?

For those few moments, I went straight back to the sort of total romanticism I had only experienced in my early twenties. All the advanced calculus of making first contact gave way to this naivete. What have I got to lose? My god, why had I stopped ever thinking that? I'm all of 28, but it felt like I was staring at an old photograph, realizing how much I've aged.

In my close group we called it a "kamikaze mission": a situation where there's not going to be any way to make proper social contact before stating your intentions. You just have to go up, say something short, hope for the best and ask. The classic one is when she's just passed you on the street. Something deep in your gut says it would be a crying shame to let her go. But let me be clear here - this was never mere physical attraction. There would be something about her, something beyond, a je ne sais quoi, that would induce me to do something I would certainly never contemplate doing normally.

It was all coming back to me - "what have I got to lose?" I used to think like that all the time. Going up to a young lady and straightforwardly, almost confessionally, asking her for her number. So she says no - so you gave her a compliment. What's wrong with that? You gave a total stranger a bit of an ego boost for the evening. It was a win-win situation. That was part of the romantics of it - I used to feel happy all the time at the prospect of making someone else happy.

It was such a youthful way of thinking, from a time when even someone out on the street could juuust be "the one". Nothing else mattered at that moment. why not? Take the plunge. No hang-ups, no long analysis of what sort of person she is, I just wanted to go up and try. Not to belittle the genuineness of my interest for a second, but yes - it was very exciting. I would smile at the prospect of doing it, not that there wasn't a good bit of dread as well...

Started walking down Osishkin.

These feelings used to arise at night for me. I would go out on the porch of my parents house, stare at the stars, and something deep inside would strike me. I can't describe it - simultaneous excitement and despair at the untapped potential I thought I had. I would sit at home, and think I have to write something. It's 1:30AM - let's write a book! Let's take my guitar and go sit somewhere and play it. Something's bound to happen! There was a spark of pure romanticism that would bubble to the surface, even in calculating, rational ol' me. god, I haven't had that in years.. what happened? when did all that change? It seems so naive now.

It was around when I hit Bezalel street that it started to fade. I began to see the folly of it, like big, gaping holes. "Don't be crazy. You'd just intimdate her. A total stranger walking up to her like that, in the early hours of the morning? Why on earth would she agree to it? Look, with all the good will in the world, she simply doesn't know you from Adam; you're just putting her on the spot. What do you want her to say? Have some dignity - be an adult. You can't just pounce like that out of the blue. It's a very stressful situation to put her in, and she's much better off playing it safe. You know what? If she says yes, she's probably crazy."

By the time I turned onto my street, it was gone. You grow up, I guess. You mature. People out on the street can't be "the one", right? These things take time, you build them.

I used to be crazy.

About Me #2 - A College-Educated, Taxpaying Punk

["About me" posts, despite their name, are meant to have some relevancy to the reader as well. See my introduction to them here.]

I'm a punk. No, I've never worn a torn shirt with safety pins, nor contemplated a mohawk (and not just because I couldn't grow one if I tried). I've got a college degree. I didn't grow up "on the streets". I haven't touched a single (non-musical) drug in my life. I've never smashed a beer bottle in the street. Musically, alongside rock, I've played folk songs, disco and Mizrahi. I've covered the Sex Pistols, and I've covered the Beatles; I've covered Simon & Garfunkel and Nirvana. I pay my taxes. My police record is clean. I'm nearly ten years past my teens. I've worked at the same institution (in different capacities) for 6 years now. Rest assured these are all irrelevant to the subject at hand - I am, undoubtedly, 200%, a punk.

The word "punk" has gathered an incredible mishmash of meanings. For many, the image that still comes to mind is that of thuggery - ratty clothes, "fuck-you" attitude, outspokenness, smashing things, crudeness. "Punk politics" has come to include a grab bag of causes, from anti-authoritarianism to veganism to anarchism to fascism to extreme left-wing politics. So first of all, I have to clarify: I'm not talking about punk the musical form, nor the "fashion", nor the politics of punk. I'm talking about punk as a way of life; the ideology of punk.(1)

The pervasive, mostly negative image of "punks" I mentioned above, stems primarily from the more visible sections of its audience, rather than from most of its original musical founders - especially those in the US. To avoid a laborious history lesson, just take it from me: in 1975-77, when punk was still in its infancy, the only things the so-called "punks" in the States had in common were lots of energy and a critical thought process.

So what is the ideology of punk? Punk ideology combines anti-dogmatism with a simple imperative: think. As Jello Biafra, singer of the great Dead Kennedys, put so succinctly: "punk ain't no religious cult - punk means thinking for yourself". It discourages preconception - don't automatically reject an idea simply because it seems out of left field. Always question, but stay balanced. Don't automatically go with "the majority", nor be a reactionary for its own sake. A punk tries as much as possible to simply remove the common wisdom from the equation. Punks have a healthy disregard for norms and empty rhetoric as any kind of indication of "worth". Rather, they'll try to deconstruct a situation and put it back together themselves. If the conclusions coincide with extant norms, that's fine. If they don't, that's fine too. Needless to say, they will often fall somewhere in between.

Despite its uneven implementation among punks, punk ideology tries to avoid being auto-rejectionist. If someone doesn't agree with you, he/she is not "the enemy". By all means try to convince by way of rational explanation, but certainly don't catalog and otherwise reject out of hand the validity of others' opinions. Punk is not relativist, though. A common trapping of the aforementioned rejection-of-the-assumed is that it can lead to a paralysis of self-doubt. But the punk outlook is a positivist one: it encourages action, and it encourages forming a well-considered opinion. Yes, always be open to criticism of your opinion, be willing to revise, update or replace it entirely if need be, but first make sure you have one, and know why you do.

The next obvious question is why use the term "punk" and not just, say, "thoughtful person"? Without making an overly restrictive generalization, it's because punk ideology has one added tendency that's not intrinsic to a thoughtful person: the desire to simplify. This comes across in punk as the musical genre, but also as a way to make choices in life. A punk will look for a simpler way to do things, and appreciate functionality and practicality. It doesn't mean he/she is trying to live like a monk, nor that he/she must be free of any guilty pleasures; but by and large, the ornate, the overpriced and the extravagant are instinctively off-putting to a punk. This is why you will see some punks choose to live communally, shunting the job-car-house-family track(2), and why you will see a tendency towards simplicity and directness in the music. But this criteria is actually fairly flexible - one needn't be resistant to economic or social status advancement to be a punk; he/she should only not see them as the prime measures of "success" in life.

Last but not least, punk ideology requires being a civil human being. As Ian Mackaye, one of the first to actually sing and speak about these issues, said in an interview recently: "When I play music, there is no code of behavior beyond general humanitarian [values-R.T.]: you don't attack, assault people, or be ugly or intolerant.. but that would be the same if I invited anyone to my house for dinner, too."(3)





(1) I'm not trying to create an artificial split between punk the music and punk the ideology. Needless to say, punk began as a musical movement. But its ideology existed right from the start, and permeated the music in both its composition and its subject matter.

(2) Again, this too comes across in the music - see my mention of the brilliant economy of a certain punk band in an earlier post. This is also the principle driving many of the political strains mentioned above - anti-consumerism, environmental concerns and social justice - though the dogmatism that often accompanies them defeats the very purpose of punk as I see it..

(3) Available here. Be warned - while Mackaye shines (as usual), the interviewer doesn't really "get it".

About Me #1: Love

["About me" posts, despite their name, are meant to have some relevancy to the reader as well. See my introduction to them here.]

Yet another unexpected twist.. this was not what I had prepared as the first "about me" post, but regular readers (all, like, two of you) already know my best-laid plans consistently seem to combust before they've ever been made. In this case, I'll even say what triggered the sudden switcheroo: I was dumped today, though in rather frustrating, "you're basically great in every way. Goodbye" style. Liked her, too, dammit. So yes, I'm going to write some of my thoughts about love, no less - in hindsight, the best first "about me" I could have (not) planned for..

Up until not too long ago, I was in a fairly bad mental trap where relationships were concerned: For one thing, they were few and far between; consequently, this made being in one all the more fateful to me. Both combined - it's sort of a chicken and egg situation - meant that every new potential "match" underwent severe scrutiny for the extra long haul.. i.e. "is this the person I would want to be with? Do I really want to compromise? it's my friggin life we're talking about here.." I was ratcheting up cons faster than I could type the word "pro". I'm oversimplifying tremendously here, and doing myself something of an injustice, but overall I would have to admit I may have been a little trigger-happy on the ol' "abort" button. The basic outlook was as much testing her as just trying to enjoy time spent with her. I was disproportionally focusing on all the ways she differed from what I thought I knew I needed. Sounds long-winded, but read that last sentence again - if you're single and wondering why, I'll bet at least some of it applies to you as well!

Anyway, a series of events I won't go into, combined with some unlikely but gradual maturation, has brought me to (what I'd like to think is) a (healthy?) new attitude on the whole issue of relationships, what makes us tick, etc:

First of all, I'm a romantic at heart - I believe that true love exists. I don't, though, believe in a shopping-list of traits that make up the person who is somehow "right for me". I've dropped that one altogether. I believe everything you go through in life, including relations but not limited to them, changes you and (usually) brings you closer to a phase that's right for you. At different stages along the way, you're open to different types of people - all, of course, on their own journeys - with whom you're receptive and capable of real love. These changes are different from person to person and, more importantly, you can't know when you've hit the right phase for which person, nor how to induce or prolong it. When we're there we're there, and we won't know until we see its results in hindsight. Am I essentially talking about maturity here? yes, but not only. It's your maturity and your experiences that make you receptive enough for true love. Or if you prefer, it is all about maturity, but experiences help to build it.

Two important qualifications: this is still a two-way street. Whatever phase you're in, you still have to find someone who'se there as well, which is what makes it so evasive to many of us. Also, I'm not sidestepping the vitally important issue of physical attraction. If anything, I think physical attraction is the only glue that can sustain a relationship, especially in its early stages when a couple are still getting to know each other. Talk is nice but, you know, come on... ;)

Now, I know this is all a little unclear, so here are some of the ramifications of what I'm saying, that might help make it a little more tangible:

a) There's no "The right person for me", there's being in the right place for this person. love has as much to do with where you are as it does with the other person. You have to be receptive to it, and if you're not there, you're not there. It explains those situations when you wonder what's wrong with you: you think someone's a really teriffic person, charming, funny, engaging, smart, mature, exciting, responsible, good-hearted, whatever you like - elastic - yet the spark just isn't there. You're not (necessarily) a bad person for it.

b) Don't think in terms of trait checklists. Give him/her a real chance even if they seem very different to you on paper. You don't ever fully know who'se right for you. You don't know where you are on this route, so yes, go with your instincts, but be flexible with what you've been so sure is or is not acceptable. what you "need" in the other person is dynamic, changing as you do. Also, a lot of the stuff you're looking for in a meaningful relationship can only come out/be built over time. That really sucks - especially for us impatient guys - but it's true.

c) This isn't be-all and end-all. Noone's getting married. (Yet.)

d) Don't moan and groan about your "failed" relationships and stinging break-ups. In most cases they've taught you something, they've made you more mature. It was something you had to go through and, like I mentioned above, you'll only realize later how or why.

I'm aware this is all something of a leap of faith, that I can't prove any of it, but then that's what love is all about anyway. If you still believe it's out there, take this post as some friendly advice from a fellow romantic.