Enough to Make You Go Vegetarian

[not for the faint-hearted, this]

Going to the Jerusalem Shuk today, I saw quite a sight - a worker marching into the shuk (market) area, carrying a giant hunk of cow on his back. This enormous ribcage, that looked like it must weigh as much as the worker, went flying right by the face of one girl, who shrieked in terror.

There he went, behind car exhaust fumes, by overstuffed garbage receptacles and into the dingy shuk, carrying this hunk of flesh over his presumably very sweaty neck. I'm a big meat fan, but this was enough to make me contemplate vegetarianism. Came to my senses soon enough, though... (munch, munch.)

"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.

The Israeli Disease

(warning - rant coming up)

A friend of mine was kind enough to fly me on a business trip with him once. We were going to have a stopover in Europe, and I wanted to duck into the city for something. I was certain I could do it and come back in time for the connecting flight. He wasn't too thrilled about my plan, but I kept pressing - "It'll work out, c'mon!".

He then asked me The Question - the one question Israelis avoid bringing up, or even contemplating privately, ever:

What happens if it doesn't work out?

This is really a simple question. I couldn't word it any more simply. It means exactly what it says, and doesn't insinuate anything beyond. To an Israeli, however, this question is negative thinking at best, an out-and-out accusation at worst. "What do you mean 'what happens if it doesn't work out'? what, you don't trust me? nothing will go wrong!". And that's exactly it - to an Israeli, nothing will ever go wrong. It's an amazing, widespread delirium. If you don't live in Israel, you may think I'm exaggerating; but if you do, this should sound pretty familiar - it's the Israeli Disease.

While completely detached from reality, the Israeli Disease has its (few) advantages - this eternal optimism is behind our renowned ability to improvise, to miraculously create a solution out of thin air at the last second. It can also be said to be the result of a traditionally more cohesive, trusting society. However, its main problem is that it entails the wholesale sidestepping of consequences to one's actions. Everything will work out because "somehow, it always does", and the results - well, we see the results every day: in the news, and all around us.

Ahh, we lucky Israelis. Since nothing will ever go wrong, we allow ourselves to ask for any favor, big or small, damned the consequences. For the same reason exactly, warranties are nice pieces of paper that give an American-esque aura to a purchase or a service, but not much else. Since nothing will ever go wrong, we can build a rail system and then discover later the rails don't fit the cars. We can build event halls with floors that cave in, not to mention bridges. Since nothing will ever go wrong, government ministries and municipalities needn't concern themselves too much with, say, doing anything. The expression "cover for me" should be in the national anthem.

The Israeli Disease is responsible for us finding ourselves, again and again, up s#!t creek without a paddle. We see our politicians spreading promises left and right with no hope of fulfilling them, blabbing to the press, groping subordinates and taking bribes with no thought of consequence; we see wars fought under the assumption that winning them is somehow an ingrained Israeli "trait"; we see social security messing up, hospitals messing up, the police messing up, the army messing up, companies messing up, drivers messing up. As a good friend pointed out once, the common line you'll hear from a reckless driver - "haven't been killed yet!" - applies to every single person who has, one second before the crash.

So if you're Israeli, by birth or by symptom: please, stop and think. Ask yourself what happens if it doesn't work out exactly the way you planned*. By doing this you're not paranoid or self-defeating, you're merely being smart. By all means, go ahead with your plan, just remember it's only that- not a certainty.

As for my plan? As soon as my friend asked The Question, I dropped it. And surprise surprise: turned out there was no way in hell I could've pulled it off.



* if there even was a plan; "assumed" might be more appropriate.

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".

Monotonix: The Band That'll Put a Smile on Your Face

..even as you're pinned to the floor - by their singer.

Had this whole post on agnosticism and faith ready, but forget that.. Every once in a while I see a band I'm happy just to know exists. Quick background: I'm a huge music fan - first and foremost, though not reserved to, rock music. listen to tons of it, Play in two bands.. Big on all things with an independent bent and strong emotion, but that's for a later post.

Just got back from catching the Monotonix at the Sira bar in Jerusalem. They're a Tel-Aviv based trio consisting only of a drummer, a guitarist and singer. No second guitar, no bass. To compensate, Yonatan, the guitarist, plays a detuned guitar through a bass amp, and deftly goes back and forth between bass-like passages and guitar. On top of that, the drummer bashes his minimal kit - no toms, just a snare, bass drum and a few cymbals - standing up. From these two instruments, they manage to coax as full a sound as anyone could hope for. The economy of it all is inspiring.

But the real center of attention is Ami, the short, mustachioed, 45(!!)-year-old singer; though that's probably the most peripheral part of his presence on stage. Just last night:

He routinely walked deep into the audience and hugged or kissed people, especially the ones in the back who weren't paying attention.
Halfway through the second song, I offered him my beer and he immediately proceeded to pour it on his head.

He duck-taped himself to someone and thus "forced" him to dance with him for an entire song, then "hung" off him with the tape, singing like it's all in a day's work...

He spent the rest of the show covered in tape, with his own left shoe dangling by the shoelaces from the mike cable.
he set the cymbals on fire...

he jokingly (or not) yelled at the barman for doing "business" in the middle of "his show".

he jumped right onto this haredi guy and clung to him for a good minute straight - while singing.

He would walk out the door... walk into the audience and drag someone to the stage, then wrestle him to the floor (I was one such victim. He didn't get much resistance, though - I was paralyzed by laughter!)

he climbed to the top of the bathroom stall, a good three meters off the floor, and sang from there.

..and for the brilliant end of the show, he took the cymbals away from the drummer one by one, and handed them to people in the audience, along with sticks for them to bash away in their own time.. Ran, the drummer, was left with only his snare, which he set up on top of the bar counter, and carried right on playing it standing there. All the while, Ami was on top of the bar with him, waving two lightbulbs like a 'luded-out hippie.

All this may read like mere shock tactics, like he was trying too hard to "entertain" - but he wasn't. What doesn't come across is the basic human warmth he spread in the crowd, even when he seemed over-the-top. The feelings this man managed to coax, along with the ear-piercing but ever melodic rhythm section.. you just had to be there. He wants to get everyone involved. Israeli audiences tend to be quite calm - they'll cheer for a few second after a song and then fall deathly quiet; Ami's out there just trying to wake everyone up, without ever seeming like he's struggling against them or somehow dissatisfied with them.

The single greatest thing about this band is their utter lack of pretension. None of Ami's antics seemed at all forced; he was just having fun. No one at a Monotonix show could even try to maintain some air of false poise or distanced "cool" with this madman crashing into them at every opportunity. Everyone was smiling. You had to. Even if you hated them, you were smiling.

By the end of the set, I felt like the random batch of people that made up the audience had been joined, if only for a moment, by this singular experience. It's a feeling I rarely get these days at shows, but I did tonight. Long live Monotonix!

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.

Interim Report: "I Love Rock'N'Roll"!

Banality warning: this will be one of those posts...
--------

Yeah, I haven't posted in a while, I know. In explaining this to a good friend, he suggested I post about that. Touche!

The thing is, after returning from the gigantic tour (mentioned briefly elsewhere), I had been incarcerated at my folks home for a few weeks as I'd badly sprained my ankle. This meant, among other things, watching stairs become virtually impenetrable walls, having a hell of a time trying to shower - you hobble along with one foot up in the air and try to get in there! - and, most importantly, being away from my guitars. This last fact, combined with taking time off from work, meant I had all the time in the world to post on this here thang. Turns out blogging's awefully time-intensive (isn't everything?)

I've since gotten much better, thank you, and am back in the confines of my own apartment, a veritable sea of guitars at hand. So I've gotten sidetracked. But watch this space. I'm not giving up the war, possibly the battle. Or the other way around. The point is, we shall rise to fight another day. A day in which "job" is but an afterthought, and guitars, with their sinewy shapes and beckoning essentia, will be far from my mind. In other words, I'll keep posting but expect sporad..icy? icism? icness? icity? icitness? eosity?*

"You men, always with the commitment issues". WHY? Why make this a gender thing? Listen, ya little squirt, it's my blog and I'll post when I want to / post when I want to / post when I want to.

Catch y'all later!


* I could go all day, baby, aaaaaallll day....


------- !!UPDATE!! -----------

Hah! How quickly things change.. my next post is dangerously near completion. I can practically hear the palpitations.

The Ultimate Open Challenge: the Two-Girl Fortress

OK, I know I said I'd post more about myself, but it's a fast-paced world out there. If something springs up urgently, well, damned if I don't write about it! Fear not (I'm sure you do..), the first "about me" post is under construction, awaiting my next stretch of concentration... Anyway:

I'm going to give you a puzzle to try to solve, and I welcome any and all attempts to crack it, ok?

here's the situation: I go out to a bar/restaurant-type place. As I enter, I notice a girl who catches my fancy. Great! now I'm psyched.. I sit at a table, with my good (male) friend. she's having a lively chat with her girlfriend. they're sitting two tables down from us, her friend facing me, "my" girl with her back to me. and now the question: what on earth do I do?

This is a TGF, Two-Girl Fortress*. It's impenetrable to me. And it exists virtually everywhere I go. Now, there are occasional circumstances that make it possible - difficult, but possible. At a bar, for instance, I might be able to sit next to her and start a conversation. Even table situations can sometimes work, if I can initiate eye-contact and see what the response is. If she sends enough of a "go ahead" smile, I might actually work myself up to doing something about it. But in this case - with no physical proximity or eye-contact - I'm dead in the water. I'd call it a UTGF (Ultimate TGF) if it weren't too long and cumbersome.

Here's my problem: I need a ruse. I cannot, under any circumstances, walk up to two girls in the middle of a conversation and say "hi", without having some reasonable excuse for doing it. I'm towering above them as they sit, I'm cutting into their lively conversation, and I'm still basically nobody to them. I don't care if she or both are single and looking; I don't care how many times you'll tell me it's "normal" and "expected" and "flattering"; I don't care if you've uncovered her secret diary expressly saying she wishes someone who looked just like me would walk up to her right in the middle of a conversation and start talking - I will never feel like anything other than an intrusive stranger butting in. My price for being civilized.

A priceless piece of advice I've heard is to ask to join the table. If you suggest that, you obviously haven't been reading. join the table? Are you kidding me?? Look, I'm aware this might not be nearly as unacceptable as it feels like to me, but I need a minimal level of truthfulness with myself, because I'm extremely transparent - I'm no actor. If what I'm feeling is that I'm an intrusive stranger, I can't try to exude this charming, nice guy who's confidently asking to join the table like it's perfectly natural for me. It ain't. Doing that is like trying to stab myself in the hand with a fork - just can't do it!

I've gotten all sorts of well-intended advice on this subject, but it's all regretfully immaterial to the basic problem: how do i interrupt two strangers' conversation with little or no acting ability? Solve this one, and you've solved one of (my) life's greatest mysteries!


* I know we've said we'll use "lady", but it really doesn't work in this context.

About Me - Intro

I'm really quite new to this whole blogging thing.. I've started reading a few to get a sense of how things work, and one nagging feeling keeps popping up: who are you? I never feel I know the person writing.. I don't mean I need to know anyone's shoe size or inclination on Nietzschean theories of Transgressive Ethno-Hippopotamy, but I'd like to know a little about the person who took the effort to write whatever it is I'm reading. Many of these bloggers seem to be writing essentially to their group of friends - though at the same time they obviously want as many readers as possible to comment on their trip to the ATM or how Gregory and Muriel are getting married. Others seem to write a strong opinion piece and then fade right back into the shadow of their own anonymity.

Needless to say, things come across between the lines - a touch of dryness in "Ex-Brooklyn-ite furious about our defeatist government"'s writing, some pop-culture saturation in "thought I left England behind but it followed me", a certain je ne sais quoi about "Religious Mom X's" - but overall, without a clue as to who these people actually are, they're writing missives without a source. The anonymity has a certain advantage to it for polemical/political-style blogs, where the writer may well prefer to leave her/himself out for "purity of argument"'s sake, but most of the more personal/anecdotal blogs seem strangely up in the air.

So I'm going to tell you, by drips and drabs, about myself, so far as I can tell. now, hold on.. I know this sounds like a practice in sheer vanity, but I'll try to keep it somewhat relevant to, well, people besides myself. So, to be continued. That is, if I stay on track long enough to follow through on this idea and not just write some more about Jerusalem girls ladies. mmm....


----------- PS ------------

I'm working on it, I'm working on it.. The first part'll be up in the next day or too. Meanwhile, read my other posts. They're grrreat!

Them American Ladies

Was horrified to see my last two posts were political, as if what I really care about isn't what all my fellow male hetero 28-year-olds care about: women.

Or can I use "girls"? "women" sounds so old to me - when I think of that word, I see a faded, 1910's photo of a girdled 55-year-old with a shower cap on. But can I use "girls" without sounding patronizing? I'll go with that term simply because it fits the excitement, curiosity and intellectual and emotional inspiration (I mean that!) that you girls awaken in us, far better than "women". You're with me, right? I mean, if I say "I like women", it only works if I slur the last syllable because I'm a toothless 88-year-old blind blues player: "Ah like wiMUH". Sheesh, four hundred trillion words in the English language and they can't come up with something that captures the spirit better than "girls" or "women"..

So yeah, I'm talking about those females in their 20s and 30s, who inevitably draw the attention of us males in our 20s and 30s. Whatever, if you've decided I'm a sexist pig by now, I'm better off without you. :) But if you know what I'm talking about, welcome, fellow 20-39 year-old singles. [in Stewie Griffin accent] You know exaaactly what I mean.

Background info: I Just got back from a month and a half tour of the States with a rock band I won't name. It was a serious tour, a tour tour: 37 shows played, 11000 miles driven (that's close to 18000 Kms for you locally bred folk), all in 46 days. We were everywhere from NY and Boston to Texas to LA to Seattle and back east, east coast, west coast, midwest, south, everywhere. Hell, we even hit Ashville (not Nashville, Ashville), Tennessee. It was the whole rock'n'roll shebang. I don't mean Led Zeppelin style - we're not big and certainly not famous - but more along the spirit of that AC/DC song... roughing it, the long drives, meager food, sleeping on floors but loving every minute of it.

"will you get to the girls already?" Well, not to disappoint but I'm not going to divulge any details of my romantic encounters.. Just isn't that kind of blog. But I would like to point out the difference, nay, gulf that exists between the girls I've met here - at least in Jerusalem - and those I met over there.

Maaaahn, what a difference. I'm really a shy guy. I don't mean with any self-esteem problems, just shy - it's awkward for me to strike up a conversation with a total stranger. But on tour, I could talk with any of them. True, they were softened, so to speak, by my brilliant performance in the rock band, but still.. I was struck by this culture of politeness that meant I could feel comfortable talking with any girl. And if I thought "hey, I like her, maybe I'll make a move", that was fine; and if not - that was fine too. The whole thing just was not such a big deal. I mean, god, over here, the whole exercise is so fraught with suspicion and stress. you just get near an Israeli girl and they give you this look. Try talking with her - there's always, alllllways a friend with her - and she excuses you with a withering comment. That is if you haven't gotten a squaker who all but hollers "rape! rape!" because she's used to all these other low-life creeps hitting on her. It's hard. It's hardened me. I would never have written something like this - I truly, truly fall into the nice-guy category - if I weren't frustrated at, well, being in the nice-guy category.

It was a real change of pace over there. I could talk to a girl, and even if she wasn't interested, if she already had a boyfriend, then she would bring it up, but gently. Nothing's sudden, nothing gives a bad taste to the evening. They won't blow the wind right out of you and leave you just wanting to go home, like Israeli girls can. We would both feel like we had a pleasant conversation and we're both really nice people and we actually found each other pretty attractive but we won't act on it because she has a boyfriend but it's been very nice talking and where do you go tomorrow and you guys rocked and.... All very pleasant.

So is there anything I can do? Is there any kind of positive action I can take to try to make Jerusalem's Bnot Yisrael (daughters of Israel) a little less paranoid and a little more friendly? No. but if some of you readers fit this description, or know those who do, spread the word: not all of us are lowlife chimpanzees. If you close off all access because you're fed up with them, which I can understand, just remember you're also blocking off us well-meaning guys.

And then we'll be reduced to blogging about it...


------ IMPORTANT UPDATE ---------

I graciously accept your proposals to use "ladies". thanks tafkaPP and Dooby!

Momkiss - thanks for the advice. I keep hearing that (the "be yourself" bit) so often, I'm beginning to think it might even true!

Tafkapp - brilliant. sure, it renders entire paragraphs obsolete, but hey - I enjoyed writing them..

Dooby - coming for you, anything sounds suave. But I know what ya mean..

Angela - you're definately a girl - to you. but I needed a word that captures what the girls are to me - and "ladies" is pretty damn close. now PUT YOUR HANDS UP IN THE AIR! AND WAVE EM LIKE YA JUST DON'T CARE! BOOYAAAAH! P.S. - All the way from Edmonton, wow. so.. hi!