Mind The Gap!

So, two weeks ago I found myself needing stiletto heels for Purim (my Drag Persona: Gazza Stripp, was asked to perform). I, not thinking I would be performing anytime soon left all of my drag gear at my parents’ house…some 5,000 miles away on Long Island. Taking any excuse possible to head to Tel Aviv, I took the train down and had Coffee with Itai which is always wonderful (our conversations bounce around more than Nero Wolfe’s do at his dinner table). Not having finished the part of the conversation we were working on, Itai came with me to Azrielli Center so I could pick up a few things (and it was wonderful to have the company).

On the way, waiting at HaHagana station for the train, I remarked about how funny I thought it was that they had “Mind the Gap” warnings here in Israel, almost identical to the ones on LIRR, and made mention of the fact that I’ve taken the train (at times, regularly, when I worked in the West Village) since I was 13 and never had a problem so I really didn’t understand what all the fuss was about.

That - by the way - was the kiss of death. Above me, though yet unbeknownst to me…the Evil Eye shot out of no where and began looking down…and taking aim, it found it’s mark…for our God is a self entertaining God…and I…I am (on a good day) fairly spazzy…

…and as the doors opened, and I step out…I caught my foot on a soldiers boot, my other foot catches the gap, I stumble off of the train in the most graceful graceless way possible…regain my balance…look up…laugh…and then sigh…and see ten beautiful years of perfect train riding…gone…ruined!! So let this be a lesson: Mind the Gap!

This was, however, made up for by the fact that I managed to find an adorable skirt and a fantastic pair of heels…though while they would let me in the changing room…they refused to let Itai in…

“We want you…to do a funny dance!”

The Kibbutz, upon finding out one of the numerous ways I’ve worked to pay my bills in the past asked me to come up with a “funny dance” for Purim.

Purim is a holiday that has the theme of most Jewish Holidays: they tried to kill us, they failed, we’re still here, hooray! Purim on the Kibbutz (and, throughout Israel) is a really…really big deal…and a biiiiiiiig drinking holiday. I’m told that the Rabbis say, somewhere where Rabbis say things, that we should be so drunk we can’t tell the difference between Mordechai or Hayman! Well…mission complete.

What they meant by a funny dance, was me in Drag, and at least a dozen or so back up dancers…well what dance could have three solos (so I can’t be accused of being a stage queen) and at least a dozen backup dancers, that can be performed while intoxicated, and get everyone on the dance floor grooving: The Time Warp.

We had three rehersals…we practiced hard we practiced we had a few meetings…we went to the Purim party and we drank…and we danced…until we heard “Matan Va Ha Ulpan…” (I’m transliterating) and we get dragged on stage, three or four sheets to the wind…in all honesty, I have no idea how we did…I’m sure a video will be leaked at some point…I can however tell you that everyone enjoyed it and everyone who danced has been told as much and that whatever it was that we managed to pull off (with Amir, who was playing Riff, in a Bunny Suit) has the kibbutz still talking about it five days later…if they remember nothing else of our Ulpan…they will always remember the moves to The Time Warp.

Working as a Cowboy on a Kibbutz in Israel one might be concerned at how my fellow Cowboys and Cowgirls would take to finding one of their own in four inch stilettos (I couldn’t find six inchers) on stage, doing some pelvic thrusts. As fate would have it as I was walking to the bathroom I saw one of my managers from the Refet walking out of the bathroom…and let me just say that he looked lovely in his sun-dress and hat complete with floppy daisy, promptly removing any awkward moments at work the next day…in fact, the Refet was rather proud that one of their coworkers had the lead…and danced in heels!

The Negev, Ein Gedi & Masada

We’re leaving today (Wednesday/Israeli Standard Time) to head on our overnight tour of the Negev, Ein Gedi and Masda and quite a few other places, actually. Today we’ll be touring primarily Ein Gedi and the Negev (spending the night with some Bedouins) and then Thursday we’ll be climbing Masada. Thursday night I’ll be back at the Kibbutz, I have off (courtesy of the Kibbutz) this Friday so I’ll be heading down early to Tel Aviv for a religious Shabbat with Itai and then to Jerusalem on Sunday (I took one of my personal days) and I’ll be back at the Kibbutz Sunday Night with photos, and a Travelogue to share.

I’ll see everyone soon!

- M

You are The Magician

Skill, wisdom, adaptation. Craft, cunning, depending on dignity.

Eleoquent and charismatic both verbally and in writing,
you are clever, witty, inventive and persuasive.

The Magician is the male power of creation, creation by willpower and desire. In that ancient sense, it is the ability to make things so just by speaking them aloud. Reflecting this is the fact that the Magician is represented by Mercury. He represents the gift of tongues, a smooth talker, a salesman. Also clever with the slight of hand and a medicine man - either a real doctor or someone trying to sell you snake oil.

What Tarot Card are You?
Take the Test to Find Out.

I think what did me in was the bringing your own bag to the supermarket and the sandals…

A Thank You & Forbearance

To everyone who offered me comfort, prayers, well wishes and an ear over the past days that I had been dealing with the passing of Raider…LiveJournal removes syndicated posts after a few days, so I didn’t have the time I wanted to respond to your comments…but I appreciated each and every one of your comments, phone calls, and emails…they really meant a lot to me…thank you!

I’m also incredibly delayed in commenting in journals, writing and responding to emails and the like and I’ll be getting caught up tomorrow (Saturday) so I appreciate everyone’s patience. To those of you who I have packages for, I ask for your patience as well. The Kibbutz Post Office…well…doesn’t operate like any other Post Office in Israel so I’m having a time getting them mailed out (just…think of a Monty Python sketch, have the situation be judged impossible, involve flan…and multiply it by three and you’ll have a good idea of how it works…or doesn’t…).

New Bike

I’ve been wanting a bicycle for awhile now, and I was elated to find out that when I started work at the Refet, that they were going to loan me a bicycle for the entire length of the Ulpan, which they do for all their workers. The general reason behind their generosity is that Refet workers have work at odd hours (4am quite often) and the Refet is on the other side of the Kibbutz. What they didn’t tell you is that riding a Refet bike is putting your ability to have future sexual encounters at dire and immediate risk (and that brakes, and steering are also optional).

Deciding that I would much rather get up earlier (3am instead of 3:20am) so I could walk to work and thereby retain the ability to have a sex life, the other day I kindly returned my bike with thanks and investigated the option of purchasing one on the Kibbutz - something that they mentioned to us was a possibility in passing during our orientation.

In general, I’ve been beyond fiscally conservative here to the point of being tighter than a crab’s ass (this, however, has taught me new ways of getting guys to buy me drinks…my pick up lines are getting better…thank you Solomon). I’ve stuck to a strict budget each month so I didn’t mind the prospect of spending some of the Shekels I have socked away if I knew it was going to be for something that has the potential to last for a good while and would provide some level of long term enjoyment (I created a new line from the budget I was going to use from the health club line I had setup, which is now a moot issue since I’ll be going into Basic Training earlier than I had originally planned…a topic for another post…but it freed up some cash).

There are a lot of benefits to living on a Kibbutz, and one of them is buying power (since the Kibbutz Movement as a whole makes purchases in bulk and then divvies the booty among the Kibbutzim). The other morning I woke up at 5:30am to walk across the street from my room to the bike store (’conveniently’ open from 5am to 11am…you know…those hours when everyone has free time and goes shopping). The bike shop is run by my friend Josh’s adopted Kibbutz Father and even before I thought of buying a bike, Josh had nothing but positive things to say about him so I felt comfortable going in (even if I did question the hours he kept).

I explained to him that I wasn’t looking for a mountain bike or something that was for racing…just something I could use on the Kibbutz and in Tel Aviv and/or Jerusalem to get around, to ride to the University with and to the shook once a week for food shopping, that was sturdy and that I could trust would last a long time. I told him that I didn’t want widgets that I would have no use for and really have no idea how to use (…I’m not taking this thing off-roading…I’m very much a city person…I like the urban landscape…concrete makes me feel comfortable) and I was worried that in this out doorsy environment he wouldn’t have something for me as he nodded along at me while I explained the litany of requirements…he listened without interrupting and then took me to the storage room and there, on the rack…calling out to me was my dream bike - brand new, still in plastic wrapping - and for 660ILS (190.42 USD) I picked up my new baby (and a bike lock) and while the bike may be white at the moment…soon, very, very, very soon it will have cow spots painted on it courtesy of my friend Lisa, an artist from California that’s on the Ulpan (we’re bartering services):

I’ve been humming the theme from Murder She Wrote because it reminds me of the bike in the opening sequence

This is my name in block Hebrew, they wrote it on the back of my seat…not so much to be used as a license plate, but with close to - if not more than - a thousand bikes on the Kibbutz…a lot of them look similar.

I have to say, I’m happier than when I purchased my first car…possibly because this is my first form of mobility that allows me to be more self reliant in Israel (I can now get places on my own!)…or perhaps because a friend and I just got back from an hour and a half ride around the Kibbutz (something I don’t think I’d have the physical endurance for two years ago), through the paths between the fish ponds, down to the beach, around the Refet and back to the Ulpan housing in place of a nice Shabbat stroll.

Photo Gallery & Kibbutz Life

So I finally have Photo Gallery software installed that I like, and now have the start of what will be my web gallery which can be accessed at http://www.nomadmatan.net/gallery

This in no way should be taken to mean that I’ve actually fully moved over all of my photographs, or scanned in the thousands that are still in filing boxes back in the states. It does however mean that I have a few galleries up, and the first (of what will be hundreds) of photos of the Kibbutz to start giving you an insight into the place that I’m currently living…click the image below to start the tour:

“So diaphanous so ephemeral/And all those bad words/They never learned in school/Groovy like my mamma was/In her black turtle neck/She was so high strung/She was so low tech”
– Confetti - Vonda Shepard - By 7:30

My mother is neither high strung, nor low tech. She has, however, always been a collector of words, which of course had a large on influence on my education (and what would eventually be my career choice).

All of the words I have ever really needed to know I learned outside of the four walls of the English classrooms at school and learned from her. I rhyme constantly throughout the day, I listen to Eminem and Fred Astaire (a new discovery of the past year or so, and I’m thankful to my friend Jackie for introducing him to me), the Beatles, Traffic and every troubled teenage pop star - old school, new school, not even out of school yet - pop, rock, bebop, country, bubblegum, scream, metal and lots and lots of rap…anything I can get my hands on.

I like learning what words sound good together…I write pages of poetry daily, and then throw them out…just practicing…like playing scales on the piano, my hand flies across the page moving the pen fluidly…just rhyming words, thoughts, concepts, parables, one liners, sexualizing anything so I’ll always have a response at the bar.

Banned books are the top of my reading lists, explicit CDs line my music collection…I love learning what words to avoid given their social stigmata because it means I have to find other words to fill in for their void (unless I’m talking with other New Yorkers…in which case - in the immortal words of Lewis Black “Fuck is a comma…”). I read all the books I’m told not to with poetry and prose written across pictures of naked women and men and people who’s sexuality is beautifully undefined. I have books that are filled with such vitriol and hate that I would never repeat most of the words in them…but I still want to know those words and I want to know them in their proper social context.

Of all the books I have, the ones I love the most though are the ones that upset the natural order of things. I love these books not so much because of their controversial nature, but because I’m fascinated by the combinations of words that have the power to rile people up, to make them look deep inside of themselves and pull out the fire that burns in their very core and makes them who they are.

Three words when combined properly have both started and ended wars, have been responsible for countless deaths, murders, suicides and even more countless acts of valor and bravery that go vastly underreported: “I love you.”

When you find yourself part of the Litocracy, you have the ability, the power, to write or rewrite history, to either emancipate, or to oppress, to focus or to obfuscate what does exist and what doesn’t exist…how powerful words are….that with the crack of a tongue you can have more of an impact than if you were to use a bull whip…literacy…what a gift!

Admissions of ignorance is not a complaint, nor is it a pessimistic stance that I take (I’m an optimist…a jaded optimist…but an optimist none-the-less)…knowing what you don’t know is powerful, sort of the academic’s “neener” call of “hahaha…I know absolutely nothing…oh well, nothing to do but get another degree…” so when I make reference to the fact that I’m not learning as much as I would like to in the program that I am presently enrolled in, the proper lens to view that through is the one that allows you to see the very real fact that there is no way - humanly possible - that the program could ever meet my requirements.

Simply put, I want to know everything…and I just don’t think it’s terribly fair of me to expect more than six years of information (BA+MA+…?) in five months (that, of course, doesn’t stop me from maintaining those expectations as guidelines for how much I think I should be getting out of this program).

There is no grammar point too minute, no phonetic variation not worth nothing, no area of syntax or semantics that are okay to be left unexplored…so…yes…and as if I didn’t see this coming for a long time…I’m (or as the game plan now stands) going to go for a second B.A. in Hebrew, before continuing along with the M.A.s and Ph.D. programs I want…it’s not enough to be able to speak to people in the shook, or go shopping, or say the raunchiest things in the bedroom (though you’d be amazed at how de-stressed that can make you)…I want to know why, what for, how…when…in what situations…and be able to explain the answers, off the top of my head and from the tip of my tongue in any situation, and in any state of mind. I want to be as quick and deadly in the Hebrew language as I am in English, I want to be able to make even the dirtiest porn star blush (something I once did in Toronto), and using the highest level of Hebrew and the largest amount of Innuendo that has ever been used before leave the clergies’ cheeks flushed red…and so really, a second B.A. is the path that I’m heading for after the army…it’s a good thing I enjoy doing homework….and more than that, I’ll feel comfortable with my Hebrew when I can throw down at a poetry slam…I don’t drop my mic easily…and I’m dying to rhyme and square off with the big dogs.

That said, this past week is week six of eight for grammar, this coming week will be the last week of grammar, and the week that follows it a review (as well as our tour of the Negev). Then the next two months will be spent vocabulary building, then a month of review before our exam.

And now…now it’s 1:30am…which means it’s time for me to go to bed…another post tomorrow…I’m just too tired to finish it just yet.

Leila Tov! (Goodnight!)

Raider Schwartz
September 3, 1996 - March 1, 2008

For those of you who know me, you know how much I loved my dog. I loved raider more than I liked most people I ever met (and more than some family members too). For those of you who can think back…he was probably the first member of the family that I talked about and introduced you to.

Raider meant the world to me. He was my buddy, my brother, and my best friend. We shared ice water together, napped together, travelled and vacationed together, waited for the bus together and he was very much considered a close member of our family, one of my brothers, one of my parents’ children.

Sadly, Raider had to be put to sleep yesterday due to liver complications that were in their final stages. He went to sleep peacefully, at our family home on Long Island, surrounded by those who love him, unafraid in familiar surroundings, as the pain left his body.

I have no words - in any language - to express how much he will be missed and how much my heart aches right now, it feels like it’s been torn in two. He was, quite simply, the best dog in the universe…and I miss him so much, he will be sorely, sorely missed.

Rest in peace puppy, I’ll always love you.