cutting great neck

So Here I am, after an ENTIRE week out of house. I apologize for the poor quality of my last entry--I was tired, I just woke up, and the keyboard was fucking stupid. And I was so completely bored or not bored that I just felt raw and my fingers didn't slide over the keyboard like they're doing at the moment.

Today is my third full day in my favorite country (MARK--country, not place) in the world. ISRAEL! Ugly, dirty, hedonist, rude, evil Israel--and yet I love it. Jerusalem--oh my Jerusalem!--I'll come visit you in the morrow, or maybe in two days, you beauty, you. And HAIFA! I haven't been to Haifa in more than four--four!--years. Haifa, the green and golden hill rising above the old city, the Metro (if you could really call it a metro), the people--tanned and sharply cast from stone. Jaffa I miss too, and Eilat, and the Dead Sea--Salt Sea--the Gallilee Sea, baby, I miss you. The Mediterranean, blue and shining and clear.

AND MY OWN CITY OF PETACH TIKVA!

The city, the lovely city. Paper scraps all over the black roads, cars sliding all across the roads, houses old and gross, but still it's the city of ALL--ALL--ALL my childhood, darling, all my childhood I spent in a small apartment next to a big garden, once flourishing and colorful and clear, now neglected in midst of weeds. What else, the forest, the orchards are all down and out--sad, sad, terribly melancholy.

Oh, and by way, I got a haircut. I am sad. My Manliness has eroded away to an ugly, ear-enlargening, egg-headed haircut. I might just kill myself one day.

Anyway, goodbye. Talk t'you again. About Barcelona. And Israel. And all that shit, baby.