cutting great neck

this white screen is pulsing in the insides of my eyes.

so now i'm looking away. forgive me for any spelling mistakes.

life... ahhh. i don't know what i'm living for. there's nothing. just plain nothing.

there's travel.

there's college.

(ha. i'm looking forward to college. pshh.)

who cares about people, i already know too many of them.

i'm kind of happy i got sports now. because i feel like i've been given an opportunity to make a chance, for the paper and for myself.

there's...

israel. life. family.

old friends.

and there are way too many new friends. i'm about to die.

i've been spending more time in school than sleeping. that's... horrible. my head is so heavy, my eyes so sore and... arghhh.

it's spring already. sun. i can't wait for summer. for june. for the linden trees to start pouring out their smell.

sarah's coming next week.

the show's in two days.

i might be going to israel over the summer.

i can't wait to start working on the paper.

so there's some shit i'm living for... right?

good evening everybody. i've been pretty good mr. ed, how've you been ms. sycamore? no-o i don't go no place much. i'm on relief. here's the flies, rheba. caught a big mess of them today. i see you've been working miss. sycamore. how's grandpa? my, the years certainly

do

roll

arounddd.

but i'll be having lotsa fun

FML.

it seems.

i'm afraid about the show. i've had severe stagefright before. *fingers crossed*



fingers should be crossed in regards to another thing. i applied to be opinion section editor of guide post. god help me.


and... i have the opportunity to visit israel. either during the summer or during passover break. it's very confusing though.


nothing changed since i last wrote on the blog.

it snowed about two feet on a monday in the beginning of march, and since then it hadn't snowed at all... until about two days ago, but it didn't stick to the ground. it's too hot now.

[haha. the next picture, i took in central park. it's a woman with a fur coat who was screeching and sobbing and cursing, and she stumbled all over the park just... haha. one of the more memorable things that she screeched: "I WALKED IN AND THE FLOOR'S COVERED IN FECES AND URINE..." and she was huge, and a leather purse dangled from her arm, but in the end the cops came and took her away. how bizarreeee. poor gal.]

you know how much
i try to love you,
and yet,
like an old twig splitting,
i stumble.

stumbling words,
swallowing each other
in a sentence, one by one
with unwrapped, blank lips:
another naked you
with a pair of typographic legs.

you know
how much i try
to know you,
and to love you;
(you know
my fears;
fears of words like
‘know’ ‘try’ ‘love’.)

stumble with me
through red forests,
with broken boughs
that we will shun.
and if we fall, then
our knees bruise,
our palms bleed,
and i
will rise
with your blood in my eyes.

blind me; until i am
as blind, and sick as
you.
then i will love you.

and i will try. believe
me, i will try—and i
fall,
and my knees bruise
and my palms bleed,
and then
i rise
with no blood
in my eyes.

so they took me to the hospital
they put my body through a scan
what they saw there would impress them all
for inside me grows a man
who speaks with perfect diction
as he orders my eviction
as he acts with more conviction
than I









and no i didn't fucking write this

i smell like poop.

my eyes are locking shut by themselves. i'm about to faint. i have to memorize 350 vocab words for tomorrow english. i'm too tired. i want to nap a little.

had a snowday last monday.

no pictures.

am too lazy.

play, guide post.

i realized today how useless, dull life is. i realized how there's nothing for us to live for. that we'll have to work and fight for nothing, for the most meager of prizes. children, money, sex. and i know i'm being so freudian right now, but it's truth and that's what matters.

how relationships change in the blink of an eye.

i've been listening to the idan raichel project lately. and i've--i've realized that he truly embodies the israeli spirit, the israeli identity.

i wish i could live there for a year or so. i wish i could see what i missed out on. i wish i could understand what my old friends are going through, what the world seems like to them. i want to be able to stay up till two in the morning and walk into a cafe--somewhat, cafes in israel are different than here... i don't know how to explain it--or just to wake up in the morning and look outside into the red dunes, sands, harsh white sun, cold marble floors, hot summer nights outside...

i don't know. i don't think i remember summer in israel. i don't think i remember much... from a lot of places.

my dad's been making dvds from old videotapes of us, and so sometimes we'd gather around the computer and watch... the past. and i find that i don't remember much of anything. sure, i can recall madrid or dancing and singing in the backyard in palo alto--but i don't remember so many of the places we've gone to, in san francisco, in san diego, in israel, and i feel so secluded and frightened... i feel like i've been swallowed up by my memory, by my lack of memory.

i miss it, a lot. sometimes.

but would i like to move there? oh, i'm not so sure now. i remember in september, how lonely and wretched i felt, how much i yearned to live in israel again... but now... i'm not so sure. i'm not so sure.

manhattan on saturday february 28



sometimes i feel like life is... is like a long, roatating journey packed with ennui and fatigue, at times spotted with good points that sooner or later become strenuous bores, unneeded chores--a life filled with things from a life that has been lived before, a life... i don't know.



manhattan on saturday,
manhattan on sunday,
manhattan on saturday,
great neck the rest of the week,
cold air,
same people, same activities.

sometimes i feel like there's only history to look forward to; the past, the intriguing, beautiful past, jam-packed with death, violence, peace, love, hope, fury.



we went with the shapiras to south side seaport, that tourist hole near wall street, and then we went up towards chinatown but never made it, so then we just returned and dined at the same turkish place we ate at in june.

hmm.

we have guests now and i want to tell ya'll how nice life is and how normal and how ordinary and how strange my life is still and how dark night is outside, how dangerous, how enchanting like a movie.

ohh and yes, i did see two grand movies this weekend: "all about eve" (such a screenplay, such actors) and "la strada" (a bizarre connection to the glorious "nights of cabiria.")



i want to live in europe when i grow older; not new york, not san diego, not san francisco, not israel. europe: france, england, ireland, spain, greece, italy, germany romania russia. i want to live in a place where not everything revolves around you, when society has a social aspect and does not only consist of statistics.




i've been listening to a bunch of israeli songs lately

and i want to be in israel again

just to be there, alone, independent, in a small mediterranean apartment

with some girl, just locked up

and go to clubs, and listen to music and eat watermelons in the summer:

is it all that bad?

there is something like you
in me; something capricious
and sickly, a long shadow
inside my eye that expands
and contracts with the wind,
black and vile. i see you, the
vicarious creature, the untenable
wolf; vexing and peeling away
scars that have dried long ago,
drawing blood that has poured
long ago. you extend a drooling
arm, like a curtain, waving in
the wind and rain. the and needs
to be smaller, because we all
know that wind and rain
always go together, don’t we?
like harold and maude? and
porgy and bess? and sometimes,
i think, you and me—but not in
the small and sort of way, more like
in two voices that fall into place,
red and rose, chanting hymns together
like twirling snakes. sometimes,
i think, you and me need
smaller ands, like wind & rain,
wood & fire, dark & light.
you & the and is as little as
the light at the end of the tunnel.