cutting great neck

again in one of those moods, longing for israel, reminiscing, engulfed by music, wanting to know what type of person i would have been had we stayed.

would i have listened to this music? stayed up hours trying to listen to it? to remember it? to remember the roughly pouring words that fit into one another like wooden blocks. to remember: the night, blacker than black, the white plastic chairs on the balcony, the balcony, the 90s, crumbling apartment structures immersed in age spots.

i know where i’m doinga my semester abroad.

label me: israel, melancholy, memory, miss, music, song

some very melancholy nostalgia:




you rise in me like a sun.



as night seeped into the crevices of the sidewalk, i stepped outside with my dog and traveled across meadows and concrete and long, black roads that blended into the infinite cavity of night. there was nothing to think about, nothing to know. music still wedged in time poured into my ears for the first time in a long time. i pulled on ginger and she resisted me and i pulled harder, and she finally gave. and i stumbled near a pole of light, stands on a yard in the corner of hampshire rd. and baker hill, that scaled across my eyes like a great big white sun floating in midair, and a huge white hole ripped open in my cornea and the blackness fell in and was trapped inside and all that was left was the writhing white bulb swelling all around me and then the night clasped in and.

label me: melancholy, nature, night, nostalgia, writing

grandmother, cousin left today.

to israel. to home.

how i miss israel. we listened to this zionist noami shemer cd today in the car on the way back from a horrible day in the city and i felt so much deep, harkings nostalgia, so much longing and so much remembering.

i'm all alone in the house. dad and sharon are driving back from the airport; it's dark, silent. the radio is possibly on. they discuss the past--the distant, distant past of our infancy, and even before--and science and history, even though in a sense everything that has to do with science or with the past is history. the radio plays softly against the thundering of the wheels against the wet highway asphalt, which sounds like a tree breaking against a violent waterfall in the middle of an empty forest. the window’s rolled down. rain—the smell of it, the cold plummeting drops—blows in.




speaking of the devil: keys jingle downstairs, voices from outside seep in.

they just came in. the keys in the door. it turns. i say hello. shalom, dad says. sharon goes to play with ginger, and giggles, and ginger’s collar clinks.



i celebrated cousin’s departure. he's sweet, but extremely obnoxious and ignorant and acts like a 7-year-old, even though he’s 12. we love each other, but it's almost impossible to live with him. how he has to sleep with the lights and the a/c on; how he always had to have two+ eggs every day; how he always watched the most abhorrent channels, and played the most abhorrent games on the computer; how he feared ghosts and darkness and unclosed closets; how he had to have everything, play with every single electronic device our family owned, especially while we were using it; how he asked me to repeat the same song on itunes over and over again; how he was still a child, an undeveloped, exasperating child.




they all left, and i stayed home to walk ginger. after i hugged and kissed said cousin goodbye, i came back in and closed the door and looked through the small window in the foyer, and saw grandma's bulky, familiar form, her hands reaching for the seatbelt--she always asks for my help when it gets jammed—and then i turned away, and petted ginger.

i was sad.



now i'm listening to cat power. i'm thinking about, thrilled for the canada trip.

i'm... i don't know. i guess i miss learning french. i miss living in israel. i miss school, guide post, history. the english book we have to read is so infinitely dull and horribly stoic. "all the king's men"--brrrrrrrrrrr!....

~~~



i dined alone. in the horrid rain and wind, i stumbled and hopped across puddled pavements to a shawarma and hummus dish, and then i walked back in the darkness, thinking.

~~~


i'm excited to meet the broders again. i just went through a photo album from when i was 6, or 5. and i saw several pictures with them in it.

and i'm feelin' melancholy.

not horribly though. not really. i'm feeling... poetic, almost. no. i'm feeling... absent-minded. bare. jaded. and yet, in some strange way, refreshed almost. new.

it's been almost a year since we moved to great neck. july 30th.


i'm free!

label me: broders, family, food, israel, melancholy, memory, miss, music, nostalgia, rain, travel

it all ties in together.

everything


i understand everything.
my life.

the worldd.

why?

למה?






My most played song on iTunes is Hakayitz HaAcharon by a band called Shefiyot Hazman

שפיות זמנית - הקיץ האחרון
from 1991

the last summer by “time’s illusions”

i don’t know; something about that song makes me melancholy, makes me reflect, makes me... feel so lonely, so full of darkness, so left out... so neglected. but it expresses so many profound and mystical ideas, and i can only... i can only, i don’t know... i love it. it calls to mind israel; the darkness of israel, the sadness, the gloominess, all of my missed opportunities, the homes, the people... i can't tell you. i can't...it is such a mysterious song, so... so full of longing.



the story:

a few weeks ago we drove in the silver toyota

to a park, to costco

two weeks ago, to be exact

and i opened the glove container or whatever

and there’s this colorful cd

and i remembered—i recalled my father telling me that he knows this famous singer and she was his good friend and she signed a cd of hers and gave it to him

he told me this, what—two years ago?

so i put this cd in

and i feel like crying.
...

i want to meet her

i really do.

and it all fits in together. why did i have this sudden connection to the song? this emotional bond with her voice? because i’ve heard it before. years before. in a different time.

it was a one-hit wonder, and then she became a businesswoman.

wow.



why am i telling you this now?

why am i telling you this at all?

i don't know; intrigue. self-fullfillment. life.

~~~

i went to a party on saturday

and it was amazing

valentine’s day party

...


the play is moving along

fine

and i guess...
that’s it.

tuesday early morning
ah.

darkness
cat power
catcher in the rye
chips
sleep
wake up
shower
life

lyrics

this is my last summer with you
with the first rain i’ll disappear
my tears will pour down the streets
like a leaf that falls and far-away hopes
i’m a man of winter amidst men of sea
but in this winter i will not exist
slowly, slowly the layers melt
between wanting, not wanting and last prayers

so remember that you promised not to cry
because the skies are big and the tears are small
close your eyes every first rain
and think of me

i want to climb on the mountains because they’re there
and to visit oversea countries
to know if there is other life forms
and if the dead keep living
because this is my last summer with you
with the first rain i’ll disappear
my tears will pour down the streets
like a leaf that falls and far-away hopes

so remember that you promised not to cry
because the skies are big and the tears are small
close your eyes every first rain
and think of me

label me: friends, future, happiness, israel, life, melancholy, memory, music, nostalgia, play, song, uncertainty

28/01/09

i never though i would say this.

i miss san diego.

san diego--yes--the place i hate, the place i would like to shread with my teeth, the dull, cultureless california capital of boredom.



and yet... i miss it.




1. the beach

yes, yes. i miss the beach. and with the beach comes the sun. and with the sun comes the heat. and with the heat comes the beach. and the beach in sd is so refreshing, marvelously enlivening and the cold water as it spreads through your body, the salt, the waves as they lift you up and down, so brisk and moving and just fun. and the whole beach culture. del mar beach—i love you.


2. i miss my friends. miss being with them. miss having lunch with them, going to the movies with them. arguing with them. miss trying to be the center of attention and not succeeding for more than two seconds.

3. the falconer.
well, i do miss indesign. i love indesign and i haven't been able to use it for the past 8+ months. and the newspaper was so amazing, such an outlet of talent and creativity. and wonderful people. layout nights were astounding. the darkness, knowing that in less than eight hours we would have to be in school again, we are the only souls on campus... ahhh.

4. i miss my school. i miss how it's spread out, and there are barely any hallways, and the sunshine streams through your face as you cross the quad and try to bump into people you know, try to avoid people you know. i miss the warm classes, the open classes with those weird brick-things, and the grass.

5. this one's hard to describe.

i miss--i miss yearning for more culture. i miss waiting. waiting for something to happen. for a play, for a restaurant. i miss listening to music and looking out the window and watching the sun set behind palm trees and writing poetry about how boring and intriguing life is at the same time and walking outside and thinking about nyc and about europe and searching for songs on limewire and taking photographs of ginger and playing with ginger in the yard with a frisbee and i miss walking home with britt and i miss going to the synagogye with sarah and i miss going to that big green beach near downtown with all these israeli friends and i miss riding back home in the middle of the night from the airport with the window open and smell the pungent san diego air and i miss biking over to the five in that little reedy gorge near paradisio and i miss going to ami's house and playing with that pokemon game and i miss sixth period with mrs. king so fucking much, just sitting there next to the desk next to the window with my copy of to kill a mockingbird open and writing about racism and learning that mrs. king's a democrat and i miss mia's antics and sitting on that big couch in the journalism room and i miss being outside in the dark and getting out of the theater after watching a horrid film with my friends and seeing all these other people in the highlands doing their stuff and i miss rubio's fish tacos, crunchy and i miss walking through barnes and nobles and picking out books i want to read and then never think about them again and i miss running the superlap (yes, i do) and i miss those little green plants that look like a bunch of little cucumbers and when you squeeze them all the water comes out and i miss biking in del mar and smelling the air and watching the golden retrievers and the boxers running in the cold water and smiling from ear to ear and i also miss balboa park, and even though i thought balboa park was boring i now realize how exceptionally beautiful, and subtle and lush it was, the golden globe theater--going there with my dad, or with my mom, and watching shakespeare or some other stupid play and drinking hot chocolate and feeling like an adult and then coming home and writing a poem about it and i miss sitting in mom's office and using her computer for doing whatever and i miss scaring mom when i came home from the back gate and i miss my old home, the novelty of it, the crisp white wall edges, the way my father always turned on the fireplace even though it was 60 degrees outside, and i miss waking up to birds twittering in april and then having to get up from my bed at six in the morning and lock the window and i miss my piano lessons with the russian lady whose name i never knew even though i had lessons with her for at least a year and a half once a week and i miss so many things, so many more things.































...

and i am sad.

i miss walking up the big hill listening to wilco's hummingbird. i remember the first day in our new home, and we went to the big grassy park with ginger. and it looks to me so different than it did back then. and i miss frightening carrie in the dark room and i miss playing apples to apples with sarah and everyone else and the sukkah and i miss showing britt my albums (haha haha haha) and i miss going lazer-tagging with matan and rony and walking next to the boats and going to the border with ami and i miss taking long frequent vacations and i miss hating teachers that weren't as bad as i thought they were and i miss i miss i miss.

remember how i used to say how much i hate san diego?

label me: california, falconer, friends, i love san diego, melancholy, memory, miss, moving, san diego, sd, torrey pines high school

25/01/09

Another Snowfall

The world burrows its arms in my flesh
and another snowfall makes its home—
in the deepest whites of my eyes they mesh,
the ice and the glass, the dead earth combed.

Stems, twigs, white wooden men stand
and another root, stiff, ruptures in frost—
a red moon lifts in purple skies, as planned,
but the old sun perishes, thus far: dusk.

The eye sheds its white, piercing skin
and another finger atrophied and potted—
in jars, in vinegar, my eyes shut from within.
I sleep alone—waiting for the world to rot.

we went to manhattan yesterday and met judy and avi and yahli. time square; carmine's. amazing food. enormous dishes. we took the unfinished business home.

in toys-r-us




we saw a bunch of blood in bryant park, near the ice skating rink. some guy fell off a construction thing. another guy was hurt on top of it. who knows. lots of police. lots of firemen. we were not allowed to take picture, but, you know, the rascal that i am... i just couldn't resist.


the snow is melting. i hope it will snow soon.



i have midterms this week. i am so frightened.

obama. i love you.

and nothing really changed. nothing really new.



i downloaded a bunch of beach boys songs last night. it makes me miss california so much.



i miss california--the beach, the sun, the heat. the feeling. i miss it, not in a "i want to live there again" kind of way, but in a "i liked it and i want to visit it". maybe i do want to live there, one day.

on the east coast, i feel, people see the west coast as an exotic, wild place. that's what i felt in november, in sd. the palm trees, the smoggy nights, the hills, the beach, the sun. it's all different.

label me: broders, california, food, i love san diego, manhattan, melancholy, miss, poem