notes from the nice side of the fence

I have a friend who says “how can I put it” a lot. I always like it when she does that, because of the way she averts her eyes and puts on a hint of a grin, in anticipation of her own witticism. it will be like “how can I put it… let’s just say he wouldn’t know a veggie burger if you shoved one up his ass!”. we laugh.

so how-can-I-put-its can be very useful sometimes, especially if you’re afflicted to the bone with the delicate art of British Understatement, as I like to think of myself being.

I was reminded of all of this when I started thinking about a certain person whose premises I used to frequent, for purposes my older and married sister would deem (and has deemed) completely illicit. a colleague at work introduced us, we met, sat down, I ate - and before he could finish saying “so… what do your parents do?” I knew in my heart that, sweet as we both were, this would never work. there wasn’t, as such, a complete sentence in my mind that I felt I would want to communicate to him. that said, he was very nice to look at.

so I did what I almost never do: I told him exactly what I thought. it so happened that he came back with “yeah, I kinda dig that too.”

3 months later. it has been a satisfying arrangement. but suddenly the costs of taxiing across town at 1am seem to outweigh the orgasms. I consult.

“I don’t know, it’s just like, the last time I was over at his - I don’t know why, I just felt like a piece of meat. we’d had really hot sex up till then.”

“how long has your thing together been going on?”

“three months.”

“well, of course, it’s the three months thing. everybody knows it takes three months for a good fuck buddy to lose flavour.”

my Everybody Knows Friend was right. she often is. I was amazed - was this biological fact? astrological perhaps? summer blues? I mean, nothing has essentially changed, and yet, it’s just not exciting anymore.

but ah. suddenly I remembered a crucial turn-off point. I may have repressed our ideological differences, faint as they could be seen through a thick veil of small-talk, for the sake of makeshift sensuality and a hard body. I mean, what would you have done:

“of course, if they had a pill for gays to take to become straight, then everyone would take it.”

I can’t remember if I was taking my socks on or off when this little pearl landed at my feet. it should have been on.

“oh really? you mean to say, you would have taken it?”

“well yeah, think about it. everything would have been easier that way. you wouldn’t have had to suffer or.. you know.”

this was a perfect no-I-don’t-know-why-don’t-you-extrapulate-asshole moment, but I chose patience instead.

“but you know, taken to its logical conclusion, this can only mean the best thing is for everyone to be the same. and ideas like that haven’t exactly been working out in human history. I mean, kids can come down on you hard as ginger, let alone gay. would you rather dye your kid’s hair black so they can go to school, or help create a safe environment where they will be respected as an individual?”

“… yeah, I guess you’re right. I mean, I wouldn’t want kids anyway.”

yeah. well, how can I put it - it’s a good thing no one’s gonna force you to have ‘em.

so, I spent a week in Lotan last week where I successfully separated red worms from a very decaying heap of compost.

not before inquiring with my reluctant partner in crime, a friendly Jewish graduate who had immigrated to Israel recently and is now an Eco-Volunteer at this remote corner of the desert, or Eco-Freako in the local lingo.

“are these worms… precious?”

I was new on the scene and likely to stay a while so I was thinking when-in-rome but at the same time desperately hoped my point would not go unnoticed. people are generally intelligent but you never know, this one could have just passed them. I mean, surely this isn’t cost-effective. we could be building in mud or something sensual like that, and just dump the compost across the organic garden, worms and all. unless we go at the sifting exercise as a kind of a non-attachment meditation. as in not attaching to the most horrible stench I had ever experienced.

“they’re about a shekel a pop, apparently. in the US you can buy them by the kilo.”

so ok. the kibbutz is obviously not doing fantastically well in the financial front. which pairs great with going Green. and I could learn something from this, I told myself. and I dug in. our team leader was kind enough to equip us with little gardening tools so as not to use our bare hands, which he himself didn’t seem to mind.

the word ewww will never be quite the same after this.

in other news, me and a few friends are shooting a video this week for a song I wrote called “in my blood”. I say that, but in reality it’s an exercise a Very Talented Friend is doing for his degree in moviemaking. he wanted me for the lead, so I said “but also a video” and e-pouted slightly. he liked the song and said ok. the video is about a vampire, and hopefully will be up here soon.

love

S.

the desert