Just got back from another road trip to Detroit. I had to meet yet again with the bosses at the magazine, but this time we got everything sorted out and I will finally start on Monday. The job is a perfect fit for me, I like the guys who I'll be working with, I can work from home (good since I haven't managed to get a car since I got back) and they agreed to pay me what I asked.
Now I'll need to start looking into getting a car and then getting out of Cleveland again. All told, putting my life back together in the US has been going pretty smoothly.
If you're interested, this is me.
Now I'll need to start looking into getting a car and then getting out of Cleveland again. All told, putting my life back together in the US has been going pretty smoothly.
If you're interested, this is me.
Starting to get a bit bored. My job still hasn't started up and I'm just sitting around the house all day. I'm going to Detroit next week to meet with the guys from the magazine that I'll be working for. I need to negotiate a salary, work out some of the logistics, etc. It'll be good to take a road trip, and the guys I already know from the magazine are cool, so it should be a good time. But the more important thing is that it will hopefully get things moving, get me stuff to do and get some money coming in.
I've already managed to catch a cold. I just wasn't prepared for Cleveland winter after all those years in Tel Aviv. At least I've had plenty of time to recover. Nothing much else to report for now.
I've already managed to catch a cold. I just wasn't prepared for Cleveland winter after all those years in Tel Aviv. At least I've had plenty of time to recover. Nothing much else to report for now.
I'm in Cleveland now, and fighting my jetlag. I think that I've got the job thing covered. I was contacted by a new automotive website that wants to put me in charge of their news content, so assuming that the pay is something that I can live off of, then I'm set there. Rather more complicated is finding a place to live. I'm staying with my sister at the moment, and although she and I are close, I'd really like to have my own space. The problem is that I'm not really keen on staying in Cleveland for too long, so I'm trying to avoid signing a lease, and therein lies the difficulty in finding a place to live.
Other than that, it's great to be back. I don't wish to badmouth where I was before, because I have absolutely no regrets about my decision to move there, but it has been an enormous relief to be back in this country. I even have plans to go see a Pogues cover band on the 23rd, which is excellent because I'm dying to see some live music. All that's left is to get my life in order, but there's nothing like enduring several years of abject poverty while simultaneously trying to deal with the stresses of life in the Middle East to give you the feeling that anything after that will be easy.
Other than that, it's great to be back. I don't wish to badmouth where I was before, because I have absolutely no regrets about my decision to move there, but it has been an enormous relief to be back in this country. I even have plans to go see a Pogues cover band on the 23rd, which is excellent because I'm dying to see some live music. All that's left is to get my life in order, but there's nothing like enduring several years of abject poverty while simultaneously trying to deal with the stresses of life in the Middle East to give you the feeling that anything after that will be easy.
Today I quit my job and got a one-way ticket to Cleveland. I'll be getting on the plane with two suitcases, a few hundred dollars and nothing else in the world. It's not the first time I've done it, not even the first time that move involved moving to another country, but staring into the abyss like that is always a bit harrowing. I don't' exactly have a plan for once I'm in the US, beyond where I'll be sleeping for the first few weeks. I have a year (and change) of experience as a contributing editor of a car magazine that I'll be trying to use to find a job but that's as far as I've gotten, still more than I had when I moved here. Probably won't be staying in Cleveland any longer than is absolutely essential either, although it's still unclear what city would be next. I've got it narrowed down to Detroit, Austin and Nashville, all for different reasons. I guess we'll just wait and see.
My Yom Kippur fast is finally, mercifully, over. Had a great meal, and now I'm relaxing. Walked around the city a bunch, got some great photos:
So, my magazine killed this story after I had already written it. I'm going to rework it and try to sell it somewhere else, but for now I'll post it here.
It's You
I won’t tell you her name. This is done party as a courtesy, but it has also been many years and hundreds of thousands of miles since that night, and I confess I have forgotten what it was. I do, however, remember that she was beautiful. I was at a friend’s house, two friends actually, who shared the upstairs of a duplex in an old house with a wide balcony. That summer, we filled up the hours as young people often do. We would sit on the balcony, drink beer, listen to music and have the kinds of pointless conversations which people who spend too much time together have, generally well into the night, and often until the morning.
On this particular night, she was already there when I arrived with my contribution to the night’s beer stocks. There was nothing unusual about someone I didn’t know being there, there were always a half-dozen or so people in attendance that didn’t live there, and I only sometimes knew all of them. She was an excellent conversationalist, charming and a very animated talker. It wasn’t obvious to me how she knew anybody else there, but she seemed to be at least an acquaintance of everybody but me. When it came time for me to leave, one of the hosts asked me if I would drive the girl home. She was somehow there without a car and although it wasn’t exactly on my way home, it wasn’t too far out of my way either.
We got to my car, and as we pulled out onto the street, the song “It’s You” by Toots and the Maytals came on my stereo. Her face lit up and she reached over and turned up the volume. She began to dance along, at least as much as is possible while seated without look ridiculous, and ridiculous was the last thing she looked like. Her eyes were closed and her hands were on her head, tousling her hair as she danced, her graceful figure moving in time to the music. I had rolled down all the windows and opened the sunroof, allowing the music to mingle with the rush of air and the hot, high-pitched whine of the supercharger; the muggy night air mixing with just the right amount of her perfume.
The song ended just as we pulled up to a red light and I looked over at her. Some of the hair she had been playing with hung in front of her face. Her eyes glowed, and a smile was spread broadly across her pretty but partly obscured face. “I don’t know how anyone couldn’t like this music.” she said, before continuing “I don’t like to think this, but I think anyone who doesn’t must be a bad person.” She gave a little laugh and resumed her dancing as the next song started. We didn’t talk much for the rest of the ride, after all, what was there to say? She just enjoyed the music while I enjoyed what turned out to be an excellent drive, made that much better because the angelic brunette next to me was also having a good time.
She told me when we arrived at what turned out to be her parents’ house, and I pulled into the driveway. She hopped out, still wearing that bewitching smile and saying that she hoped to see me again soon. I never did see her again though, and a few years later I remember hearing someone say that she (whatever her name was) had gotten married, although it was still unclear how this person knew her.
I’ve had plenty of great drives since then, and I’ve been around plenty of beautiful women, but every so often, something in my brain will send me back to that night. The right driving conditions, the right summer night or the right Toots and the Maytals song and I’ll be back in that car, with its intoxicating mix of stimuli. I couldn’t tell you what it was exactly about that drive that made it stay with me for so long, but I think all of the best times have an element to them that you will never be able to explain.
It's You
I won’t tell you her name. This is done party as a courtesy, but it has also been many years and hundreds of thousands of miles since that night, and I confess I have forgotten what it was. I do, however, remember that she was beautiful. I was at a friend’s house, two friends actually, who shared the upstairs of a duplex in an old house with a wide balcony. That summer, we filled up the hours as young people often do. We would sit on the balcony, drink beer, listen to music and have the kinds of pointless conversations which people who spend too much time together have, generally well into the night, and often until the morning.
On this particular night, she was already there when I arrived with my contribution to the night’s beer stocks. There was nothing unusual about someone I didn’t know being there, there were always a half-dozen or so people in attendance that didn’t live there, and I only sometimes knew all of them. She was an excellent conversationalist, charming and a very animated talker. It wasn’t obvious to me how she knew anybody else there, but she seemed to be at least an acquaintance of everybody but me. When it came time for me to leave, one of the hosts asked me if I would drive the girl home. She was somehow there without a car and although it wasn’t exactly on my way home, it wasn’t too far out of my way either.
We got to my car, and as we pulled out onto the street, the song “It’s You” by Toots and the Maytals came on my stereo. Her face lit up and she reached over and turned up the volume. She began to dance along, at least as much as is possible while seated without look ridiculous, and ridiculous was the last thing she looked like. Her eyes were closed and her hands were on her head, tousling her hair as she danced, her graceful figure moving in time to the music. I had rolled down all the windows and opened the sunroof, allowing the music to mingle with the rush of air and the hot, high-pitched whine of the supercharger; the muggy night air mixing with just the right amount of her perfume.
The song ended just as we pulled up to a red light and I looked over at her. Some of the hair she had been playing with hung in front of her face. Her eyes glowed, and a smile was spread broadly across her pretty but partly obscured face. “I don’t know how anyone couldn’t like this music.” she said, before continuing “I don’t like to think this, but I think anyone who doesn’t must be a bad person.” She gave a little laugh and resumed her dancing as the next song started. We didn’t talk much for the rest of the ride, after all, what was there to say? She just enjoyed the music while I enjoyed what turned out to be an excellent drive, made that much better because the angelic brunette next to me was also having a good time.
She told me when we arrived at what turned out to be her parents’ house, and I pulled into the driveway. She hopped out, still wearing that bewitching smile and saying that she hoped to see me again soon. I never did see her again though, and a few years later I remember hearing someone say that she (whatever her name was) had gotten married, although it was still unclear how this person knew her.
I’ve had plenty of great drives since then, and I’ve been around plenty of beautiful women, but every so often, something in my brain will send me back to that night. The right driving conditions, the right summer night or the right Toots and the Maytals song and I’ll be back in that car, with its intoxicating mix of stimuli. I couldn’t tell you what it was exactly about that drive that made it stay with me for so long, but I think all of the best times have an element to them that you will never be able to explain.
My best friend tried to kill himself a couple days ago. This has never happened before, not a close call, not so much as a threat, nothing. I just didn't expect it. I knew he'd been depressed, but he'd been depressed for over a year. His life had kind of fallen apart but he was doing an admirable job of keeping together the parts of his life that he could. I'd talked to him, and tried to be there for him as much as I could. He was really strong through what I had thought was the worst of it. I saw him when I was back in the US, and sure, he wasn't exactly the happiest I'd ever seen him, but he seemed to be doing so much better than he had been a few months before, I'd thought we were out of the woods.
I've tried calling him, now that he's out of the hospital, but I still haven't gotten a hold of him. I got the news from a mutual friend who was the one who actually called the police and had them break down his door. I'm grateful that she's kept me in the loop, but I've been having a hard time with this. I hate that I'm so far away, in another country. My friend needed someone and I was all the way over here. I hate this helpless feeling of not being around the people I care about. I don't know what to do.
I've tried calling him, now that he's out of the hospital, but I still haven't gotten a hold of him. I got the news from a mutual friend who was the one who actually called the police and had them break down his door. I'm grateful that she's kept me in the loop, but I've been having a hard time with this. I hate that I'm so far away, in another country. My friend needed someone and I was all the way over here. I hate this helpless feeling of not being around the people I care about. I don't know what to do.
Went all the way to Jerusalem for a tattoo today. Ok, so it's not that far, but I hadn't been to that city in a long time, and I will concede that the weather there is much nicer than in Tel Aviv. Far too many religious people though. I have quite a few tattoos, and I was hanging out with a dude who has a giant tattoo that says "skinhead" on his neck, so the two of us got plenty of dirty looks. Not that it bothers me, those people can go fuck themselves, but I can't imagine living in a place like that. Anyway, dude did a great job with my tattoo and I'm going back in a few weeks for another one, because it has been far too long since I got tattooed.
Still listening to that new Hank3. It's kinda hit or miss, but the songs that are good are impossible to get out of your head.
