Sunday, June 20, 2010

I miss their house so much. Even though I anyway wouldn't be in it for the next year or so at least, I still tremendously miss it for what it was/for what it is, and the feeling of longing comes and goes, and comes.
I love it. It's either my favorite or my second to favorite place on this Earth. I don't know how to define how wonderful it is. It's got a creak and a smell and a feel, which are all heartmelodying, which all made me fall in love with a place, feel so right in it, so cloudy, so wonderful.
It's gone. And I feel bad for G+G, who now live in a small place, with
no garden, no grass, no forest, no lake, no lawn mower, no deer, no trail, no bench, no tree, no garage, no wood and carpets and ceilings and windows like the ones in here.

No workroom, no smell of tobacco downstairs and gasoline in the garage, no basement with pool and pingpong and nintendo and piano and floor.

I'm trying to read what he wrote about his visit there last year and what he did, and I started reading about how he ran outside in the fog, but I can't continue reading, for some reason it makes me cry so much because it's so beautiful and it's not there for us anymore.
Run, run run, I want to also run out there in the fog and down the trail to the water.
To the endless, endless extravaganza of this overwhelming beautiful world.

I don't think anyone except my family can entirely understand what I'm talking about, and what this home on Ravinoaks lane in Higland Park Illinois means to me.
There's so much so much so much so much that I cry before I manage to read a few words.
So many people filled with so much inside.
Three siblings, each with thunderstorms of brilliant realities.
They're geniuses.
It's beautiful. Beautiful beautiful beautiful.


Discovering things that've been alive and vibrant for so long but not in my bloodsteam make me feel overwhelmed. When someone tells me about something that fits with my head and would add to my world and lighten all sorts of parts of it, I feel tense. Wait, wait wait. If I knew this years ago, it would've fit perfectly into my schemes, where was it? Now I have to add it all over again, re-edit everything in my head with the new information, the new enlightenment.
When someone tells me something so wonderfully fantastical and imaginatory, and idea taht would have made me realize- "This is what I'm talking about".
Like discovering a real word that defines something I've been trying to explain for years.
Well, it's like that, but also a little different.
In any case, it's just as overwhelming.
I want to go back in time and mark that info in, make my life brighter.
I discover people's secret blogs, while I've been only reading the one on the surface, and then it makes me tear from some sort of excitement and volcanation, like- I have so much to add to myself now. There's so much to catch up on. This is amazing, and frustrating, that I only discovered it now. But on the other hand, it proves again and again how much secrecy and hidden layers are enhancing this world. They are the color.
I have lots to write, out of this loneliness I feel. I find so much right now.
And there are so many songs, so many beautiful songs that make me cry. Because of everything.

Wednesday, June 09, 2010

הדבר הכי הכי קשה - יותר מלהיות בצבא - זה פשוט לא להיות יכולה לדבר איתך.
כמו עכשיו, למשל.
שהתחלתי פתאום לבכות בגלל משהו ואז גיליתי עוד משהו שקשור לדבר הזה שמבלבל את הסיטואציה וגרם לי לבכות עוד יותר, וזה התעצם בגלל דבר שלישי שבגללו בכיתי בצהריים, אז הכל מתערבב ביחד בצורות של ייאוש-תסכול-כעס.
הייתי במערבולת כזאת של מלא רגשות ביחד והייתי צריכה פשוט לדבר על זה איתך, למיין את הכל
אבל אין אותך רוב הזמן
אפשר להגיד ש76% מהזמן אי אפשר לדבר איתך

Tuesday, June 08, 2010

There are two topics I know I wrote about but I can't find them anywhere and it's frustrating me because they were important and interesting and I wrote them really well...
At the end of the course back in February we had a short masa at night. We were instructed not to talk (this is a spiritual masa, they explained. I was so happy they made it silent, all walking together, but silence with the sky. This is the kind of thing I wanted). We walked in two rows, olive green figures with weapons... one after the other, marching through a field, in silence. I saw a movie then. I invented a film. On my left were trees, some sort of grove, on my right a large field. The grass started from about my shoulder, so it seemed as if it was a stage and I was under the stage, and on the grass I saw us dancing in the spotlight, wearing white, dancing slowly with the night. And the camera goes back and forth slowly from the dancers to the marchers, white angelic moves to straight walkers with weapons. Freedom versus Army. And in back of us was an ambulance and it's light silhouetted us which made it all even more beautiful.
כמה אהבה כמה אהבה כמה אהבה!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
מתגעגעת לנוכחותו
אני רוצה לבהות בו
רוצה שהוא יחייך אליי
כל כך משגעגעת!
הוא עם העור השחום והעיניים התכולות
בוא הנה
תן לי לקפוץ עליך ולנשום את הצוואר שלך
אוהבת אותך!!!
אבל באמת הרבה יותר מאשר מילים מוקלדות יכולות לספר לך

Sunday, June 06, 2010

Everything is rhytmic

I walk up the street, the red light turns green, man in green walks, three men in yellow in a line, I look, four cross toward me, woman in flowers, stiff shoulders speeding up passing the young man who was in front of the four so now the shape is more rectagnular, cars stop in a line, white silver silver red, light changes. Woman looks left, hair spins 9i na slight angle, while man across the street angles the other direciton. It's so much more intricate, though, when my eyes look aroudn the world. This is just liek a split second demo. It's so much more rhytmic and beautiful when my eyes see it. But I can't really explain it to people, how I see the world.

The nausea I was talking about

I remember what it is that it reminds me of: Having a blood-test, right before fainting.

It's how I feel just for a bit, till I get happy again

Thumpety-thump, I'm on the bus it's skidding through the trees, on the asphalt, and there's music in my ear and in my head there's a movie going along with the song, people, angles, running, something actual and real, something deep and coherent with the world I see through the window of the bus, inside of me. So many trees and green and beauty and people crying, I cry as the bus flies along, not really cry. I want to make movies. I know I'll be amazing at it, it's thumping inside of me it's aching to burst out, what if I die before it happens? Before I fulfill my artistic abilities? I think of some amazing bands, LSD or not, they had it in them, since they were young they had it pumping inside of them, some need to express something higher and deeper, something insider and outsider of us, something like a blade of grass in a million shades. It's inside of me too, I know it, I feel it because it makes me cry because of a nostalgia of something that might never happen. What if horrible things happen, I have to fulfill these dreams, I havta make movies, I have so many in my head already, all in my head. None are outside of my head yet, but all are beautiful and moving. I cry a bit also because Gilad is away all the time, I mean away from his base, away away where he can't talk. He finally comes back after 12 hours and has to go again. We talk for a few minute and he says he has to go for another thing for 12 or so hours, and what I feel in me is complete violence and anger. It feels like my heart is sinking when he says he has to go again, my heart sinks I feel disappointment and violence. I have to scream and break things and punch and hit and swing my arms around and knock down trees, I see it, I see it in my head as I'm on the bus there, watching the trees pass by, I see my hair flying and the rage, sizzling, coming to life. I can't take it, the not talking, the heartsinking, the anger and the sadness. I cannot bare it, it's intolerable.
I wait for twelve hours till he'll finally get back (at 1 am), when he calls we talk for 7 minutes. When I wake up in the morning I try to call him but he's not reachable, finally when he is he has five minutes to talk before he has to go again, but those few minutes are exactly when I'm in the middle of teaching. I get nauseous and I want to scream FUUUCK but that word isn't strong enough, there's no word strong enough to define a fire inside your heart when you want to let your arms free and break everything that comes your way.
At night I dream that he doesn't want to talk to me (even though when I'm awake I know that's not the case), in the day I imagine horrible things, death.
The army is torturing me.
Please, please, PLEASE come home. Talk to me. PLEASE!
and then a few moments later, i'm all different again and i'm happy again.

Thursday, June 03, 2010

It's like
I feel like it's a cage of torture really
Like they're cutting off our fingers
One at a
I can't take it anymore, really it makes me nauseous.
When they take them to do something hard and we can't talk and finally when he gets back
He tells me they're off for something else, without any sleep.
When I read the sms, I feel naesous. I associate it with things, but I don't know with what.
I mean, the feeling of having something make you nauseous.
Maybe being at the dentist?
When I was at the Eye Doctor to get lenses and I put the lenses in it made me nauseous and also then I remembered a certain feeling, but I don't remember what it's from and when I experienced it.
Now I'm associating it with a Clockwork Orange, is it that movie?
It's that kind of nausea.
So I delete the sms fast before the anger and violence bubble up inside of me. It makes me mad, all this madness, makes me sick. How can they make them do such hard things, and not sleep, and all the other bad things about it.
For about four months already G has been having pain in his mouth from a cavity and they didn't let him go to the dentist, by now he probably needs surgery...
At first thought, I wanted to curse the army. But I wouldn't do that. This is our army. And it's amazing.
It's just nauseating, and it makes me cry.