The wine leaves a crimson stain on her lips. The "boom" causes her fingers to tremble when she passes me the bottle. "The lion is roaring", I say. I fell the wine's swish in my throat when I swallow.
"The shepherds have left the field.", she says.
"There was no more grain."
"No. None outside of the palace."
She takes back the bottle. "My uncle was a shepherd, but he's been staying with us ever since they ravaged the countryside." She takes a sip.
"I hear they burned all the grass." It is only as the words leave my lips, that I realize how worrying they must be.
She wipes her lips with the back of her hand. I want to kiss the crimson stain spreading to her fingers.
"A lion's roar is like a kiss. It can not be put back into his mouth."
She laughs. Our eyes meet. Another rocket sounds.
I kiss her as the city walls come tumbling down upon us; her lips are mightier than the foundations of the temple, her tongue sweeter than the wine spilling out from the half-empty bottle that lies beside my feet.
It took Nebuchadnezzar thirty months and five armies to scale the heights of the temple; it took me one hour and two pairs of thighs.
Tuesday, November 27, 2012
Jeremiah 26
Jeremiah was tired; he could see the sun reflected off the brown stones, as he climbed his way to the courtyard. The smell of roast lamb assailed his nostrils, mingled with rosewater and sweat. He licked his lips, trying not to imagine the feel of her mouth, or the touch of her thighs.
"This city will be like Shiloh, a curse upon the lips of those who pass her by."
He felt a hand on his shoulder; golden bangles and a hint of rosemary. "You lie."
The hiss grew louder; a mob of men, robed in their finest linen, came slithering towards him.
"What's all the commotion?"
It was the same priest Jeremiah had seen by the fig tree the night before - their eyes met for a moment.
"This man claims Jerusalem will become like Shiloh."
"Indeed? That is a serious charge - let me summon the sires of Judah. After all, we want to make sure justice in this case is - satisfied." His smirked.
Jeremiah considered running, but the pressure of the man's hand on his shoulder convinced him not to.
"Let us hear."
The three sires of Judah wore robes of crimson and scarlet;their beards showed evidence of frequent trips to the barbers.
"God has sent me: Better your ways, harken to His voice, and He will repent of the evil that He has declared against you. As for me, I am in your hands, but know this: If you kill me, you spill clean blood."
He could see them whispering to each other. The people stood still, silent. Jeremiah was reminded of Yom Kippur, when the masses would wordlessly wait to find out their verdict, written in the face of the High Priest when he emerged from the Kadosh Hakodashim.
"A man prophecied against Jerusalem in the days of Hezekiah. Thanks to him, men mended their ways, and we were saved. Yet a man prophecied the same thing in the days of Yehoyakim, and the king sent assasins to Egypt to ensure the punishment of the wrong-doer."
The people breathed. He could feel their screams; the ground was trembling beneath him.
A different hand on his shoulder; the smell of mint and cedar. A cloak thrown over his shoulders, sheilding his eyes. He let himself be guided; the blue wool felt warm against his cheek, and he longed for water. He continued downward, guided by the palm of a stranger.
When the cloak was off, Jeremiah found himself looking into a pair of the bluest eyes he had ever seen.
"Thank you", he said, but by the time the words were out of his mouth, the man had already turned the corner, his cloak a blue pile tucked beneath his right arm. Jeremiah watched the receding figure, until he could see it no more.
"This city will be like Shiloh, a curse upon the lips of those who pass her by."
He felt a hand on his shoulder; golden bangles and a hint of rosemary. "You lie."
The hiss grew louder; a mob of men, robed in their finest linen, came slithering towards him.
"What's all the commotion?"
It was the same priest Jeremiah had seen by the fig tree the night before - their eyes met for a moment.
"This man claims Jerusalem will become like Shiloh."
"Indeed? That is a serious charge - let me summon the sires of Judah. After all, we want to make sure justice in this case is - satisfied." His smirked.
Jeremiah considered running, but the pressure of the man's hand on his shoulder convinced him not to.
"Let us hear."
The three sires of Judah wore robes of crimson and scarlet;their beards showed evidence of frequent trips to the barbers.
"God has sent me: Better your ways, harken to His voice, and He will repent of the evil that He has declared against you. As for me, I am in your hands, but know this: If you kill me, you spill clean blood."
He could see them whispering to each other. The people stood still, silent. Jeremiah was reminded of Yom Kippur, when the masses would wordlessly wait to find out their verdict, written in the face of the High Priest when he emerged from the Kadosh Hakodashim.
"A man prophecied against Jerusalem in the days of Hezekiah. Thanks to him, men mended their ways, and we were saved. Yet a man prophecied the same thing in the days of Yehoyakim, and the king sent assasins to Egypt to ensure the punishment of the wrong-doer."
The people breathed. He could feel their screams; the ground was trembling beneath him.
A different hand on his shoulder; the smell of mint and cedar. A cloak thrown over his shoulders, sheilding his eyes. He let himself be guided; the blue wool felt warm against his cheek, and he longed for water. He continued downward, guided by the palm of a stranger.
When the cloak was off, Jeremiah found himself looking into a pair of the bluest eyes he had ever seen.
"Thank you", he said, but by the time the words were out of his mouth, the man had already turned the corner, his cloak a blue pile tucked beneath his right arm. Jeremiah watched the receding figure, until he could see it no more.
Sunday, November 18, 2012
I bet you didn't expect to see a poem about the virgin mary on this blog, now did you?
I can't fall asleep (despite having cut down on caffeine!) yet am too tired to read case-law in Hebrew (i.e. do my homework) so I've been going through my inbox, deleting various things.
I stumbled across this ballad about the Virgin Mary, which is an ecphrastic piece based on a painting of the Virgin of the Walters Art Museum. It was an assignment for a class taught at JHU by Pamela Kirpatrick.
I thought it was fun and decided to upload it:
Bordello Mary: strawberry lips
and sweet almond-eyes.
Behind the white gauzy virgin’s veil,
she fills men with surprise.
God in a rush of white wings:
saying Oh Jesus, Oh Jesus
anointed in shattered-latex dreams,
hands are cradling thighs.
Plucked eyebrows, golden hair,
burnished robe of roses.
Green mantle and silver star,
creases under eyes.
When he glided away, your feathered
fingers full of surprise,
did you know that day that from you
the world’s glory would rise?
I stumbled across this ballad about the Virgin Mary, which is an ecphrastic piece based on a painting of the Virgin of the Walters Art Museum. It was an assignment for a class taught at JHU by Pamela Kirpatrick.
I thought it was fun and decided to upload it:
Bordello Mary: strawberry lips
and sweet almond-eyes.
Behind the white gauzy virgin’s veil,
she fills men with surprise.
God in a rush of white wings:
saying Oh Jesus, Oh Jesus
anointed in shattered-latex dreams,
hands are cradling thighs.
Plucked eyebrows, golden hair,
burnished robe of roses.
Green mantle and silver star,
creases under eyes.
When he glided away, your feathered
fingers full of surprise,
did you know that day that from you
the world’s glory would rise?
Thursday, November 15, 2012
Jeremiah 24 (1)
The figs were soft and plump against my palms, my fingers painted by
their purple skins. "These are those whom I have sent away". I push
their seeds against my tongue, feel their sweetness on my lips. Later, I
place my palm against the rotting green that lies on the ground beneath the trees.
"And these are the ones who have stayed". No lips will ever taste their
smashed skins; I wish that I
wanted to touch them. "Before you were born...". Rotted, before these
fruits began to flower. There is something poisonous about their
loneliness - their soft splitting makes them seem needy. I reach down,
and rub their blackening seeds on my lips.
"Are you annointing yourself now?" her tone is bemused. I smell rosewater on her breath. My ancestors once annointed themselves in oil, before going to smoke sheep for the Temple. The only thing I've ever smoked is a bag of hashish, once, when I grew bored while tending the cattle. The night was cold, and in the haze of the smoke, I thought I could see angels. "You must have been dreaming", my mother said. My brother told me he wasn't wasting another bag of hash on me if I saw angels. "When I get high, I see women with tits the size of watermelons."
"But I hate watermelons!"
"Dude, that's totally not the point."
Her fingers are on my cheeks. "I could annoint you, if you'd like."
"How much extra for the role-play?"
"A basketful of wool."
"I have no money."
"Then get out of my fig-grove."
Of course - how silly of me to think that this could be pristine. "What did you expect Jeremiah? We live in a post-modern universe." God was smoking his pipe, explaining to me that things had gone down-hill ever since the potters left to mold royal bowls for the exiled king. "Have you seen the dishes Zedekiah uses? I wouldn't feed my cat from those things." I nodded. I was kind of tired and wanted to go to sleep, but how do you politely excuse yourself from the Divine Presence? There just isn't any protocol for that. "Did you know last night your brother dreamt of women with tits the size of watermelons?" "No? Really?" "Yeah. Imagine how dissapointed he was when he woke up and discovered his wife's tits were the size of apples." God allowed Himself a laugh. I yawned. "I supposed you'd better sleep - you have a long day ahead of you, what with predicting the return of the captives and the captivity of the royalty, and all that. Here, take some figs on your way out." They feel soft and plump against my palms, my fingers painted by their purple skins. I push their seeds against my tongue, feel their sweetness on my lips. Why did I send her away? I fall asleep dreaming of her rose-water breath - her tits are the size of apples:
I want to bite in.
"Are you annointing yourself now?" her tone is bemused. I smell rosewater on her breath. My ancestors once annointed themselves in oil, before going to smoke sheep for the Temple. The only thing I've ever smoked is a bag of hashish, once, when I grew bored while tending the cattle. The night was cold, and in the haze of the smoke, I thought I could see angels. "You must have been dreaming", my mother said. My brother told me he wasn't wasting another bag of hash on me if I saw angels. "When I get high, I see women with tits the size of watermelons."
"But I hate watermelons!"
"Dude, that's totally not the point."
Her fingers are on my cheeks. "I could annoint you, if you'd like."
"How much extra for the role-play?"
"A basketful of wool."
"I have no money."
"Then get out of my fig-grove."
Of course - how silly of me to think that this could be pristine. "What did you expect Jeremiah? We live in a post-modern universe." God was smoking his pipe, explaining to me that things had gone down-hill ever since the potters left to mold royal bowls for the exiled king. "Have you seen the dishes Zedekiah uses? I wouldn't feed my cat from those things." I nodded. I was kind of tired and wanted to go to sleep, but how do you politely excuse yourself from the Divine Presence? There just isn't any protocol for that. "Did you know last night your brother dreamt of women with tits the size of watermelons?" "No? Really?" "Yeah. Imagine how dissapointed he was when he woke up and discovered his wife's tits were the size of apples." God allowed Himself a laugh. I yawned. "I supposed you'd better sleep - you have a long day ahead of you, what with predicting the return of the captives and the captivity of the royalty, and all that. Here, take some figs on your way out." They feel soft and plump against my palms, my fingers painted by their purple skins. I push their seeds against my tongue, feel their sweetness on my lips. Why did I send her away? I fall asleep dreaming of her rose-water breath - her tits are the size of apples:
I want to bite in.
Jeremiah 24
The figs were soft and plump against my palms, my fingers painted by
their purple skins. "These are those whom I have sent away". I push
their seeds against my tongue, feel their sweetness on my lips. Later, I
place my palm against the rotting green that lies beneath the trees.
"And these are the ones who have stayed". No lips will ever taste their
smashed skins; their tiny seeds tremble against the ground. I wish that I
wanted to touch them. "Before you were born...". Rotted, before these
fruits began to flower. There is something poisonous about their
loneliness. Their soft splitting makes them seem needy. I reach down,
and rub the blackening seeds on my lips.
"Are you annointing yourself now?" her tone is bemused. I can smell the rosewater on her breath. My ancestors once annointed themselves in oil, before going to smoke sheep for the Temple. The only thing I've ever smoked is a bag of hashish, once, when I grew bored with tending the cattle. The night was cold, and in the haze of the smoke, I thought I could see angels. "You must have been dreaming", my mother said, when I told her. My brother told me he wasn't wasting another bag of hash on me if I saw angels. "When I get high, I see women with tits the size of watermelons."
"But I hate watermelons!"
"Dude, that's totally not the point."
Her fingers are on my cheeks. "I could annoint you, if you'd like."
"How much extra for the role-play?"
"A basketful of wool."
"I have no money."
"Then get out of my fig-grove."
Of course - how silly of me to think that this could be pristine. "What did you expect Jeremiah? We live in a post-modern universe." God was smoking his pipe, explaining to me that things had gone down-hill ever since the potters left to mold royal bowls for the king to use in exile. "Have you seen the dishes Zedekiah uses? I wouldn't feed my cat from those things." I nodded. I was kind of tired and wanted to go to sleep, but how do you politely excuse yourself from the Divine Presence? There just isn't any protocol for that. "Did you know last night your brother dreamt of women with tits the size of watermelons?" "No? Really?" "Yeah. Imagine how dissapointed he was when he woke up and discovered his wife's tits were the size of apples." God allowed Himself a laugh. I yawned. "I supposed you'd better sleep - you have a long day ahead of you, what with predicting the return of the captives and the captivity of the royalty, and all that. Here, take some figs on your way out." They feel soft and plump against my palms, my fingers painted by their purple skins. I push their seeds against my tongue, feel their sweetness on my lips. Why did I send her away? I fall asleep dreaming of her rose-water breath and her brown hair - her tits are the size of apples:
I want to bite in.
"Are you annointing yourself now?" her tone is bemused. I can smell the rosewater on her breath. My ancestors once annointed themselves in oil, before going to smoke sheep for the Temple. The only thing I've ever smoked is a bag of hashish, once, when I grew bored with tending the cattle. The night was cold, and in the haze of the smoke, I thought I could see angels. "You must have been dreaming", my mother said, when I told her. My brother told me he wasn't wasting another bag of hash on me if I saw angels. "When I get high, I see women with tits the size of watermelons."
"But I hate watermelons!"
"Dude, that's totally not the point."
Her fingers are on my cheeks. "I could annoint you, if you'd like."
"How much extra for the role-play?"
"A basketful of wool."
"I have no money."
"Then get out of my fig-grove."
Of course - how silly of me to think that this could be pristine. "What did you expect Jeremiah? We live in a post-modern universe." God was smoking his pipe, explaining to me that things had gone down-hill ever since the potters left to mold royal bowls for the king to use in exile. "Have you seen the dishes Zedekiah uses? I wouldn't feed my cat from those things." I nodded. I was kind of tired and wanted to go to sleep, but how do you politely excuse yourself from the Divine Presence? There just isn't any protocol for that. "Did you know last night your brother dreamt of women with tits the size of watermelons?" "No? Really?" "Yeah. Imagine how dissapointed he was when he woke up and discovered his wife's tits were the size of apples." God allowed Himself a laugh. I yawned. "I supposed you'd better sleep - you have a long day ahead of you, what with predicting the return of the captives and the captivity of the royalty, and all that. Here, take some figs on your way out." They feel soft and plump against my palms, my fingers painted by their purple skins. I push their seeds against my tongue, feel their sweetness on my lips. Why did I send her away? I fall asleep dreaming of her rose-water breath and her brown hair - her tits are the size of apples:
I want to bite in.
Jeremiah 23
I am tired of spilling my words like fine wine, of stumbling through the streets like the drunkard who grey rags are stained red. I see priests standing in the shadows, their white robes gliding like swans from their bodies, borne upon the fingers of ladies whose price I can not afford.
The prophets who speak words of comfort, who urge each man to grasp his sword, their coffers are filled with gold, their bodies bound in the finest wool. Every night, they take a different lover to their crimson sheets.
God tells me He will raise their staff against them. I am not sure what it means exactly - to me, it sounds vaguely masturbatory - which makes sense I suppose: Like wasted seed, their words can become nothing more than dirt to be trod on by beggars' bare-feet. The old woman will curse men as she wipes their rotting semen from between her toes.
My words on the other hand, will produce flowers: red petals of wars, the thorns of exile, all to be plucked into a lovely bouquet, and used by a man to propose to his girlfriend on the banks of Babylon.
The priest has finished his business; he recognizes me, and gives me a satisfied smile on his way back to the temple gates. He knows he will see me there tomorrow, being mocked like a drunkard, as I spill the truth on a people who do not deserve it. These men, so discerning in their taste of women and wine, clearly can't tell a thing when it comes to literature: If they could, they would realize that each letter I speak is precious, each word worth at least a pound of purple wool.
If they paid me that, I would use it to buy the girl on that corner a bunch of flowers.
The prophets who speak words of comfort, who urge each man to grasp his sword, their coffers are filled with gold, their bodies bound in the finest wool. Every night, they take a different lover to their crimson sheets.
God tells me He will raise their staff against them. I am not sure what it means exactly - to me, it sounds vaguely masturbatory - which makes sense I suppose: Like wasted seed, their words can become nothing more than dirt to be trod on by beggars' bare-feet. The old woman will curse men as she wipes their rotting semen from between her toes.
My words on the other hand, will produce flowers: red petals of wars, the thorns of exile, all to be plucked into a lovely bouquet, and used by a man to propose to his girlfriend on the banks of Babylon.
The priest has finished his business; he recognizes me, and gives me a satisfied smile on his way back to the temple gates. He knows he will see me there tomorrow, being mocked like a drunkard, as I spill the truth on a people who do not deserve it. These men, so discerning in their taste of women and wine, clearly can't tell a thing when it comes to literature: If they could, they would realize that each letter I speak is precious, each word worth at least a pound of purple wool.
If they paid me that, I would use it to buy the girl on that corner a bunch of flowers.
Wednesday, November 14, 2012
How To Write Porn
Do you remember that night when I felt your breasts for the first time? They were round and soft, except for your nipples, which were hard, and fit perfectly in the space in between my forefinger and my thumb. I wanted to nibble, but the store-owner was giving us a funny look, and you giggled when I pushed you up against the beer cans. I could feel my groin on yours, and we started dancing to the non-music.
"I'm sorry about the party", I said.
"Sh!" You pushed my face into your collar-bone. I couldn't breathe. You gasped so loudly when I kissed your neck, I was afraid the store-owner would get up from behind the counter, but he was too busy looking at his ipad - watching porn, probably.
I hate writing about sex. I hate being forced to concretize my experience into a series of images. "But you have to", you said, when you were leaning over me, my notebook in my lap, your breasts digging into my shoulders, your hair hanging over my head.
"Why?" I asked.
"Because it's an erotica course. That means your writing has to be - well, erotic."
I laughed. You sat down across from me. I could see your turqoise underwear from between your uncrossed legs. "You really should start wearing longer skirts".
You grabbed the pen and notebook out of my hands.
"Now, what are your top three body parts?"
"I don't know."
"Think. You must have some preferences!".
"Ok. Thighs, breasts, forehead."
"Forehead? Really?"
"Sure. Didn't you know the brain's the sexiest part of the body?"
"Ok. Now three verbs."
"Um. Kiss. Touch. Entwine."
"Now, two adjectives."
"Wet?"
You rolled your eyes. "Really? That's so cliche. How about - moist."
"Yeah, because that's so much better."
"You know, sarcasm isn't becoming on you."
"What about humor?"
"Nah. I prefer cruelty."
"Goody. Should we start the spanking?"
You laughed, and continued writing.
"Ok. How does this sound?
He kissed her thighs; she could feel her pubic hair touching his forehead. That night they played a game: the entwining of the bodies. They drank the moist sweat from each other's skin. He fell asleep with the taste of her breasts on his tongue, and her hand between his thighs.
How's that?"
"Awful. Just awful." He was laughing so hard, it was difficult to speak.
"Well at least it fulfills the terms of the assignment."
She threw a pillow at him. He marched over to the bed and took off her skirt with his right hand, pinning her wrist down to the sheets with his left. He kissed her on the lips, then on the ear. She giggled. They spent the night engaged in the twining and untwining of their bodies. He kissed her thighs; she could feel her pubic hair touching his forehead. He fell asleep as the sun was rising, with the taste of her breasts on his tongue, and her hand between his thighs.
"I'm sorry about the party", I said.
"Sh!" You pushed my face into your collar-bone. I couldn't breathe. You gasped so loudly when I kissed your neck, I was afraid the store-owner would get up from behind the counter, but he was too busy looking at his ipad - watching porn, probably.
I hate writing about sex. I hate being forced to concretize my experience into a series of images. "But you have to", you said, when you were leaning over me, my notebook in my lap, your breasts digging into my shoulders, your hair hanging over my head.
"Why?" I asked.
"Because it's an erotica course. That means your writing has to be - well, erotic."
I laughed. You sat down across from me. I could see your turqoise underwear from between your uncrossed legs. "You really should start wearing longer skirts".
You grabbed the pen and notebook out of my hands.
"Now, what are your top three body parts?"
"I don't know."
"Think. You must have some preferences!".
"Ok. Thighs, breasts, forehead."
"Forehead? Really?"
"Sure. Didn't you know the brain's the sexiest part of the body?"
"Ok. Now three verbs."
"Um. Kiss. Touch. Entwine."
"Now, two adjectives."
"Wet?"
You rolled your eyes. "Really? That's so cliche. How about - moist."
"Yeah, because that's so much better."
"You know, sarcasm isn't becoming on you."
"What about humor?"
"Nah. I prefer cruelty."
"Goody. Should we start the spanking?"
You laughed, and continued writing.
"Ok. How does this sound?
He kissed her thighs; she could feel her pubic hair touching his forehead. That night they played a game: the entwining of the bodies. They drank the moist sweat from each other's skin. He fell asleep with the taste of her breasts on his tongue, and her hand between his thighs.
How's that?"
"Awful. Just awful." He was laughing so hard, it was difficult to speak.
"Well at least it fulfills the terms of the assignment."
She threw a pillow at him. He marched over to the bed and took off her skirt with his right hand, pinning her wrist down to the sheets with his left. He kissed her on the lips, then on the ear. She giggled. They spent the night engaged in the twining and untwining of their bodies. He kissed her thighs; she could feel her pubic hair touching his forehead. He fell asleep as the sun was rising, with the taste of her breasts on his tongue, and her hand between his thighs.
Based on Jeremiah 22, listening to David Broza, likely influenced by stuff I've read on Jewrotica (yes that's a real - and a recommended - website).
"Take off your rags", he said.
The fireplace sent shadows raging across his black beard, and his green eyes glowered.
She shivered as she crawled out of the grey, her eyes scanning the mat that lay by the floor.
"Is this how you thought I would repay you? Do I not mete out mercy for mercy, kindness for kindness?"
She placed her palms between her legs, and blushed.
"Will you not face me?"
"And show you things I'd rather you not see?"
"Yet nothing I haven't seen before."
His voice grew gentle. "Come here."
She stepped away from the warmth. She could feel the chill of his fingers upon her cheeks.
"You're cold", she said.
"Shall I ring the butler for a cup of coffee?"
She shook her head.
"Now let's discuss your punishment."
He ran his fingers over her shoulders.
"You loved me once."
"And I still do."
She wanted to laugh, but the sound got stuck in her throat.
He smiled.
"I know that sound", he said.
She tried not to cry.
"Now take your medicine".
She felt his palm against her tears, the black silk against her lips. She stood still as he let the leather roam the length and breadth of her back and thighs. He kissed her shoulders, working his way up to her neck. "I forgive you", he whispered. She felt the black silk being unbound from her mouth, and the blood dripping down her body.
He kissed each wound as he cleansed it. She felt the sting of peroxyde, followed by the dryness of cotton gauze. She curled up on the mat by the fireplace as he drew her a bath. Then he soaped each part of her body. "You've been purified", he said, before drying her with a white towel, and clothing her in garments of royal purple that matched his own robes. First he helped her into cotton underwear, then into a silk dress that hugged her body.
"Now you have truly earned these", he said, planting a kiss on her cheek.
She turned his face towards her and drank in his lips. "Now that I've gotten you dressed in these clothes, what do you say I take you to my bedroom and get you out of them?", he asked.
Her laughter signalled her assent as he took her hand, and marvelled at the beautiful woman who stood beside him.
The fireplace sent shadows raging across his black beard, and his green eyes glowered.
She shivered as she crawled out of the grey, her eyes scanning the mat that lay by the floor.
"Is this how you thought I would repay you? Do I not mete out mercy for mercy, kindness for kindness?"
She placed her palms between her legs, and blushed.
"Will you not face me?"
"And show you things I'd rather you not see?"
"Yet nothing I haven't seen before."
His voice grew gentle. "Come here."
She stepped away from the warmth. She could feel the chill of his fingers upon her cheeks.
"You're cold", she said.
"Shall I ring the butler for a cup of coffee?"
She shook her head.
"Now let's discuss your punishment."
He ran his fingers over her shoulders.
"You loved me once."
"And I still do."
She wanted to laugh, but the sound got stuck in her throat.
He smiled.
"I know that sound", he said.
She tried not to cry.
"Now take your medicine".
She felt his palm against her tears, the black silk against her lips. She stood still as he let the leather roam the length and breadth of her back and thighs. He kissed her shoulders, working his way up to her neck. "I forgive you", he whispered. She felt the black silk being unbound from her mouth, and the blood dripping down her body.
He kissed each wound as he cleansed it. She felt the sting of peroxyde, followed by the dryness of cotton gauze. She curled up on the mat by the fireplace as he drew her a bath. Then he soaped each part of her body. "You've been purified", he said, before drying her with a white towel, and clothing her in garments of royal purple that matched his own robes. First he helped her into cotton underwear, then into a silk dress that hugged her body.
"Now you have truly earned these", he said, planting a kiss on her cheek.
She turned his face towards her and drank in his lips. "Now that I've gotten you dressed in these clothes, what do you say I take you to my bedroom and get you out of them?", he asked.
Her laughter signalled her assent as he took her hand, and marvelled at the beautiful woman who stood beside him.
I wish
I wish I still loved you enough to cry.
I run my fingers down your spine; the moon is reflected on the pale sheets. I knew I should have bought that book of poetry - now I have only a novel and a Tanach for company - and you, of course.
I felt like Eve, the first time I kissed you and took you to my bed. I let you taste my lips, but I would not give you of the forbidden fruit.
I hate myself for sounding so cliche.
Leonard Cohen music plays in the background; I feel your lips on my thigh, and know that I will drown my loneliness in the caresses of air upon my body in the morning, right before I have my cup of coffee.
Did I leave you or did you leave me?
I suppose it doesn't matter now - here, between these sheets.
I wish I still loved you enough to cry.
I run my fingers down your spine; the moon is reflected on the pale sheets. I knew I should have bought that book of poetry - now I have only a novel and a Tanach for company - and you, of course.
I felt like Eve, the first time I kissed you and took you to my bed. I let you taste my lips, but I would not give you of the forbidden fruit.
I hate myself for sounding so cliche.
Leonard Cohen music plays in the background; I feel your lips on my thigh, and know that I will drown my loneliness in the caresses of air upon my body in the morning, right before I have my cup of coffee.
Did I leave you or did you leave me?
I suppose it doesn't matter now - here, between these sheets.
I wish I still loved you enough to cry.
Diary Entry: Writing To Music (Exercise Introduced to me by my 6th grade teacher, Mr. Larry Sandomir)
I want so badly to be someone, to do something other than to sit here, missing you. I knew I should have bought that book of poetry, sprung for the 45 shekels. Instead I sit here, with only a novel and Tanach for company. Tanach is my favorite book, but it forces me to face myself - and I don't feel ready to do that, quite yet. I wish that you were here, that I could kiss and take you to my bed. I long to feel the curves of your body fitting in and out of mine like pieces in a puzzle. I hate myself for sounding so cliche. Leonard Cohen is singing about a gypsy wife, and I wish I felt beautiful enough to care - or at least that it was warm enough to take my clothes off, so I could drown my loneliness in the caresses of air upon my body.
Did I leave you or did you leave me? Does it matter?
I wish I still loved you enough to cry.
Did I leave you or did you leave me? Does it matter?
I wish I still loved you enough to cry.
Purim Spiel, Part 5
Int. Kitchen, Israel - Day.
Ehud and Lally are having coffee.
Ehud
למה באת?
Lally
לעשות ניחום אבלים.
Lally takes a sip of coffee.
לא רציתי לשלח אותה לבד.
Ehud
למה ? כי זה התנחלות?
Lally
לא. כי זב בית שיבה.
(Beat.)
כל אחד מתאבל בצורה אחרת
Ehud
אך אני לא מתאבל - זה מה שמפריע לי -אני לא מרגיש - אני לא מרגיש כלום.
Lally gets up and puts her hands on Ehud's chest.
Ehud
מה את עושה?
Lally
אני נותנת לך את המרץ החיובי שלי.
Ehud
מה? עכשיו גם את עושה סמים?
Lally
אל תצחק.
(Beat.)
Ehud crumples into her arms, crying.
Ext. Porch, Israel - Night.
Sarah is smoking a cigarette. Ilana comes out. They share a cigarette in silence.
Ext. House, Israel, Day.
A cab is waiting. The entire family is gathered outside. They all exchange hugs with Sarah, but not with Lally, who only exchanges hugs with Ehud. Ehud carries the luggage to the cab. The rest of the family goes back inside, leaving Sarah and Lally to wait by themselves while the cab-driver helps Ehud load the bags. Once the bags are loaded, the cab-driver gets inside the cab. Ehud holds the door open for Lally and Sarah. He hugs Sarah. She gets in, leaving Ehud and Lally together.
Ehud
נסיעה טובה.
Lally
אולי תבא לבקר.
Ehud
חשבת שבגלל מה שקרה, אני אחזור אלייך, ופתעום הכל יהיה מושלם, כמו באיזה מין סרט הוליווד כזה?
Lally
לא. חשבתי שזה יהי כמו "פורים שפייל" - חלום מתורף, שנעלם למקום האשליות.
(She gets into the car.)
אך קיויתי שטעיתי.
She slams the door. The car drives away.
Ext. Zenut Rehabilitation Facility, New York- Day.
Lally and Sarah walk into the lobby. Music is playing. The patients are performing a congo line around the nurse's station.
Sarah
Mom, I think I might need rehab.
Lally
כוסאמק!
(Beat.)
For once I wanted to be able to lord it over your grandmother that I was having sex while she wasn't!
Sarah
(brightly)
Maybe she didn't have sex.
Lally looks at her.
Sarah
(defensively)
Well, its possible.
Lally
She's in room 105.
They look for the room and enter.
Nanny, dressed as a chassidic rebbe, with a hat and false beard, is straddling Enrique, the male orderly, who is on his back. He is dressed in bridal clothes. Nanny holds the same toy whip in her hand.
Nanny
You've been a bad Jew, Enrique. A very bad Jew.
She whips him. In the middle, she looks up and sees Sarah and Lally.
Nanny
What? We're just getting ready for Yom Kippur.
Beat.
Blackout.
Ehud and Lally are having coffee.
Ehud
למה באת?
Lally
לעשות ניחום אבלים.
Lally takes a sip of coffee.
לא רציתי לשלח אותה לבד.
Ehud
למה ? כי זה התנחלות?
Lally
לא. כי זב בית שיבה.
(Beat.)
כל אחד מתאבל בצורה אחרת
Ehud
אך אני לא מתאבל - זה מה שמפריע לי -אני לא מרגיש - אני לא מרגיש כלום.
Lally gets up and puts her hands on Ehud's chest.
Ehud
מה את עושה?
Lally
אני נותנת לך את המרץ החיובי שלי.
Ehud
מה? עכשיו גם את עושה סמים?
Lally
אל תצחק.
(Beat.)
Ehud crumples into her arms, crying.
Ext. Porch, Israel - Night.
Sarah is smoking a cigarette. Ilana comes out. They share a cigarette in silence.
Ext. House, Israel, Day.
A cab is waiting. The entire family is gathered outside. They all exchange hugs with Sarah, but not with Lally, who only exchanges hugs with Ehud. Ehud carries the luggage to the cab. The rest of the family goes back inside, leaving Sarah and Lally to wait by themselves while the cab-driver helps Ehud load the bags. Once the bags are loaded, the cab-driver gets inside the cab. Ehud holds the door open for Lally and Sarah. He hugs Sarah. She gets in, leaving Ehud and Lally together.
Ehud
נסיעה טובה.
Lally
אולי תבא לבקר.
Ehud
חשבת שבגלל מה שקרה, אני אחזור אלייך, ופתעום הכל יהיה מושלם, כמו באיזה מין סרט הוליווד כזה?
Lally
לא. חשבתי שזה יהי כמו "פורים שפייל" - חלום מתורף, שנעלם למקום האשליות.
(She gets into the car.)
אך קיויתי שטעיתי.
She slams the door. The car drives away.
Ext. Zenut Rehabilitation Facility, New York- Day.
Lally and Sarah walk into the lobby. Music is playing. The patients are performing a congo line around the nurse's station.
Sarah
Mom, I think I might need rehab.
Lally
כוסאמק!
(Beat.)
For once I wanted to be able to lord it over your grandmother that I was having sex while she wasn't!
Sarah
(brightly)
Maybe she didn't have sex.
Lally looks at her.
Sarah
(defensively)
Well, its possible.
Lally
She's in room 105.
They look for the room and enter.
Nanny, dressed as a chassidic rebbe, with a hat and false beard, is straddling Enrique, the male orderly, who is on his back. He is dressed in bridal clothes. Nanny holds the same toy whip in her hand.
Nanny
You've been a bad Jew, Enrique. A very bad Jew.
She whips him. In the middle, she looks up and sees Sarah and Lally.
Nanny
What? We're just getting ready for Yom Kippur.
Beat.
Blackout.
Purim Spiel, Part 4
Int. Zenut Rehabilitation Facility Lobby, Nurses' Station Area, New York - Day.
Dance music is playing; laughter can be heard from another room.
Phone rings. Nurse Lola picks up.
Lola
Hello.
(Beat.)
Ms. Anavian. Calling from Israel.
(Beat.)
Oh. I'm sorry to hear that.
(Beat.)
Wait one moment, I'll go see if she's available.
Lola puts down the receiver, walks toward the room from which the laughter is emanating. She opens the door. People, in various states of unattire dance to pop music. Nanny rides a handsome orderly, Enrique, in his mid-40s. She is whipping him with a toy whip and laughing.
Lola closes the door, walks back and picks up the telephone.
Lola
I'm sorry Ms. Annavian, your mother can't come to the phone right now. But I assure you she's drug free and very happy.
(Beat.)
Multiple orgasms? What? Beat.
She hangs up the phone.
Other Nurse at the Nurse's Station
What is it Lola?
Lola
I don't know. The reception must have gone bad. I kept on hearing something about multiple orgasms.
Int. Hallway next to Bathroom, Israel - Day.
The shower can be heard, along with Lally singing. Ehud is standing outside the bathroom door.
Ehud
פתחי, נו! אני נשבע, עוד שניה ואני משתין על הרצפה - אל תהי אכזרית, נו! ללוש! אני סופר עד שלוש, ואז אני מכנס. אחת, שתיים, שלוש.
Ehud waits a second.
Ehud
שייט!
He opens the door and enters, closing the door behind him. He can hear - but not see - Lally singing. He pees. As he is finishing, Lally steps out of the shower and begins to scream. Ehud puts a hand to her mouth.
Ehud
שש! לא שמעת כשדפקתי מיליון פעמים?
He lets go.
Lally
לא. מה אתה עושה פה?
Ehud
הצתרכתי לפיפי.
(Beat.)
למה יצאת?
Lally
הצתרכתי לפיפי.
Ehud laughs.
Lally
נו, אל תצחק. זה דחוף.
Ehud
בבקשה, מדם.
Lally
תסתלק מפה.
There is a knock on the door.
Female Voice
יש מישהוא פה?
Lally
כן.
In quick pantomime: Lally: Go in the shower. Ehud: Are you crazy? Let me leave. Lally: No'! She'll see you. Get in the shower. NOW.
He gets in the shower. She pees, flushes, washes her hands, gets back in the shower, leaving the shower curtain ajar.
Ehud
כמעט שכחתי כמה את יפה.
They kiss.
Lally
מה אתה עושה? זה אסור….
Ehud
הִנָּךְ יָפָה רַעְיָתִי, הִנָּךְ יָפָה עֵינַיִךְ יוֹנִים*
Lally
הנך יפה דודי אף נעיםפ
They kiss.
Ehud
כְּמִגְדַּל דָּוִיד צַוָּארֵךְ, בָּנוּי לְתַלְפִּיּוֹת;
(He kisses her neck)
שְׁנֵי שָׁדַיִךְ כִּשְׁנֵי עֳפָרִים,
(He kisses her breasts)
They begin to kiss passionately, etc. A woman walks in and screams. They pull apart.
Lally
מה? באתי פה לעשות ניחום אבילים.
The woman walks out, slamming the door.
Ehud
שייט. היא חבירה של האמא שלי.
Lally jumps out of the shower and wraps herself in a towel.
Ehud
לאן את הולכת?
Lally
להתלבש. אני לא רוצה להיות ערומה כשהאמא שלך מגרשת אותי.
Lally runs out, leaving the door ajar. Ehud, stunned for a minute, walks after her. He knocks on the door.
Ehud
Lally? Lally!
He opens the door. Lally is lying on the bed, wrapped in a towel, crying. Ehud sits down and strokes her hair.
Lally
באתי לנחם אותך, ועכשיו אתה מנחם אותי.
Sarah walks in.
Sarah
If you came here to fuck Abba, why didn't you just say so?
She runs out of the room.
Int. Kitchen, Day.
Ehud and Sarah are sitting at a table, with mugs of coffee.
Ehud
Your mother didn't come here to fuck me. Trust me - do you know how many times I tried to fuck her in New York and she refused?
Sarah
Eugh! Abbah!
Ehud
What? You can't have it both ways - being a big girl and a little girl at the same time. You asked tough questions, and I'm answering you.
(He takes a sip of coffee.)
Do you remember the time you asked your mother what sex was and she told you to call me?
(Sarah laughs.)
That was her way of getting revenge.
Sarah
Revenge for what?
Ehud
For hitting on her, that night at the Plaza.
Sarah takes a sip of coffee.
Sarah
You still love her, don't you?
Ehud keeps on drinking his coffee.
Dance music is playing; laughter can be heard from another room.
Phone rings. Nurse Lola picks up.
Lola
Hello.
(Beat.)
Ms. Anavian. Calling from Israel.
(Beat.)
Oh. I'm sorry to hear that.
(Beat.)
Wait one moment, I'll go see if she's available.
Lola puts down the receiver, walks toward the room from which the laughter is emanating. She opens the door. People, in various states of unattire dance to pop music. Nanny rides a handsome orderly, Enrique, in his mid-40s. She is whipping him with a toy whip and laughing.
Lola closes the door, walks back and picks up the telephone.
Lola
I'm sorry Ms. Annavian, your mother can't come to the phone right now. But I assure you she's drug free and very happy.
(Beat.)
Multiple orgasms? What? Beat.
She hangs up the phone.
Other Nurse at the Nurse's Station
What is it Lola?
Lola
I don't know. The reception must have gone bad. I kept on hearing something about multiple orgasms.
Int. Hallway next to Bathroom, Israel - Day.
The shower can be heard, along with Lally singing. Ehud is standing outside the bathroom door.
Ehud
פתחי, נו! אני נשבע, עוד שניה ואני משתין על הרצפה - אל תהי אכזרית, נו! ללוש! אני סופר עד שלוש, ואז אני מכנס. אחת, שתיים, שלוש.
Ehud waits a second.
Ehud
שייט!
He opens the door and enters, closing the door behind him. He can hear - but not see - Lally singing. He pees. As he is finishing, Lally steps out of the shower and begins to scream. Ehud puts a hand to her mouth.
Ehud
שש! לא שמעת כשדפקתי מיליון פעמים?
He lets go.
Lally
לא. מה אתה עושה פה?
Ehud
הצתרכתי לפיפי.
(Beat.)
למה יצאת?
Lally
הצתרכתי לפיפי.
Ehud laughs.
Lally
נו, אל תצחק. זה דחוף.
Ehud
בבקשה, מדם.
Lally
תסתלק מפה.
There is a knock on the door.
Female Voice
יש מישהוא פה?
Lally
כן.
In quick pantomime: Lally: Go in the shower. Ehud: Are you crazy? Let me leave. Lally: No'! She'll see you. Get in the shower. NOW.
He gets in the shower. She pees, flushes, washes her hands, gets back in the shower, leaving the shower curtain ajar.
Ehud
כמעט שכחתי כמה את יפה.
They kiss.
Lally
מה אתה עושה? זה אסור….
Ehud
הִנָּךְ יָפָה רַעְיָתִי, הִנָּךְ יָפָה עֵינַיִךְ יוֹנִים*
Lally
הנך יפה דודי אף נעיםפ
They kiss.
Ehud
כְּמִגְדַּל דָּוִיד צַוָּארֵךְ, בָּנוּי לְתַלְפִּיּוֹת;
(He kisses her neck)
שְׁנֵי שָׁדַיִךְ כִּשְׁנֵי עֳפָרִים,
(He kisses her breasts)
They begin to kiss passionately, etc. A woman walks in and screams. They pull apart.
Lally
מה? באתי פה לעשות ניחום אבילים.
The woman walks out, slamming the door.
Ehud
שייט. היא חבירה של האמא שלי.
Lally jumps out of the shower and wraps herself in a towel.
Ehud
לאן את הולכת?
Lally
להתלבש. אני לא רוצה להיות ערומה כשהאמא שלך מגרשת אותי.
Lally runs out, leaving the door ajar. Ehud, stunned for a minute, walks after her. He knocks on the door.
Ehud
Lally? Lally!
He opens the door. Lally is lying on the bed, wrapped in a towel, crying. Ehud sits down and strokes her hair.
Lally
באתי לנחם אותך, ועכשיו אתה מנחם אותי.
Sarah walks in.
Sarah
If you came here to fuck Abba, why didn't you just say so?
She runs out of the room.
Int. Kitchen, Day.
Ehud and Sarah are sitting at a table, with mugs of coffee.
Ehud
Your mother didn't come here to fuck me. Trust me - do you know how many times I tried to fuck her in New York and she refused?
Sarah
Eugh! Abbah!
Ehud
What? You can't have it both ways - being a big girl and a little girl at the same time. You asked tough questions, and I'm answering you.
(He takes a sip of coffee.)
Do you remember the time you asked your mother what sex was and she told you to call me?
(Sarah laughs.)
That was her way of getting revenge.
Sarah
Revenge for what?
Ehud
For hitting on her, that night at the Plaza.
Sarah takes a sip of coffee.
Sarah
You still love her, don't you?
Ehud keeps on drinking his coffee.
Purim Spiel, Part 3
Cut to: Int. Kitchen. Night.
Lally and Ehud are sitting at the kitchen, drinking tea.
Lally*4
אז סןף-סוף שכניתה את אביך לנסע לפגישה שמאלנית?
Ehud
כן, מלא אנטשמים והכל. בפגישה הבאה אנחנו מציגים את היטלר.
Lally
חשבתי שהוא מת.
Ehud
אז נעשה סאנס.
Lally laughs.
Cut to: Ext. Porch -Same.
Close-up of different angles of different body-parts of Sarah and Ilana making out.
Cut to: Int. Bedroom - Same.
Moshe, sits in his bedroom, looking over the porch with a pair of black binoculars.
Cut to: Int. Kitchen - Same.
Lally*5
זה לא עשמאותך, אהוד.
Ehud
אז של מי?
Lally
של אף אחד .
Ehud shakes his head with a sardonic smile.
Ehud
של אף אחד.
Lally
כן. של אף אחד.
She hugs him. They hold each other.
Int. Moshe's Bedroom, Same.
As the door opens, Moshe scrambles to hide his binoculars before Ilana walks in. Ilana, her hair and clothing ruffled, kisses Moshe.
Moshe
What was that for?
Ilana
I don't know.
She keeps kissing him. He responds.
Int. Moshe's Bedroom, Night.
Moshe and Ilana lie wrapped around each other, covered only by a blanket. Moshe kisses Ilana's shoulder.
Beat.
Moshe
Do you want a divorce?
ILANA
I don’t know. Do you?
MOSHE
I don’t know.
ILANA
I’ll be right back I -
MOSHE
Need another cup of tea?
ILANA
No. I have to pee.
They laugh.
Lally and Ehud are sitting at the kitchen, drinking tea.
Lally*4
אז סןף-סוף שכניתה את אביך לנסע לפגישה שמאלנית?
Ehud
כן, מלא אנטשמים והכל. בפגישה הבאה אנחנו מציגים את היטלר.
Lally
חשבתי שהוא מת.
Ehud
אז נעשה סאנס.
Lally laughs.
Cut to: Ext. Porch -Same.
Close-up of different angles of different body-parts of Sarah and Ilana making out.
Cut to: Int. Bedroom - Same.
Moshe, sits in his bedroom, looking over the porch with a pair of black binoculars.
Cut to: Int. Kitchen - Same.
Lally*5
זה לא עשמאותך, אהוד.
Ehud
אז של מי?
Lally
של אף אחד .
Ehud shakes his head with a sardonic smile.
Ehud
של אף אחד.
Lally
כן. של אף אחד.
She hugs him. They hold each other.
Int. Moshe's Bedroom, Same.
As the door opens, Moshe scrambles to hide his binoculars before Ilana walks in. Ilana, her hair and clothing ruffled, kisses Moshe.
Moshe
What was that for?
Ilana
I don't know.
She keeps kissing him. He responds.
Int. Moshe's Bedroom, Night.
Moshe and Ilana lie wrapped around each other, covered only by a blanket. Moshe kisses Ilana's shoulder.
Beat.
Moshe
Do you want a divorce?
ILANA
I don’t know. Do you?
MOSHE
I don’t know.
ILANA
I’ll be right back I -
MOSHE
Need another cup of tea?
ILANA
No. I have to pee.
They laugh.
Purim Spiel, Part 2
Cut to: Int. Shiva House Living Room, Israel - Day.
Ehud, handsome, in his late 30s, with wavy brown hair, sits on a low stool next to his older brother, Moshe, in his early 40s, and his mother Tali, in her early 60s, who is wearing a kerchief around her hair in the fashion common among religious Israeli Jewish women. Ilana, American, early 30s, Moshe's wife, sits next to him. She covers her hair in the Jewish Orthodox fashion. From the way she is interacting with him, it is clear they are romantically involved. The family is surrounded by visitors. All the men are wearing yarmulkas.
A large family picture hangs on the wall.
When Lally and Sarah walk in, there is a hush in the room. Lally nudges Sarah toward Ehud. She hugs him.
Lally walks over to Tali.
Lally*1
המקום ינחם אותך בתוך שער אבלי ציון וירושלים.
Tali
אני מצטערת שזה לקח מוות לגרום לך להביא את נחדי לביתי.
Lally
זאת היתה הברירה שלה, לא שלי.
Same - Same
The family, including Lally and Sarah, are sitting, surrounded by visitor.
Man*2
שחר היה צדיק, ממש צדיק. מסירותו לעם היהודי, לארץ שלנו - פשש! חבל על הזמן. לא כמו השמאלנים האלו, המשטמתים. פתירתו היא טרגדיה לכל קהילות ישע.
Ehud clenches his fist. Lally notices, places her hand on his. He starts. Sarah looks up from her book.
Man
המקום ינחם אותכם בתוך שער אבלי ציון וירושלים.
Lally
אמן.
She nudges Sarah.
Sarah
אמן.
Int. Empty Living Room Israel-Night.
Tali, Ehud and Sarah are the only ones sitting there.
Tali
I don't think anyone else is coming. I'm going to bed.
She leaves.
Ehud
Maybe you should get to bed. You've had a long day.
Sarah
You've had a long day too.
Ehud
I didn't travel 6,000 miles with your mother.
Sarah
She's not so bad.
Ehud
Did I say she was bad? I said she was tiring. There's a difference.
(Beat.)
So, is your grandmother still addicted to cocaine?
Sarah
You knew about that!
Ehud
Of course! She was already an addict when your mother and I got married. I remember, she got high at the wedding. We were afraid the rabbi would find out, so your mother kept your grandmother locked in a closet until five minutes before the ceremony.
Sarah
She did that?
Ehud
You know your mother when she wants her way.
(Beat. Ehud looks dreamy.)
Sarah
What are you thinking of?
Ehud
I don't think you want to know.
Sarah
Yes I do.
Ehud
To keep your grandmother in the closet, your mother borrowed this black silk scarf from a friend. I was thinking of the fun we had with the scarf after the wedding.
Sarah
Eugh!
Ehud
(Shrugs)
Well, you said you wanted to know.
Sarah
But only because I didn't know what you were going to say!
Ehud
Speaking of knowing, why do I know so little about your boyfriend?
Sarah
Mom mentioned him?!
Ehud
She said he wears leather.
Sarah
I'm beginning to think Mom is a perv.
Ehud
I know she is.
(Beat.)
Sarah
Do you ever wonder if she's still in love with you?
Ehud looks at her.
Sarah
Well, she never really had any serious boyfriends.
Ehud
Go to bed.
He kisses her on top of the head and walks out. When he gets upstairs, Lally is standing outside a door, from which Moshe and Ilana's voices can be heard screaming.
Ehud*3
אפה האום כשצריכים אותם? בן-זונות.
Lally
לא צריכים אותם. יש רק דרך אחת לעשות שלום.
(Beat(
מין.
Ehud laughs.
Lally
ברצינות - אם כל הישראלים היו מזדינים את כל הפליסתינאים…
INT. VILLA BEDROOM - NIGHT
In bed, Ilana and Moshe face away from each other. Moshe turns over and puts his arm around Ilana. She does not respond. He kisses the side of her neck. She gets up.
ILANA
I’m going downstairs for a cup of tea.
Ext. Porch. - Night
Sarah is standing, taking in the panoramic view: red roofed villas with blooming back yards and caravans, surrounded by Judean hills dotted with olive trees. Ilana enters.
Ilana
So what do you think?
Sarah
It's beautiful here.
(Beat.)
In there its a nuthouse.
Ilana
Yeah. Your parents are crazy
Sarah
Tell me about it.
They both laugh. Ilana puts her arms around Sarah, then pulls back. Awkward silence.
Sarah
Are you glad you moved here?
Ilana
Sometimes.
(Beat.)
You disagree with us, don't you?
Sarah
This land belongs to the Palestinians.
ILANA
When your grandparents came, there were no Palestinians - there weren’t even any trees.
Sarah
But they chose the land so the Palestinian village nearby wouldn’t become part of a Palestinian state.
ILANA
Most Palestinians support terror even after a Palestinian state. Giving them land proves terror is working. Besides, this land was promised to us by God.
Sarah
Do you believe in him?
Long silence.
Sarah slowly takes out a cigarette, begins to smoke.
Ilana
Since when do nice American girls smoke?
Sarah
What makes you think I'm a nice American girl?
(Beat. )
Ilana walks over, and takes a drag on Sarah's cigarette. They kiss. Ilana stars playing with Sarah's breasts.
Ehud, handsome, in his late 30s, with wavy brown hair, sits on a low stool next to his older brother, Moshe, in his early 40s, and his mother Tali, in her early 60s, who is wearing a kerchief around her hair in the fashion common among religious Israeli Jewish women. Ilana, American, early 30s, Moshe's wife, sits next to him. She covers her hair in the Jewish Orthodox fashion. From the way she is interacting with him, it is clear they are romantically involved. The family is surrounded by visitors. All the men are wearing yarmulkas.
A large family picture hangs on the wall.
When Lally and Sarah walk in, there is a hush in the room. Lally nudges Sarah toward Ehud. She hugs him.
Lally walks over to Tali.
Lally*1
המקום ינחם אותך בתוך שער אבלי ציון וירושלים.
Tali
אני מצטערת שזה לקח מוות לגרום לך להביא את נחדי לביתי.
Lally
זאת היתה הברירה שלה, לא שלי.
Same - Same
The family, including Lally and Sarah, are sitting, surrounded by visitor.
Man*2
שחר היה צדיק, ממש צדיק. מסירותו לעם היהודי, לארץ שלנו - פשש! חבל על הזמן. לא כמו השמאלנים האלו, המשטמתים. פתירתו היא טרגדיה לכל קהילות ישע.
Ehud clenches his fist. Lally notices, places her hand on his. He starts. Sarah looks up from her book.
Man
המקום ינחם אותכם בתוך שער אבלי ציון וירושלים.
Lally
אמן.
She nudges Sarah.
Sarah
אמן.
Int. Empty Living Room Israel-Night.
Tali, Ehud and Sarah are the only ones sitting there.
Tali
I don't think anyone else is coming. I'm going to bed.
She leaves.
Ehud
Maybe you should get to bed. You've had a long day.
Sarah
You've had a long day too.
Ehud
I didn't travel 6,000 miles with your mother.
Sarah
She's not so bad.
Ehud
Did I say she was bad? I said she was tiring. There's a difference.
(Beat.)
So, is your grandmother still addicted to cocaine?
Sarah
You knew about that!
Ehud
Of course! She was already an addict when your mother and I got married. I remember, she got high at the wedding. We were afraid the rabbi would find out, so your mother kept your grandmother locked in a closet until five minutes before the ceremony.
Sarah
She did that?
Ehud
You know your mother when she wants her way.
(Beat. Ehud looks dreamy.)
Sarah
What are you thinking of?
Ehud
I don't think you want to know.
Sarah
Yes I do.
Ehud
To keep your grandmother in the closet, your mother borrowed this black silk scarf from a friend. I was thinking of the fun we had with the scarf after the wedding.
Sarah
Eugh!
Ehud
(Shrugs)
Well, you said you wanted to know.
Sarah
But only because I didn't know what you were going to say!
Ehud
Speaking of knowing, why do I know so little about your boyfriend?
Sarah
Mom mentioned him?!
Ehud
She said he wears leather.
Sarah
I'm beginning to think Mom is a perv.
Ehud
I know she is.
(Beat.)
Sarah
Do you ever wonder if she's still in love with you?
Ehud looks at her.
Sarah
Well, she never really had any serious boyfriends.
Ehud
Go to bed.
He kisses her on top of the head and walks out. When he gets upstairs, Lally is standing outside a door, from which Moshe and Ilana's voices can be heard screaming.
Ehud*3
אפה האום כשצריכים אותם? בן-זונות.
Lally
לא צריכים אותם. יש רק דרך אחת לעשות שלום.
(Beat(
מין.
Ehud laughs.
Lally
ברצינות - אם כל הישראלים היו מזדינים את כל הפליסתינאים…
INT. VILLA BEDROOM - NIGHT
In bed, Ilana and Moshe face away from each other. Moshe turns over and puts his arm around Ilana. She does not respond. He kisses the side of her neck. She gets up.
ILANA
I’m going downstairs for a cup of tea.
Ext. Porch. - Night
Sarah is standing, taking in the panoramic view: red roofed villas with blooming back yards and caravans, surrounded by Judean hills dotted with olive trees. Ilana enters.
Ilana
So what do you think?
Sarah
It's beautiful here.
(Beat.)
In there its a nuthouse.
Ilana
Yeah. Your parents are crazy
Sarah
Tell me about it.
They both laugh. Ilana puts her arms around Sarah, then pulls back. Awkward silence.
Sarah
Are you glad you moved here?
Ilana
Sometimes.
(Beat.)
You disagree with us, don't you?
Sarah
This land belongs to the Palestinians.
ILANA
When your grandparents came, there were no Palestinians - there weren’t even any trees.
Sarah
But they chose the land so the Palestinian village nearby wouldn’t become part of a Palestinian state.
ILANA
Most Palestinians support terror even after a Palestinian state. Giving them land proves terror is working. Besides, this land was promised to us by God.
Sarah
Do you believe in him?
Long silence.
Sarah slowly takes out a cigarette, begins to smoke.
Ilana
Since when do nice American girls smoke?
Sarah
What makes you think I'm a nice American girl?
(Beat. )
Ilana walks over, and takes a drag on Sarah's cigarette. They kiss. Ilana stars playing with Sarah's breasts.
Purim Spiel, Part 1
Int. Bedroom, New York -Late Afternoon.
Nanny, in her early 70s, is opening up drawers, looking for pills.
Lally's Voice, Off-Screen
Nanny!
Nanny
כוסאמק.
Nanny leaves, walks into the next room, the dining room. Lally, a beautiful woman in her late thirties, is standing there, next to Sarah, 16, dressed in punk-goth attire.
Lally
Do I smell cigarettes on your breath?
Sarah
No.
Lally
I smell cigarettes.
Sarah
That must be the after-scent from when I sucked my boyfriend's dick while you were at the cleaners. His sperm smells of cigarettes.
Lally
Nanny!
Nanny
What?
Lally
Did I not tell you to watch the girl while I was out?
Nanny
A girl 16 years old needs a babysitter?
Lally
A babysitter, maybe not, but a chaperone - yes, when Mr. Leather is involved.
Sarah
His name is Dave.
Lally
I know that מותק. But I'll start calling him by hist first name when he stops sucking my daughter's lips like a piece of fucking fruit.
(Goes to the stove, slams a dish down on the table.)
Dinner's served!
They eat in silence.
Nanny
Excuse me. I have to go to the bathroom.
Cut to: Int, Bathroom - Same
Nanny is going through pill bottles.
Nanny
Where is it? Where is it?
(Takes out a bottle labeled "birth control", and opens it. Some white powder spins out.)
Ahah!
She starts sniffing the cocaine.
Cut to: Dining Room - Same.
Dinner table. Sarah and Lally eat in silence.
Lally
What's taking so long?
(Beat.)
(Screaming)
Nanny, did you think the laxatives were Motrin again?
(To Sarah)
I swear that woman is senile!
(Screams)
Nanny!
Sarah
For God's sake mom, can't a person even take a shit in this house in peace?
(Beat.)
Lally
Oh my God! Where did you hide the cocaine?
Sarah
In my birth control bottle.
Lally
You're on birth control?
Sarah
Mom, I already told you - Dave and I are safe, ok?
Lally
Safety isn't just about birth control.
Sarah
(rolls her eyes)
I know, it's also about STDs.
Lally
STIs.
Sarah
What?
Lally
STIs. It's the new term. We use it down at the center. Anyhow, that's not the point - there's also emotional safety, security -
(There's a loud crash.)
Shit!
Cut to: Ext. - Ambulance riding through New York street, Early Evening.
Cut to: Int. - Emergency room, A few hours later.
Lally and Sarah ate seated on a bench. Dr. Smith, a handsome-ish man in his thirties walks in.
Dr. Smith
Hi. Mrs. Annavian?
Lally
Ms.
They shake hands.
Lally
And this is my beautiful daughter, Sarah.
They shake hands.
Dr. Smith
You're mother is going to be just fine.
(Beat.)
Uh, I am not sure how to say this but - it looks like your mother may have a cocaine addiction problem. You really should get her into rehab.
Sarah
We know. I hid her cocaine in the birth control bottle. The birth control bottle! What kind of a fucking 70-year-old goes looking in a birth control bottle?!
Lally
Sarah! Please, your language!
Dr. Smith
Addicts will look anywhere for drugs.
(Clears throat).
Here's a folder with rehab info. A social worker will call you tomorrow to discuss different options. If you'll excuse me, I have other patients to attend to.
They go in to a hospital room. Nanny is lying there, her eyes open.
Lally
You, my dear, are going to rehab.
Nanny
Just kill me, why don't you?
Lally
Don't tempt me. If that cocaine doesn't do it...
Nanny
Dying of cocaine is like dying of an orgasm. It's a good way to go.
(Beat.)
Not that you'd know.
Lally
Nanny!
Nanny
What? When's the last time you had sex? I'm telling you, you need to get some ass and get off hers.
(Gestures to Sarah)
Lally
(turns to Sarah)
You think I'm hard to put up with - you should have seen what it was like growing up with her!
Inside back seat of cab - New York - Night.
Sarah is resting with her head nestle against Lally's shoulder. Lally has her arm around Sarah.
Sarah
Since when do you think I'm beautiful?
Lally
Since always! Or you would be, if you didn't wear these weird earrings.
She starts playing with Sarah's ears.
Sarah
Stop!
Lally
What? What? Don't stop?
She starts tickling her. Sarah laughs.
Cut to: Ext., Zenut Rehabilitation Facility, New York - Day.
Cut to: Int. Lobby, Nurse's Station Area, Zenut Rehabilitation Facility - Same.
Nurse Lola
And our facilities are 100% kosher and sabbath observant.
Lally
I don't care about that religious crap. Just keep my mother away from cocaine, and if you can also keep her away from multiple orgasms, that would be good too.
Pan out to nurse's shocked face.
Int. Living Room, New York, Later that Day.
Sarah is doing homework. Lally walks in.
Lally
Turn on the news.
Sarah
What?
Lally
NOW.
Sarah turns on the news.
News Anchor
Today, more violence on the West Bank. Shachar Zehavi, a 75-year old man was killed on his way to attend a rabbinic conference on, ironically, peace and coexistence. Now, Mr. Zehavi was a resident of the controversial Beth Joshua settlement. Many diplomats think that settlements like Mr. Zehavi's are major setbacks to the peace process. Stay tuned. After the break, Professer Mantos from University of Maryland and Professor Joshua from Columbia will discuss today's attack and debate this controversial topic.
Sarah
Saba?
Lally
I have us booked on the ten o'clock plane.
Nanny, in her early 70s, is opening up drawers, looking for pills.
Lally's Voice, Off-Screen
Nanny!
Nanny
כוסאמק.
Nanny leaves, walks into the next room, the dining room. Lally, a beautiful woman in her late thirties, is standing there, next to Sarah, 16, dressed in punk-goth attire.
Lally
Do I smell cigarettes on your breath?
Sarah
No.
Lally
I smell cigarettes.
Sarah
That must be the after-scent from when I sucked my boyfriend's dick while you were at the cleaners. His sperm smells of cigarettes.
Lally
Nanny!
Nanny
What?
Lally
Did I not tell you to watch the girl while I was out?
Nanny
A girl 16 years old needs a babysitter?
Lally
A babysitter, maybe not, but a chaperone - yes, when Mr. Leather is involved.
Sarah
His name is Dave.
Lally
I know that מותק. But I'll start calling him by hist first name when he stops sucking my daughter's lips like a piece of fucking fruit.
(Goes to the stove, slams a dish down on the table.)
Dinner's served!
They eat in silence.
Nanny
Excuse me. I have to go to the bathroom.
Cut to: Int, Bathroom - Same
Nanny is going through pill bottles.
Nanny
Where is it? Where is it?
(Takes out a bottle labeled "birth control", and opens it. Some white powder spins out.)
Ahah!
She starts sniffing the cocaine.
Cut to: Dining Room - Same.
Dinner table. Sarah and Lally eat in silence.
Lally
What's taking so long?
(Beat.)
(Screaming)
Nanny, did you think the laxatives were Motrin again?
(To Sarah)
I swear that woman is senile!
(Screams)
Nanny!
Sarah
For God's sake mom, can't a person even take a shit in this house in peace?
(Beat.)
Lally
Oh my God! Where did you hide the cocaine?
Sarah
In my birth control bottle.
Lally
You're on birth control?
Sarah
Mom, I already told you - Dave and I are safe, ok?
Lally
Safety isn't just about birth control.
Sarah
(rolls her eyes)
I know, it's also about STDs.
Lally
STIs.
Sarah
What?
Lally
STIs. It's the new term. We use it down at the center. Anyhow, that's not the point - there's also emotional safety, security -
(There's a loud crash.)
Shit!
Cut to: Ext. - Ambulance riding through New York street, Early Evening.
Cut to: Int. - Emergency room, A few hours later.
Lally and Sarah ate seated on a bench. Dr. Smith, a handsome-ish man in his thirties walks in.
Dr. Smith
Hi. Mrs. Annavian?
Lally
Ms.
They shake hands.
Lally
And this is my beautiful daughter, Sarah.
They shake hands.
Dr. Smith
You're mother is going to be just fine.
(Beat.)
Uh, I am not sure how to say this but - it looks like your mother may have a cocaine addiction problem. You really should get her into rehab.
Sarah
We know. I hid her cocaine in the birth control bottle. The birth control bottle! What kind of a fucking 70-year-old goes looking in a birth control bottle?!
Lally
Sarah! Please, your language!
Dr. Smith
Addicts will look anywhere for drugs.
(Clears throat).
Here's a folder with rehab info. A social worker will call you tomorrow to discuss different options. If you'll excuse me, I have other patients to attend to.
They go in to a hospital room. Nanny is lying there, her eyes open.
Lally
You, my dear, are going to rehab.
Nanny
Just kill me, why don't you?
Lally
Don't tempt me. If that cocaine doesn't do it...
Nanny
Dying of cocaine is like dying of an orgasm. It's a good way to go.
(Beat.)
Not that you'd know.
Lally
Nanny!
Nanny
What? When's the last time you had sex? I'm telling you, you need to get some ass and get off hers.
(Gestures to Sarah)
Lally
(turns to Sarah)
You think I'm hard to put up with - you should have seen what it was like growing up with her!
Inside back seat of cab - New York - Night.
Sarah is resting with her head nestle against Lally's shoulder. Lally has her arm around Sarah.
Sarah
Since when do you think I'm beautiful?
Lally
Since always! Or you would be, if you didn't wear these weird earrings.
She starts playing with Sarah's ears.
Sarah
Stop!
Lally
What? What? Don't stop?
She starts tickling her. Sarah laughs.
Cut to: Ext., Zenut Rehabilitation Facility, New York - Day.
Cut to: Int. Lobby, Nurse's Station Area, Zenut Rehabilitation Facility - Same.
Nurse Lola
And our facilities are 100% kosher and sabbath observant.
Lally
I don't care about that religious crap. Just keep my mother away from cocaine, and if you can also keep her away from multiple orgasms, that would be good too.
Pan out to nurse's shocked face.
Int. Living Room, New York, Later that Day.
Sarah is doing homework. Lally walks in.
Lally
Turn on the news.
Sarah
What?
Lally
NOW.
Sarah turns on the news.
News Anchor
Today, more violence on the West Bank. Shachar Zehavi, a 75-year old man was killed on his way to attend a rabbinic conference on, ironically, peace and coexistence. Now, Mr. Zehavi was a resident of the controversial Beth Joshua settlement. Many diplomats think that settlements like Mr. Zehavi's are major setbacks to the peace process. Stay tuned. After the break, Professer Mantos from University of Maryland and Professor Joshua from Columbia will discuss today's attack and debate this controversial topic.
Sarah
Saba?
Lally
I have us booked on the ten o'clock plane.
Monday, November 12, 2012
Sarah and Ehud: Another Scene
"As long as you were productive, that's what matters."
Sarah laughed. "That's easy for you to say - my bills don't see it that way."
"You don't have to tell me about bills - I'm a starving grad student."
"But you're not starving now", she said, gesturing to the magnificent spread that lay across the red tablecloth.
"No, I'm not" Ehud said, and he kissed her.
Then the intifada came - right after Ehud had accepted a new job at a non-profit that protected the rights of Arabs living in Sheikh Jarach. Sarah was working as an English tutor while going for a bachelor's degree in comparative literature at Hebrew U, and Tammy had just turned two. The Israelis did not stop going out; they simply put out security guards, women allowing men with pistols to rifle through their tampons before they went to the club to find their latest lay. But Sarah was not Israeli - she was American, and she always would be. "I can't take this anymore, Ehud", she cried one night, after they found out their neighbor had just been killed in the Sbarros bombing on Jaffa street.
He laughed. "Don't be a drama-queen".
Sometimes at night, she hated them when she thought of her lost lover. She felt guilty afterwards: Not for the hate, but because the hatred was for her sex life, and not the hundreds killed. On nights like those, she would lift up her down comforter, and creep softly into Tammy's room, to check on her breathing. She would lay a finger to her cheek, and cry.
Then came the morning after: The struggle not to call him on the telephone. She won - most of the time.
"Why do you think we're still married"" he asked her one night.
It was late;Tammi lay in the room upstairs, as they sat in the lobby of the Plaza, drinking wine. Sarah had just shaved her legs; she could feel Ehud's eyes admiring their smoothness as the candles sent flames up and down her ankles. Her feet were killing her, but the black pumps had been worth it. The low-necked dress and diamond necklace made her feel conscious of her chest, and she wanted so much to reach out and place his hands (or better yet: his lips) on her breasts.
"I don't know", she said. She could hear the sound the white wine made as it slipped down her throat.
"Do you want a divorce?"
"No. Do you?"
"No."
He set down his glass and reached for her wrists.
"I don't want to lose you."
"Don't be a drama-queen."
He stopped; his fingers lay over her like a bracelet, until, slowly he unclasped her wrists. He got up without a word. She sat in the sleek black chair, sipping her wine, suddenly aware that her back hurt like hell. When she got back to the room, he was asleep, the white comforter pulled up to his shoulders. She felt under the blanket to see if he was wearing underwear. He was.
She sighed and walked over to the adjoining room, to check on Tammy. She put her finger to her cheek, then pulled off her shoes, dropping them by the bed on her way to the bathroom. The carpet muffled the noise, and Ehud continued sleeping. As she brushed her teeth, she wondered what she should wear to bed: She had not brought pajamas. By the time she re-entered the bedroom, she had already decided to sleep in her black dress, since she already knew she would send it to the cleaners tomorrow.
She got in gingerly, pulling the comforter up to her waist, and closed her eyes.
"My God", she thought, "what does it mean that I'm too tired to hate?"
On the other end of the bed, Ehud opened his eys, forced himself not to turn around, to unzip her dress and kiss her back. He felt her rustling in the sheets, and closed his eyes.
"Damn! Still asleep", she thought, before turning over again, to spend a night in restless contemplation.
Sarah laughed. "That's easy for you to say - my bills don't see it that way."
"You don't have to tell me about bills - I'm a starving grad student."
"But you're not starving now", she said, gesturing to the magnificent spread that lay across the red tablecloth.
"No, I'm not" Ehud said, and he kissed her.
Then the intifada came - right after Ehud had accepted a new job at a non-profit that protected the rights of Arabs living in Sheikh Jarach. Sarah was working as an English tutor while going for a bachelor's degree in comparative literature at Hebrew U, and Tammy had just turned two. The Israelis did not stop going out; they simply put out security guards, women allowing men with pistols to rifle through their tampons before they went to the club to find their latest lay. But Sarah was not Israeli - she was American, and she always would be. "I can't take this anymore, Ehud", she cried one night, after they found out their neighbor had just been killed in the Sbarros bombing on Jaffa street.
He laughed. "Don't be a drama-queen".
Sometimes at night, she hated them when she thought of her lost lover. She felt guilty afterwards: Not for the hate, but because the hatred was for her sex life, and not the hundreds killed. On nights like those, she would lift up her down comforter, and creep softly into Tammy's room, to check on her breathing. She would lay a finger to her cheek, and cry.
Then came the morning after: The struggle not to call him on the telephone. She won - most of the time.
"Why do you think we're still married"" he asked her one night.
It was late;Tammi lay in the room upstairs, as they sat in the lobby of the Plaza, drinking wine. Sarah had just shaved her legs; she could feel Ehud's eyes admiring their smoothness as the candles sent flames up and down her ankles. Her feet were killing her, but the black pumps had been worth it. The low-necked dress and diamond necklace made her feel conscious of her chest, and she wanted so much to reach out and place his hands (or better yet: his lips) on her breasts.
"I don't know", she said. She could hear the sound the white wine made as it slipped down her throat.
"Do you want a divorce?"
"No. Do you?"
"No."
He set down his glass and reached for her wrists.
"I don't want to lose you."
"Don't be a drama-queen."
He stopped; his fingers lay over her like a bracelet, until, slowly he unclasped her wrists. He got up without a word. She sat in the sleek black chair, sipping her wine, suddenly aware that her back hurt like hell. When she got back to the room, he was asleep, the white comforter pulled up to his shoulders. She felt under the blanket to see if he was wearing underwear. He was.
She sighed and walked over to the adjoining room, to check on Tammy. She put her finger to her cheek, then pulled off her shoes, dropping them by the bed on her way to the bathroom. The carpet muffled the noise, and Ehud continued sleeping. As she brushed her teeth, she wondered what she should wear to bed: She had not brought pajamas. By the time she re-entered the bedroom, she had already decided to sleep in her black dress, since she already knew she would send it to the cleaners tomorrow.
She got in gingerly, pulling the comforter up to her waist, and closed her eyes.
"My God", she thought, "what does it mean that I'm too tired to hate?"
On the other end of the bed, Ehud opened his eys, forced himself not to turn around, to unzip her dress and kiss her back. He felt her rustling in the sheets, and closed his eyes.
"Damn! Still asleep", she thought, before turning over again, to spend a night in restless contemplation.
Sunday, November 11, 2012
Vort
"Jealousy is an unflattering shade on anyone, but especially on you my
dear", he said, handing her a glass of wine. She laughed, her eyes still
focused on the happy couple that lay a few feet away, the man gently
tucking a strand of hair behind the woman's ear as she flashed a
diamond ring.
"Then get me something else to wear."
They sipped in silence.
"You've grown thorns", he said.
"Have I?"
"Yes. But the rose grows ever more beautiful."
He kissed her. His breath tasted of merlot mixed with saffron, and a little bit of sea-salt that remained on his tongue from the appetizers. "Not a bad vintage", she thought, as she sipped his lips.
"Then get me something else to wear."
They sipped in silence.
"You've grown thorns", he said.
"Have I?"
"Yes. But the rose grows ever more beautiful."
He kissed her. His breath tasted of merlot mixed with saffron, and a little bit of sea-salt that remained on his tongue from the appetizers. "Not a bad vintage", she thought, as she sipped his lips.
Ehud and Sarah: A scene
"You've grown afraid", he said.
"Does it matter?".
She took a drag on her cigarette. She could feel his thighs shifting beneath her knees.
"Have you been thinking about death again?"
"I always do."
"You think about death too much. That's your problem."
She took another drag. He could feel a slight tingling at the point where the backs of her knees touched his skin. She laughed.
"I'm waiting for you to tell me my lips taste like strawberries."
She wanted to kiss him, but she knew he hated her cigarette breath.
"I told you, I don't write poems anymore."
"Well you should".
She was not aware of her fingers crawling down his back. He laughed.
"How can I, when my muse is so far away?"
She took another drag.
"Do you fuck other women?"
He was silent. She got up, and walked towards the window. The sound of footsteps, and his body against her back. His arms reach for her breasts. She stands still, feeling the white curtains caress her cheeks, aiming her ashes out the window, towards the moonlight.
"I think you just killed a rose", he says, as they both look out over the garden. She laughs. He kisses her neck.
As their bodies weave in and out of each other, the word "love" never passes between them. But why does it hurt so much the next morning, when she leaves him behind - or is he the one leaving her? She holds her daughter's hand tighter as they turn the corner, knowing that she is the one thing that binds them together - or the one thing that tears them apart?
"Mommy, you're hurting me!"
"I'm sorry sweetheart. How would you like it if we stopped for donuts on the way home?"
Great, she thinks to herself, it's not even 7 am and I'm already breaking one of the rules in the parenting book. Ehud had bought it for her while she was pregnant, and they had mocked a different chapter everynight. "Great foreplay", she had teased him, when he triumphantly laid the book on her belly and proceeded to screw her on the couch. "So sexy. Next thing, you'll be bringing me Plato". "I'd rather bring you the Marquis de Sade", he said with a grin.
But of course, they had first bonded over their love of Rilke. He had been the starving grad student, she had been the waitress of the local cafe - like some sort of Hollywood movie. He came in while he was working on his thesis on poetry and peace. She was wandering aimlessly in her post-seminary years, having decided to stay in Israel, but not quite ready to move on to college. "You're too smart to be a waitress", he had said, and she had been too flattered to be offended. Growing up no one had ever expected her to be brilliant; as long as she got above the C-range, and was on home on Fridays in time to bake the challah, nobody really cared. She used to hang out with all the off-the-derech boys at night, smoking cigarettes and doing other things that tasted deliciously forbidden. But somehow, she could never get herself to have sex. It was the one halacha she just couldn't break, no matter how much the other girls teased her. By senior year, she had grown too resentful of their treating her like a baby because she was a virgin to stay friends with them, really, and then she had gone off to Israel and "straightened out".
He, on the other hand, had grown up in Efrat, the son of American parents, but Israeli in a way that she never could be, no matter what it said on her teudat zehut.
"Does it matter?".
She took a drag on her cigarette. She could feel his thighs shifting beneath her knees.
"Have you been thinking about death again?"
"I always do."
"You think about death too much. That's your problem."
She took another drag. He could feel a slight tingling at the point where the backs of her knees touched his skin. She laughed.
"I'm waiting for you to tell me my lips taste like strawberries."
She wanted to kiss him, but she knew he hated her cigarette breath.
"I told you, I don't write poems anymore."
"Well you should".
She was not aware of her fingers crawling down his back. He laughed.
"How can I, when my muse is so far away?"
She took another drag.
"Do you fuck other women?"
He was silent. She got up, and walked towards the window. The sound of footsteps, and his body against her back. His arms reach for her breasts. She stands still, feeling the white curtains caress her cheeks, aiming her ashes out the window, towards the moonlight.
"I think you just killed a rose", he says, as they both look out over the garden. She laughs. He kisses her neck.
As their bodies weave in and out of each other, the word "love" never passes between them. But why does it hurt so much the next morning, when she leaves him behind - or is he the one leaving her? She holds her daughter's hand tighter as they turn the corner, knowing that she is the one thing that binds them together - or the one thing that tears them apart?
"Mommy, you're hurting me!"
"I'm sorry sweetheart. How would you like it if we stopped for donuts on the way home?"
Great, she thinks to herself, it's not even 7 am and I'm already breaking one of the rules in the parenting book. Ehud had bought it for her while she was pregnant, and they had mocked a different chapter everynight. "Great foreplay", she had teased him, when he triumphantly laid the book on her belly and proceeded to screw her on the couch. "So sexy. Next thing, you'll be bringing me Plato". "I'd rather bring you the Marquis de Sade", he said with a grin.
But of course, they had first bonded over their love of Rilke. He had been the starving grad student, she had been the waitress of the local cafe - like some sort of Hollywood movie. He came in while he was working on his thesis on poetry and peace. She was wandering aimlessly in her post-seminary years, having decided to stay in Israel, but not quite ready to move on to college. "You're too smart to be a waitress", he had said, and she had been too flattered to be offended. Growing up no one had ever expected her to be brilliant; as long as she got above the C-range, and was on home on Fridays in time to bake the challah, nobody really cared. She used to hang out with all the off-the-derech boys at night, smoking cigarettes and doing other things that tasted deliciously forbidden. But somehow, she could never get herself to have sex. It was the one halacha she just couldn't break, no matter how much the other girls teased her. By senior year, she had grown too resentful of their treating her like a baby because she was a virgin to stay friends with them, really, and then she had gone off to Israel and "straightened out".
He, on the other hand, had grown up in Efrat, the son of American parents, but Israeli in a way that she never could be, no matter what it said on her teudat zehut.
Sunday, November 4, 2012
Jeremiah 21
"I have turned my face against you", he said.
I could see the flames' shadows flickering on the hollows of his cheeks. His blue caftan was too bright, somehow: I wanted to look away, but I was transfixed by the movement of dark and light playing on his face, the fire's dance reflected on his skin.
"You can't hurt me anymore", I said.
We both knew it was a lie, like the lace coverlet that hid the flaws on our bodies.
He did not answer. I found myself staring into the crevice in his cheek, wondering how it could be so hollow.
"You can let yourself out.", he said. He walked through the door, and was gone.
I was left staring at the flickering shadows waltzing across the wall. I was not even worth cruelty - it was that knowledge that made me cry.
I turned my face away from the space that had once seen his shadow.
I could see the flames' shadows flickering on the hollows of his cheeks. His blue caftan was too bright, somehow: I wanted to look away, but I was transfixed by the movement of dark and light playing on his face, the fire's dance reflected on his skin.
"You can't hurt me anymore", I said.
We both knew it was a lie, like the lace coverlet that hid the flaws on our bodies.
He did not answer. I found myself staring into the crevice in his cheek, wondering how it could be so hollow.
"You can let yourself out.", he said. He walked through the door, and was gone.
I was left staring at the flickering shadows waltzing across the wall. I was not even worth cruelty - it was that knowledge that made me cry.
I turned my face away from the space that had once seen his shadow.
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