Jun. 15th, 2012

cremains: (always rain)
Levonah smokes on the stove burner, smelling somehow quite clearly like the tree sap it is. I imagine the tree. The shop owner who sold it to me advised me to burn it, and myrrh, every Monday and Thursday, in order to get a husband. When I asked why those specific days, he said "On those days the Torah is open" (ie publically read). As a good little adopted Darda'i, I can't sanction this BS, but a side of me finds it charming and harmless.

It's now been 27 years since I was born in County Down and my dad came to see me in the hospital with foxgloves he cut walking the long road from our small thatched cottage in the cowfields to the "city." It's been a good day. I lie on my back and listen as H. reads to me from Andrea Dworkin. The cats have not yet barfed up any lizards. When I went to buy cheese and hesitated over getting the blue, the seller grinned, covered one eye with his hand, and said to me "היום תעשי ככה, יהיה יותר טוב לך, וגם לי" ("today, do like this [hand gesture], it'll be better for you, and for me too"). He meant to ignore the price. So far, it's been a good strategy. Yes, 27 is a little old to be fucking around with few accomplishments to my name, but if I cover one eye, it's really not so bad.

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cremains: (Default)
this hill is far enough

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