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September 30, 2007

Atlantique? Fantastique!

Posted by eric at 08:44 PM | Comments (1)

September 28, 2007

Why did Frunze get the works? That's nobody's business but the Kyrgyz.

A former co-worker and extremely high-quality individual now has a blog! And she and her husband (also a former co-worker and extremely high-quality person) live in Bishkek!

Isn't that weird?

Check her out. She = awesome.

Posted by eric at 04:44 PM | Comments (2)

Prose Combat

Forget the Catholic League boycott of Miller beer over the Folsom Street Fair poster. (I have many weird stories from the Folsom Street Fair from when I lived in San Francisco; none of them were even remotely sexual. One involved a discussion of regional transit policy with a naked 50-something man wearing nothing but clothespins.) I feel like boycotting Bud Light for their new Spanglish/Caribbean slang subway advertising campaign. Last night I had to move to another subway car, it was making me so queasy.

Not that I have anything against Latinos! I am taking Spanish again this fall, and the class is even taught by a Cuban. Except he is making us watch the terrible Spanish sitcom “Ana y los 7”, about a 48-year-old, street-smart stripper who becomes the nanny to the seven mischievous children of a rich widower. It’s like The Sound of Music, minus anything redeeming.

Speaking of television, I’ve been watching “Human Weapon”, and I’m shocked that I find it interesting. I know this type of show is popular with a certain segment of the bear-Eagle-going-scruff-and-fur-and-shaved-head-and-ultimate-fighting-loving gay male population, but I’m normally more of a quirky, very low-rated comedy kind of guy. Anyway, I like “Human Weapon”, but I often get distracted by Jason Chambers’s full, lustrous hair while watching. But maybe I should take a קרב מגע class.

Speaking of which, I am going to take Hebrew and Spanish simultaneously this fall. Wish me luck. It could end up being a total nakba.

Speaking of which, I finally saw Paradise Now (oh, sorry, الجنّة الآن). I liked it well enough, although I had read this review beforehand, which calls it a “Nazi film”.

I agree with some of her points -- there is something ominous about the way that the only Hebrew words spoken in the movie are “בהצלחה” (“good luck”) by the Jewish Israeli who has been paid to facilitate their suicide bombing. But her criticism that the suicide bombers are too attractive doesn’t seem fair to me.

If that's a legitimate criticism, then any American film could be condemned for not having an all-morbidly obese cast.

Also, I think that the Palestinians, of all people, have the right to use Christian imagery. Here is the ninja scene from Divine Intervention, which I think uses Christ imagery in a very clever way.

UPDATE:

Another cool scene from Divine Intervention with no Christian imagery.

Posted by eric at 12:13 AM | Comments (7)

September 26, 2007

"prole creep"

Just hearing that someone came up with a concept called “prole creep” has got my mind racing.

Without having read anything about it, I can think of several examples.

Tattoos, for one. Didn’t those originate with sailors getting them in Polynesia, and then bringing the concept back to Europe and America?

Necklaces for men?

George H. W. Bush producing George W. Bush?

UPDATE: Jewelry on children. (Especially pierced ears on babies.)

UPDATE: The wearing of baseball caps/trucker hats, of course.

UPDATE: Publicly revealing personal details about one's life. Via "blogs", for example.

UPDATE: Weightlifting.

UPDATE: Wearing sweatpants/tracksuits while not exercising.

Posted by eric at 09:26 AM | Comments (33)

September 25, 2007

I realize the summer has ended

And we are definitely not saved.

This is normally paired with the extremely disturbing See the Sea, so you should enjoy it here, even if you don't speak French.

UPDATE: Oh, I guess this is Not Safe for Work.

Posted by eric at 09:57 PM | Comments (7)

the lust to make the world intolerable

Is there any end to my ignorance? Why had I never read this?

(No offense, Andrea.)

Also, noooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!

I give up.

Posted by eric at 12:01 AM | Comments (7)

September 24, 2007

Falò delle vanità

Did you know that Herodotus was the father of history?

I don’t know anything.

I didn’t know about Savonarola, much to Young Faruq's disappointment. (I disappoint him a lot.) I think it’s time for my own Bonfire of the Vanities, frankly. But I’m keeping a cute top I bought in Israel. (UPDATE: Oh my God, "Savonarola" would be such a good brand name for a very harsh soap. I wish I could monetize that idea.)

I didn’t know about the Parable of the Unjust Steward, which I heard yesterday for the first time. It is very odd, since it appears to condone fraudulent business practices. However, it meets the so-called criterion of embarrassment, which makes scholars think that it represents the actual words of Jesus, instead of garbage just made up later by the Church, like “You shall love your neighbor as yourself”. Speaking of criterion of embarrassment, I was reading about the satanic verses (not the novel, but rather the concept; by the way, don’t ever bring this up with a practicing Muslim, because they get really touchy about this) and saw that the word Gharaniq is a hapax legomenon, and I had never heard of a hapax legomenon before. And then I saw that גבינה is a hapax legomenon in Biblical Hebrew, even though it is used all of the time in (Modern Israeli) Hebrew. I wonder if גלידה is mentioned in the Book of Job too.

(A friend of mine said to me this weekend, “let me know when you’re normal again.” I didn’t have the heart to break it to him that I am like Julieta Serrano’s character in Mujeres al borde de un ataque de nervios, and I just faked sanity to get out of the asylum.)

I also had never heard of porn creep before, but I am more upset by the concept of “prole creep”, evidently developed by this person. (“If I didn't have writing, I'd be running down the street hurling grenades in people's faces.” Interesting!) It is a concept that explains horrible things like Estuary English, which is why we can no longer look to England for anything at all.

I also didn’t know about איילת זורר (“my age”!), but now I am kind of obsessed with her.

She is so pretty and sad. Just like I was, once. (Pretty, that is. I am still sad.)

I am also obsessed with this song, which I heard in Israel at a bar, and everyone was doing some funny dance moves to it. The refrain means “water for King David, water, water, for King David” (you know, just like the words to a popular song in the U.S. would be).

Here is a clip from an Israeli wedding where people are dancing to that song. How refreshing (if undignified) do Israeli weddings seem! No “bridezillas” there!

By the way, I don’t share all of this obscure claptrap with you to show off, as some have accused. I share all of this with you because I want you to know.

Posted by eric at 12:29 PM | Comments (14)

September 21, 2007

rage and impotent despair 5

Don’t worry; this will all be over soon.

I decided to write about Status Anxiety by Alain de Botton (“my age”!) because it seemed very relevant to many of the issues I’ve brought up over the years on this here website thingy. I sometimes talk about travel, very occasionally politics, every once in a while my ill-informed amateur interest in languages, but much of the time the persona I’ve constructed here is very worried about the signs of aging on his face and head, popularity, how fat he is, and the opinions of the fashionable, perfect-bodied, caramel-complected, full-head-of-haired fellows at his evil, self-esteem-destroying gym.

(In real life, I am worried about all of that too, but much, much more. I was trying to think of things that I am not neurotic about. I can have my blood drawn with no problems, and I have no fear of hijacked planes with retinal scanners looking for me, although I believe the actual term for that fear is “schizophrenia”. I did previously have a fear of schizophrenia, though.)

The de Botton book seems especially relevant for gay life in New York.

Lovelessness

Many people in New York, especially in my demographic, are far away from their families, who are generally our best bet – although it is by no means guaranteed – for a source of unconditional love. In a crowded, expensive city filled with many rich and famous persons, it is very easy to feel like a nobody whose passing would barely be noticed, as, indeed, it probably wouldn’t be.

Expectation

Being around so many persons who are rich, famous, beautiful, upwardly mobile, successful, etc. (especially many who are so young), can also inflate our expectations about ourselves. Why can’t I have abs like that? Why don’t I have a fancy apartment in Chelsea? Why can’t I afford an iPhone? Why don’t I get invited to orgies with porn stars?

Meritocracy

Even though New York has its share of the independently wealthy and persons who owe their apartments to their parents, the prevailing culture glorifies work and personal achievement. People love to talk about how many hours they work. People participate in conference calls from the Fire Island ferry. I know a few persons who carry around their Blackberries to make it look like they are working, when in fact they are just responding to personal e-mails. Not only is success important, but the appearance of hard work is crucial as well.

Snobbery

In a heavily populated city that is also a center for fashion, advertising, marketing, and media, it is inevitable that people will use hairstyles, clothing, muscles and other accessories, taste in music, and other cues to evaluate others in order to determine who should be included in one’s group. And I’m not just talking about angertwinks – there are several loci of fashion-bear snobbery as well, as I have described in the past.

Dependence

In an absurdly expensive place where people are often far away from a familial support network, many are just a paycheck away from losing their apartments. And huge numbers of people go into debt even with their full-time jobs, so a fabulous New York lifestyle is difficult to sustain if one has lost one’s job. And it’s not like people have spare rooms to put each other up in. So one’s place in New York society is generally very insecure.

De Botton proposes a number of solutions to these problems.

Philosophy

This is where he discusses the use of reason and logic to evaluation oneself, as opposed to the opinions of others.

Other people’s heads are too wretched a place for true happiness to have its seat. – Schopenhauer, Parerga and Paralipomena (1851)
…
Schopenhauer summed up the state of affairs by quoting Voltaire: “La terre est couverte de gens qui ne méritent pas qu’on leur parle” (“the earth swarms with people who are not worth talking to”).
…
The disadvantage of this otherwise usefully clear-eyed view of humanity is that it may leave us with few friends.

Politics

In this section, de Botton discusses how the criteria for high status changes in different societies:

Requirements of High Status In:

Sparta, Greek Peninsula, 400 B.C.

The most honoured members of ancient Spartan society were men – more particularly, aggressive men with large muscles, vigourous (bi)sexual appetites, scant interest in family life, a distaste for business and luxury and an enthusiasm for killing (especially Athenians) on the battlefield. The fighters of Sparta never used money; they avoided hairdressers and entertainers; and they were unsentimental about their wives and children, if they had them. If was a disgrace for such a man ever to be seen in the marketplace; indeed, even knowing how to count was frowned upon, as an indicator of a commercial bent. From the age of seven, every male Spartan was required to train as a solider, sleep and eat in barracks, and practise battle manoeuvres. Marriage was no impediment: husbands too, had to live in the barracks, though they were allowed to spend one night a month with their wives in order to perpetuate their kind. Weak and defective infants were commonly taken out to the barren slopes of Mount Taygetus and left there to die of exposure.

Actually, other than the part about avoiding the marketplace and hairdressers, that’s kind of like Chelsea, isn’t it?

Bohemia

One way to deal with status anxiety is to opt out of “society” entirely. Although in New York, most people who identify as “bohemian” tend to be the children of mega-millionaires, who then take massive amounts of drugs and have dirty group sex which becomes the subject of photography exhibitions sold for high prices in Chelsea galleries, and then these children move on to become fashion designers.

But still, it’s an idea.

Art

Here de Botton points out that in many books, paintings, poems, and films, it is those of low status who are the heroes, while the rich and powerful are the villains. So retreating into the world of art (with the exception of the aforementioned photography exhibitions), can provide great comfort. I would also include blogs here, even though many would object to blogs being considered art. But with a few exceptions like Andy Towle, Michael Lucas, and Tony Rizzuto, most bloggers are social outcasts and losers, and we are the stars of our own stories.

The final solution he proposes is religion, and with that, my friends, this story will have come to an end.

Posted by eric at 12:27 PM | Comments (17)

all the people are in fault

Posted by eric at 09:31 AM | Comments (7)

September 20, 2007

rage and impotent despair 4

In Status Anxiety by Alain de Botton (“my age”!), he lists dependence as one of the causes of status anxiety. In the modern age, we are faced with continual uncertainty about the future of our status.

In traditional societies, high status may have been inordinately hard to acquire, but it was also comfortingly hard to lose. It was as difficult to stop being a lord as, more darkly, it was to cease being a peasant. What mattered was one’s identity at birth, rather than anything one might achieve in one’s lifetime through the exercise of one’s faculties. What mattered was who one was, seldom what one did.

De Botton lists the following forms of dependence that can cause our position in life to change abruptly:

1. Dependence on Fickle Talent

Presumably, we make our living using some sort of talent or skill. But can we control our talent? If we are creative directors, can we be sure that we will always be sufficiently creative? If we are construction workers, will we always have the dexterity and strength necessary for the job? If we are brain surgeons, can we be sure that we will always have steady hands? If we are farm workers, will we always be able to bend over to pick up the required hourly number of strawberries? If we are teen-age pop stars, will be able to continue to deliver successfully provocative lip-synched performances? If we are writers, will we always be able to come up with compelling things to write about? (The answer to this last one should be clear.)

2. Dependence on Luck

De Botton notes that people don’t like to talk about luck much anymore. Success or failure (up to and including things like disease or death) is pretty much always attributed to the wise or foolish actions of the individual. Lost your job? You must have screwed up. Got cancer? You didn’t consume enough anti-oxidants. Got promoted? Congratulations! You deserved it! The whole concept of “luck” is just superstition, right? We’re in control of everything, right?

Of course, we aren’t in control of other people, but that’s why we sue.

3. Dependence on an Employer

Unless you happen to be in a contractual relationship with your employer, or you live in Western Europe, you can probably be fired for no reason at any time.

4. Dependence on an Employer’s Profitability

That is, layoffs.

5. Dependence on the Global Economy

As we are all aware, the pace of change in the global economy continues to increase. Products and services become obsolete very quickly, and new ones sprout up. If you don’t adapt and update your skills, you lose out. What color is your parachute?

As I write this, the Euro is worth US$1.40 and the British Pound is worth $2, by the way.

...

All of these causes of anxiety are even worse in New York, especially for the gays, I would argue.

Posted by eric at 08:51 AM | Comments (3)

September 19, 2007

If I had to name my best asset, I'd probably say everything

A little break from the status anxiety.

This is especially directed at...well, you know who you are.

Posted by eric at 05:01 PM | Comments (5)

rage and impotent despair 3

In Status Anxiety by Alain de Botton (“my age”!), he lists snobbery as one of the causes of status anxiety.

Evidently the term “snob” originally meant someone of low status, as it was supposedly an abbreviation for sine nobilitate, although I believe that this etymology is now discredited.

In any case, snobs, as we all know, are now those who look down on people they deem to be of low status, for whatever reason. I’m afraid I’m sometimes guilty of snobbery, but de Botton makes it clear that snobbery has its origins in insecurity.

”There go the Spicer Wilcoxes, Mamma!” a daughter exclaims to her mother while walking in Hyde Park on a spring morning in a Punch cartoon of 1892. “I’m told they are dying to know us. Hadn’t we better call?”

“Certainly not, Dear,” replies the mother, labouring under an ancestral sense of unworthiness. “If they’re dying to know is, they’re not worth knowing. The only People worth Our knowing are the people who don’t want to know us!”

Snobs tend to worry about what other people will think of them were they to associate with persons of low status, moderate income, bad fashion sense, patchy facial hair, or excess body fat. But a snob’s behavior can change once they learn that someone is connected to someone considered socially desirable. De Botton quotes a scene from Proust, in which the narrator goes to meet an aristocratic friend at a restaurant. He is treated poorly until his friend arrives, then, when he asks for some bread from the restaurant manager:

“Certainly, Monsieur le baron!” “I am not a baron,” I told him in a tone of mock sadness. “Oh, I beg your pardon, Monsieur le comte!” I had no time to lodge a second protest, which would no doubt have promoted me to the rank of marquis.

De Botton ends the chapter with this:

If poverty is the customary material penalty for low status, then neglect and faraway looks are the emotional penalties that a snobbish world appears unable to stop imposing on those bereft of the symbols of importance.

The final cause of status anxiety is dependence…

Posted by eric at 12:46 PM | Comments (4)

September 18, 2007

rage and impotent despair 2

In Status Anxiety by Alain de Botton (“my age”!), he lists meritocracy as one of the causes of status anxiety.

To occupy a low position in the social hierarchy is rarely pleasant from a material point of view, but it is not everywhere and at all times equally psychologically painful. The impact of poverty on self-esteem will to an important extent be decided by the way that poverty is interpreted and accounted for by the community.

From the time of Jesus through the fall of Communism, the poor had three useful stories that could provide comfort in light of their economic deprivation.

1. The Poor Are Not Responsible for Their Condition and Are the Most Useful in Society

Medieval art and literature were therefore peppered with liberal, if condescending, praise of the peasantry, and it was not forgotten that Jesus himself had been a carpenter.

2. Low Status Has No Moral Connotation

Insofar as Christianity ever strayed from a neutral position on money, it was in favour of poverty, for in the Christian schema, the source of all goodness was the recognition of one’s dependence on God.

3. The Rich Are Sinful and Corrupt and Owe Their Wealth to Their Robbery of the Poor

This was the most recent story, ending around the time of the fall of the Berlin Wall, although it persists in Cuba and Venezuela to some extent. Not really in China anymore.

In the 18th Century, these stories started to be replaced by three new ones.

1. The Rich Are the Useful Ones, Not the Poor
2. Status Does Have Moral Connotations
3. The Poor Are Sinful and Corrupt and Owe Their Poverty to Their Own Stupidity

Few people would argue that nepotism is good, and I think most of us would agree that a meritocracy is better than a system in which people are given jobs only because of familial connections or are discriminated against because of their race or ethnicity. But as we move further towards a “fairer” society, those who fail have no one to blame but themselves.

Michael Young, The Rise of Meritocracy (London, 1958):

“Today all persons, however humble, know they have had every chance… If they have been labeled ‘dunce’ repeatedly they cannot any longer pretend… Are they not bound to recognize that they have an inferior status, not as in the past because they were denied opportunity, but because they are inferior?”

To the injury of poverty, a meritocratic system now added the insult of shame.

The other causes of status anxiety are snobbery and dependence...

Posted by eric at 12:41 PM | Comments (6)

September 17, 2007

rage and impotent despair

In Status Anxiety by Alain de Botton (“my age”!), he defines the problem like this:

Every adult life could be said to be defined by two great love stories. The first – the story of our quest for sexual love – is well known and well charted, its vagaries form the staple of music and literature, it is socially accepted and celebrated. The second – the story of our quest for love from the world – is a more secret and shameful tale. If mentioned, it tends to be in caustic, mocking terms, as something of interest chiefly to envious or deficient souls, or else the drive for status is interpreted in an economic sense alone. And yet this second love story is no less intense than the first, it is no less complicated, important or universal, and its setbacks are no less painful. There is heartbreak here too.

De Botton identifies several causes for our status anxiety. One is lovelessness.

Even though our society, especially in New York, seems to be completely wealth-obsessed, it is really the status that comes from wealth that people are seeking. To be a “somebody” instead of a “nobody”.

…the impact of low status should not be read in material terms alone. The gravest penalty rarely lies – above subsistence levels, at least – in mere physical discomfort; in consists more often, even primarily, in the challenge that low status poses to a person’s sense of self-respect. Provided that it is not accompanied by humiliation, discomfort can be endured for long periods without complaint. For proof of this, we have only to look to the example of the many soldiers and explorers who have, over the centuries, willingly tolerated privations far exceeding those suffered by the poorest members of their societies, so long as they were sustained throughout their hardships by an awareness of the esteem in which there were held by others.

Being a “somebody” is confirmation that you are worth something, and that you are loved.

When you can see that others around you are considered “somebodies” but you are not, you can end up consumed by envy and anxiety.

Another cause is expectation.

De Botton points out that the decline in actual deprivation in our modern world may have caused an increase in fear of deprivation. Our desires and expectations can be infinite. When we lived in stratified societies with no chance for advancement, there was little use for envy. We only really feel envy for those we see as our peers or equals.

Given the vast inequalities we are daily confronted with, the most notable feature of envy may be that we manage not to envy everyone. There are people whose enormous blessings leave us wholly untroubled, even as others’ negligible advantages become a source of relentless torment for us. We envy only those whom we feel ourselves to be like – we envy only members of our reference group. There are few successes more unendurable than those of our ostensible equals.

One of the effects of living in a society where people have unlimited expectations for themselves is that pessimism is frowned upon.

When informed of the death of his one-year-old son, Philippe the Good (1396-1467), duke of Burgundy, replied in a tone characteristic of many voices in the premodern period: “If only God had deigned to let me die so young, I would have considered myself fortunate.”

But we are told that we can accomplish anything, if we just work hard enough at it. We can do anything or be anything. Our lives are in our own hands.

The other causes are meritocracy, snobbery, and dependence…

Posted by eric at 08:54 PM | Comments (9)

September 16, 2007

France, Francer, St. Francis Xavier

Thanks to Young Faruq for this.

I identified with the main character.

Posted by eric at 09:56 AM | Comments (4)

September 15, 2007

Me olvidarás, me olividarás

You will.

If you don't speak Spanish, a Japanese translation is provided.

Posted by eric at 02:52 PM | Comments (1)

I know my tragedy

Old news, again, I know.

In other randomness, this article about light pollution is now available.

Posted by eric at 09:58 AM

September 14, 2007

Outremer 13

I'm back. The flight from Spring Hill to Newark was brutal: it lasted nearly 12 hours, and I barely slept for four of them. Then I went to work. Ugh.

There were almost no Jews on my flight, since it was the eve of Head of the Year. It's rare to see a mostly empty flight these days. Most of the passengers appeared to be members of church tour groups.

In the early afternoon of my last day in Israel, I went to swim at the gay beach. The water was calm and at the perfect temperature. There wasn't a cloud in the sky. I could spend my entire life swimming in the Mediterranean Sea, I think, although I often think that it's weird to be staring out at the Mediterranean when one is not in a country where a Romance language is spoken. I had a similar sense of unease the time I went to Croatia. Then again, I'm a total fucking whackjob.

I had lunch at a seaside café next to two American guys. They were totally over-the-top macho, snickering about being drunk on scotch, getting into fights, and obtaining quasi-non-consensual blowjobs. Every other word was "fucking". One of them got up from the table to ask for a light during the meal, and he had good-sounding Hebrew, at least to me. (Isn't it weird how smoking accentuates one's masculinity or femininity? If you are very masculine, smoking makes you look more masculine; if you are very feminine, smoking makes you look more feminine. I think it has something to do with the fine motor coordination. Then again, it could just be another one of my whackjob observations.) After a bit more eavesdropping, I learned that one of them was in Israel to serve in the Israeli army. He was obviously not religious, so I assumed he was doing it to add another tough-guy activity to his resume. This made me uncomfortable.

Later in the afternoon, we headed back to Jerusalem for a Head of the Year dinner at the home of the family of אסף. I was starving again, and the food was very tasty. It was standard European Jewish fare: apples and honey, poached fish patties made from a mixture of ground deboned carp, pomegranate seeds, potatoes, and brisket. There was no sesame paste in sight, may God be praised! I asked if there was anything specifically Israeli about the meal. No one could think of anything, other than that people were somewhat informally dressed. Maybe there was less wine consumed than there would have been in the United States. People don't seem to drink very much in Israel. Many times during my visit I was offered apple juice and marijuana where in the US or Europe I would have been offered a drink. Have I already bloviated about my extremely obvious theory related to alcohol consumption and latitude? If Muhammad had been born in Norway, vodka shots would be one of the pillars of Islam, I think.

I took a taxi to the airport at around 8:45 in the evening. The roads were mostly deserted. The taxi was stopped at the entrance to the airport, and a guard examined my passport and asked me a few questions. Inside the airport, I was questioned again before check-in, and my bags were put through an x-ray machine and then opened and swabbed for traces of explosive material. I then had to go through another metal detector and my carry-on bag was opened and swabbed again. Then there was a final immigration control where my passport was examined, but I wasn't asked any more questions.

All throughout this extensive security, I was treated very courteously, but maybe that was because the airport was relatively empty. Most of the security people were quite young, so maybe they were just being respectful to an elder. There was little of the pointless cover-your-ass security you see in the United States, like putting flip-flops through the x-ray machine or forcing people to pour out their water bottles. (And no yelling at an entire line of people to humiliate them, which I think has become common here to make the underpaid TSA employees feel better about their miserable jobs, in the name of “9-11”.)

At the gate, the church groups were guzzling big bottles of diet cola in preparation for the red-eye flight. I decided to be all fancy and sophisticated and ordered a shot of whiskey. I would later regret this decision, since I woke up four hours into the flight with a splitting headache and moderate nausea that would last for the next 15 hours. I admit that when I noticed on the flight map that we were over Spain, I felt a slight sense of relief, thinking: finally back to civilization.

This little travelogue has angered some readers of this here website thingy, for a variety of reasons. You may have noticed that I did not discuss the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, or the human rights abuses that are going on in the West Bank and Gaza. This is partly because there are millions of other people who are much more educated than I am and who are currently offering their own opinions on this subject, so I saw no reason to add my own. Also, I went to Israel as the guest of an Israeli and his family, so I felt that it was inappropriate and impolite for me to bring up sensitive issues. I could have had a tour of the Israeli West Bank barrier from some human rights organizations related to my job, but I decided not to.

One other reason I haven’t written much about this issue: I don’t really think there is a solution to the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. (WARNING: “MUSINGS” AHEAD! Jimbo, please stop reading.)

Of course the current situation is unsustainable, but I think that liberals who think that a two-state solution is going to solve all of the problems in the Middle East and between the West and the Muslim world are hopelessly naïve. The very existence of Israel is a problem in the hearts and minds of millions. But the destruction of the State of Israel or the expulsion of all Arabs from the territory conquered by Israel in 1967 don’t seem to be very good options either. Transferring the West Bank back to Jordan and Gaza to Egypt? That’s unlikely to make everyone happy.

I can understand the perspective of those who think that Israel is a European, imperialist, colonial project equivalent to the Arabs asking for Andalusia back. I can also completely understand the view that Israel is the culmination of a national liberation struggle lasting 2,000 years, on land legitimately acquired in the wake of the Ottoman Empire’s defeat in World War I, sanctioned by the United Nations but rejected by the Arab neighbors, who then lost the subsequent war.

It’s not as if the founding of the state of Israel was any more unjust than, say, the founding of the United States of America, or the Kingdom of Spain (actually, it was considerably less unjust than either of those). It just happened more recently. But I also think it's perfectly legitimate to think that Israel has no right to exist, just as I can think that New Jersey has no right to exist.

For purely selfish reasons, Israel is probably more pleasant to visit than, say, an Islamic Caliphate of Palestine would be, but I wouldn’t be thrilled if a Third Temple were built and animal sacrifices resumed (talk about paganism!).

But: whatever. Although I have a right to an opinion, it’s not really going to help anything.

I wasted a lot of money on a worthless graduate degree where I studied nationalism and ethnic politics. I think it’s all very interesting, but I look at these things in a pretty detached way. The world is getting messier and more complex every day. I think a few supposedly intractable national conflicts are about to disappear as a result of immigration (Northern Ireland, for example). What does or should the future hold for Israel?

I really have no fucking clue.

Posted by eric at 10:33 AM | Comments (17)

September 12, 2007

Outremer 12

I hung out with some friends of אסף's who live in the פלורנטין (Florentin) neighborhood of Tel Aviv, which is kind of like how the East Village used to be, before all the bistros.

They were very pretentious, in a very skilled manner that kept veering back and forth between highbrow and lowbrow to keep me continually off-balance. For example, when it was said that I had just eaten my first falafel in Israel, and how crazy was it that I went for a whole week in Israel without having falafel, one of them said, "I never touch falafel." When אסף said that he didn't go out much, one of them said, "I can't stand to let a weekend go by without going out and getting drunk with my friends." When discussing their upcoming trip to Thailand and upon אסף commenting that the island they had chosen didn't have much in the way of nightlife, they replied, "oh, we don't want to party, we only want to rest and read for 10 days." When אסף described someone in his early 30's as "young", one of them said, "darling, we are 30 now and that is very far away from being young." And so on.

They were actually pretty nice and interesting, all things considered.

Usually when one travels abroad, one hears anti-American speeches that focus on American politics and foreign policy. Israelis can't complain about American foreign policy, of course, since the United States is Israel's only truly dependable ally in the world. So they were almost apologetic in bringing up a few questions about the mental health of the world's supposedly sole remaining superpower.

"We see these television shows from the United States, and we don't really understand how this is the country that rules the world," one of them said. As we spoke, an episode of "Pimp My Ride" was playing on the television in which several obese Latinos were installing a cotton-candy machine in a trunk.

"This reality show about Hugh Hefner and the girls who become his Playmates... In Israel these girls would simply be prostitutes, but in America the girls' parents come on television to say how proud they are of their daughters. It is kind of strange, isn't it?"

Well, yes.

They asked what the average American thought of Israelis.

"Most Americans probably have no concept of an Israeli. Most American Jews probably have a vague idea, based on a summer trip to Israel. They are likely to say that Israelis are tough and that they invented falafel," I said. (My Hebrew teacher made it very clear that "falafel" couldn't originally be a Heberew word, since no Hebrew word can begin with "f".)

"But what about CNN? They talk about Israel all of the time, don't they?" one of them asked. I had to break it to them that there is a separate CNN for America, with reduced coverage of international affairs and much uglier graphic design. They were alarmed.

Frankly, I don't see how American society can continue on its present course without our entire civilization collapsing, but I live in a city overflowing with gazillionaires, so maybe I'm wrong. But it looks very weird from the outside -- even from Israel, one of the world's weirdest countries.

This has seemed like a very long trip, but it has definitely been enlightening. God-willing, I fly back tonight.

Here are some more photos of Tel Aviv:

Israel is full of fruits.

Some are still waiting for the Messiah.

Here I ate a burger.

What every American, straight, male college student loves.

The future was here.

This looks familiar.

Evidently the best sushi in Tel Aviv. I didn't take the chance.

This neighborhood is like what the East Village is now: fancy boutiques.

This is a bad photo, but that man is playing the violin. It seemed charming at the time.

Shopping on Sheinkin.

Israelis may be generally very good-looking, but I'm not so sure about their fashion sense. Some have taken too many trips to India and Thailand. The man-purse is very popular, sadly.

There is a fair amount of colorful squalor. I talked to a guy who recently moved to Israel from the US. He said that salaries here are less than half of what they are in the US, while prices are about the same. He said that he made more as a busboy in San Francisco in the mid-1990's than a friend who is a university professor in Tel Aviv earns now.

Florentin.

Hummus from Bethlehem. Just like Mary used to make.

More Florentin.

Yet gentrification is creeping in.

Along with opposition to gentrification (or so I was told; I can't read that).

One last view of the gay beach, and two guys playing מטקות.

The sun sets over the promised land.

Posted by eric at 12:54 AM | Comments (22)

September 11, 2007

Outremer 11

I caught a glimpse of Armageddon.

From the car. Disappointing, actually.

Further in הגליל‎, we spent a few hours in الناصرة. I visited the ancient Basilica of the Annunciation, completed the year I was born.

I walked around and looked at the funky international representations of the BVM, along with all the other Latin Americans there on a pilgrimage to the Holy Land.

Still, it was good to be back among my people.

We had a coffee while looking at Lake Tiberius in the distance.

I didn't get to ללכת על המים.

We headed further into the lands of the Druze. You can tell you are in a Druze village, since even though all of the signs are in Arabic, the people seem less angry/depressed. The Druze also generally serve in the Israeli army.

We spent the night in a hippie community on the Lebanese border.

Our hostess looked so Israeli, although I don't believe her left eye was lazy.

I could hear jackals howling during the night, and a goatherd and his flock or whatever in the morning.

We stopped at the border. There was a sign saying that photography was forbidden.

If I had been in the United States, I would be in Guantánamo by now, but the Israeli border guard didn't seem to care.

I lay back and thought of England.

We spent quite a long time looking at the legacy of the Crusaders in عكا.

Even though the Crusaders were pretty awful, I'm kind of obsessed by them.

عكا has a really interesting history. Under the Crusaders, it was a den of vice, but, sadly, no longer.

We had some trouble navigating the streets.

We drove through חיפה/حيفا, but we didn't have time to stop.

Closer to Tel Aviv, a really hot arsy guy washed our car. He was beautiful and had no body fat (he lifted his shirt at one point).

By the way, did you know that people say אהלן as a common greeting in (modern Israeli) Hebrew? It comes from Arabic.

I had no idea.

So much for שלום...

Posted by eric at 12:05 AM | Comments (10)

September 08, 2007

Outremer 10

Since I was so traumatized by the angertwink party I went to on my first night in Israel, last night I went to a more appropriate event for those in my demographic. I felt like I was back in New York.

I had a great time, actually. They played Stars on 45, for Christ's sake! Sadly, I was overserved. Oh well.

On Saturday, I was invited by אסף's family to see their new house and then to spend the day with them at a beach north of Tel Aviv. We ate lunch in the town of בנימינה, where we got stuck in some sort of Kafkaesque traffic circle nightmare, as every attempt to leave the (small) town brought us back to the same place. It was funny, until it started to seem like some surreal scary film.

Somehow, we got out.

Then we had to go pick up אסף's sister's boyfriend נדב. But there wasn't enough room in the car, so אסף's sister had to lie down illegally on top of everyone in the back seat.

נדב had to bring his M16 to the beach with him. I wanted to take a photo of a shirtless, twenty-year-old Israeli guy with no body fat holding an assault rifle on the beach, but I was too afraid to ask.

Posted by eric at 07:01 PM | Comments (11)

Outremer 9

In Israel, the weekend starts on Thursday night, since people don't work on Friday or Saturday (but they work on Sunday, to show that they are not Christians). So on Friday, Tel Avivians go to the beach.

So much hotness. This photo is kind of blurry, though, that's why it's small.

The beach in Tel Aviv is a tad too dirty for me, but the warm Mediterranean feels great. And it's nice to see all of the jaw-droppingly gorgeous inhabitants of the city in their bathing suits.

Someone once told me that the reason there is so much bloodshed in Israel and Lebanon is that their location at the eastern end of the Mediterranean makes for very bad feng shui.

Anyway, here is the logo used for taxis (I think it's used countrywide). I'm not crazy about it. It's just the word for taxi in Hebrew (מונית), written in a strange typeface.

I wish that New York had ANY logo or graphic identity for its taxicabs, other than making them all that same shade of orange-yellow. It's really boring. I will call it tired in honor of fashion week, which thank God I am missing.

The logo for the post office, however, is great.

I will say it yet again: I wish we had better design in the United States.

Posted by eric at 02:41 AM | Comments (3)

September 06, 2007

Outremer 8

Yesterday I took a public bus from Tel Aviv to Jerusalem. I sat next to a cute, scruffy, young soldier who was holding his M16 in his lap. (By the way, beards are "in" here, and not just among the religious.) I knew it wasn't loaded, but he kept falling asleep and then suddenly jerking himself awake, so I started to get nervous that I was going to get shot. Then I started to nod off myself, but I was worried that I was going to dream about making out with him and then end up doing something inappropriate while asleep, resulting in me getting shot.

The bus trip passed without incident, however.

I had lunch with אסף at an Iraqi restaurant in the שוק מחנה יהודה, where I ate, yet again, some חומוס.

And some other stuff.

It was delicious, although I've reached the point in an international trip when I start hankering for a burrito (trips to Mexico excepted).

Later we walked by the area where all of the American kids hang out. Here is a selection of whimsical כיפות for sale.

Then we took a walk in the first Jewish neighborhood build outside the city walls.

It is now very pricey real estate. I thought I saw a sunbird, since I saw what looked like a hummingbird, and I know that those don't live outside of the Americas. Convergent evolution!

Here's an example of this donor-naming practice which I think seems very American, although maybe it's not.

Later, in an interesting example of interfaith dialogue, I urinated at King David's Tomb, while אסף took a crap at Abbey of the Dormition of the Virgin Mary.

As we were walking to our ultra-right-wing, religious tour of the Western Wall Tunnel (conducted by an American, of course), I was complaining that people in Jerusalem were not nearly as hot as people in Tel Aviv (if any of you were doubting the depth of my shallowness). Then, as we approached the the square, I beheld this:

It was a swearing-in ceremony for new soldiers.

Oh my Lord Jesus the hotness.

Looking at the group of soliders, I was reminded of how a relatively large percentage of Israelis are -- for want of a better term, and you know I really hate this term because of its crypto-Maoist connotations -- "people of color". In central Tel Aviv the vast majority of people are of European descent, but that is not the case in the country as a whole.

I was so overwhelmed and nonplussed by all of the hotness, I just stood there in a daze.

I quickly had to seek out some ultra-Orthodox to bring me back down to Earth.

Here is a typical Jerusalem scene: an Arab boy, a soldier, and an ultra-Orthodox guy.

Israel is exhausting.

Posted by eric at 09:16 PM | Comments (12)

September 05, 2007

Outremer 7

* I got to ride around Tel Aviv on the back of a motorcycle with a guy named ברק. These (modern Israeli) Hebrew names are so crazy! Sadly, I wasn't taken on a nighttime journey to heaven.

This was after one of several guys I've met named איתי (the boyfriend of אסף's friend שרית) said that riding on a motorcycle in Israel was "very, very dangerous". I don't think that Israeli drivers are especially crazy, from a global perspective. People don't jaywalk here (although this particular איתי claimed that this was because jaywalking in Israel is "very, very dangerous"), and so far no one has tried to run me over, which happens on a daily basis in New York. I don't know if Israelis are crazier drivers than, say, the Italians (I know people who have said that they cried while visiting Rome because they couldn't cross the street). It's hard for me to say, since in New York we import new drivers daily from Karachi and Chandigarh, and they are pretty damn crazy drivers.

* I went for a run along the beach, past restaurants, bars, cafes, and clubs, and into the פארק הירקון, where I ran alongside bougainvillea and oleander, teenage boys playing soccer and basketball, and a number of mothers with young children. Why are Israelis so hot? Is it the climate? Spaniards decline pretty quickly, and they have the same climate. Is it the rigorous, mandatory military service? Are the Swiss this hot? Could someone look into this and get back to me?

I lost my shirt during the course of my run (it had been tucked in my shorts pocket), and when I came back an hour and a half later, it was still there on the ground. Sadly, this is further evidence that public spaces in Israel are not very well maintained. In Spain it would have been quickly removed by a cleaning crew. There is a lot of litter in Israel. I guess when you are worried about being driven into the sea, litter doesn't seem like such a big deal.

* Then I had coffee with this guy.

* Tonight I went to Israeli music night at a gay bar and at a straight bar (with another guy named איתי). After several glasses of עראק, I decided that Israel is like Thailand. In Thailand, the court and the elite looked to India as a cultural model, while the common people were more influenced by China. In Israel, the elite looks to Europe, while the general population is more influenced by the Arabs. I told this theory to אסף, and he said that I was 100% wrong, and that it might actually be the reverse. Oh well. There was a lot of Arabic-sounding music at these bars, though. And people danced funny. Oh, and there was tons of hotness all around.

* Unrelated: I went to a birthday party for a two-year-old.

* I also ate a medium rare veal-beef-lamb burger, so I am now waiting to die.

Posted by eric at 07:34 PM | Comments (5)

September 04, 2007

Outremer 6

Before I forget: Israelis don't pronounce מזל טוב like Americans do.

I just thought you should know.

Above you see an Israeli stop sign. This has to be the best form of the stop sign I have ever come across. It eliminates the imperialistic use of the word "stop" in a non-English-speaking country (this problem plagues Europe) without substituting the local language, which is done incorrectly in Quebec and somewhat pathetically in parts of Latin America. (Aesthetically, I also like the Japanese stop sign, but it's not very helpful to non-Japanese-speakers.) For the two of you reading who might care about this, I also thought you should know.

I had a nice leisurely day walking around Tel Aviv by myself. This is my "morning view" (although I got up at noon).

This is my street.

Tel Aviv is kind of shabby, but it still has a lot of charm.

And some parts are pretty fancy.

There are wide boulevards with bike and pedestrian paths running down the middle.

And there are also cafes, juice bars, and sandwich shops placed along the way.

Still, once you get to כיכר רבין, you can understand why I compared Israel to Bulgaria. There is definitely a slight post-Communist feel to Tel Aviv.

This is a sign for a bakery that had cool design.

The symbol for parking lot incorporates the Hebrew letter ח, which evidently starts the word for "parking lot" in Mishnaic Hebrew.

This is the amazingly awesome symbol indicating a pharmacy. I should have put a prayer into the Western Wall that they don't get rid of this. It made me so happy.

Walking around Tel Aviv today, people were really nice to me. I went into three or four different establishments to get iced coffees and whatnot, and not only did I always get a תודה, I even got a few תודה-רבה. I was surprised.

I also wanted to offer some additional banal observations about Israel. I was really interested to see the level of American influence here. Americans have contributed relatively few immigrants to Israel (this does not apply to West Bank settlers, of which we make up a much larger percentage -- since Jews in America would be unlikely to immigrate to Israel as a result of economic or political oppression in the US, religious fervor is a more common reason), but we are their main ally and certainly provide a lot of money. Israel certainly doesn't really look "American", although I have seen a few more American model cars than one would see in Europe (although I bet fewer than one would see a bit further south in Saudi Arabia). There are plenty of cultural institutions named in honor of their donors, like the Helena Rubinstein Pavilion for Contemporary Art, and that seems very American apart from the fact that the donor is American.

One other major consequence of American influence in Israel is that nearly everyone one meets (with the exception of some newly arrived Russians) speaks excellent English. Even more than in Scandinavia. And they seem to get all of our television. And nothing is dubbed -- it's all subtitled in Hebrew, and sometimes also in Russian.

One last thing: since my first post in Israel, I have met a number of Israelis from different ethnic backgrounds: Moroccan, Polish, Romanian, Kurd, French, Tunisian, etc. So unless you are East Asian or sub-Saharan yet non-Ethiopian looking, you can probably pass as Israeli. People have addressed me in (modern Israeli) Hebrew several times. Today a young, Russian-looking (blond with great cheekbones) soldier came up to me to ask for directions in Hebrew. But instead of responding by using what I learned in my classes, I just said, "I'm not from around here."

Posted by eric at 05:37 PM | Comments (8)

September 03, 2007

Outremer 5

Today we went to the Dead Sea.

Even my bottle of תפוזינה was affected.

Then I was led by the Spirit into the Judean desert.

To be tempted by the devil.

If you look closely, you can see the Hashemite Kingdom of Jordan, which has a hot queen ("my age"!).

Evidently, if you lie on your back the burning sensation will pass.

This is an obligatory photo.

At the Dead Sea you can overhear racist jokes galore!

I did catch a glimpse of the Israeli West Bank barrier, I think.

I also went and got hummus in Abu Ghosh, an Arab village known for its friendly relations with Jews, and also for its hummus.

Posted by eric at 05:52 PM | Comments (20)

September 02, 2007

Outremer 4

Interestingly, upon my triumphant arrival into Jerusalem, I immediately succumbed to Stockholm syndrome.

Seriously, though, the closest I've come to Jerusalem syndrome so far was not while sticking a paper prayer into the Western Wall

(what I wrote was so cryptic that even God would have trouble interpreting it), nor while kneeling at the site of Jesus' supposed resurrection at the Church of the Holy Sepulchre

(I was too distracted by all of the inappropriately dressed Russian tourists, the procession of Armenian monastics, and the handsome young Greek priests), but actually while wandering around the Temple Mount by myself

(אסף was wearing shorts and the Israeli guards told him he would have been barred entry by the Waqf -- another victory for my no-shorts policy). I think it was because it was quiet and calm, and I wasn't directly witnessing any religious activity yet could still feel that I was in Jerusalem.

We had a great tour at the Tower of David museum by an extremely sweet English lady who moved to Jerusalem ten years ago (she said her family had been Austrian Jews mostly killed in the Holocaust). She was the type of older English lady that is rarer and rarer these days, unfortunately.

I didn't even mind it when our religious-yet-modern Israeli guide (she was wearing clothes that technically met Orthodox requirements, but they were in bright colors and were made of hippyish fabrics) at the Davidson Center said "if you ask me, Christianity just seems like another form of paganism" (I'm sure she assumed I was Jewish), as I was totally fascinated by the excavations and reconstructions. (She also said, "if you want to know the truth, Muhammad was never in Jerusalem.")

I was annoyed at seeing a crazy American Evangelical at the Western Wall wearing a t-shirt that said "Jesus is the Messiah" in Hebrew and who was muttering "no Jesus, no life" to anyone who walked near him.

We had dinner at a cozy restaurant with another one of אסף's friends who is saddened by the fact that Jerusalem is being taken over by the ultra-Orthodox, who are generally quite poor, have extremely large families, and are substantially less hot than other Israelis. I considered ordering a bacon cheeseburger (it was on the menu) in solidarity, but I decided that, as a Christian, it wouldn't really make much of a statement.

Anyway, it was an amazing and exhausting day, ending with a walk through grubby "downtown" Jerusalem, which seemed to be populated almost entirely by American Jewish guys between the ages of 17 and 22, smoking hookahs and taking advantage of the lower drinking age. I'm happy that Jonah Lowenstein of Potomac, Maryland is getting to buy a Grateful Dead kippah, but looking at the ratio of guys to girls (like 40 to 1), I think some of those Jewish Guys Gone Wild are going to have to be getting wild with each other tonight.

Also, to add something to my earlier statements about Israelis being unbearably aggressive: I have met a huge number of the nicest and most sincere people I have ever come across in my entire life. I just wouldn't want to wait in line with them at the grocery store.

Posted by eric at 06:09 PM | Comments (6)

September 01, 2007

Outremer 3

Other observations from my first day in Israel:

I am fat.

I went to a rooftop party overlooking the Mediterranean where I talked with a young chef (straight) who remained shirtless the entire time, his fatless abs glowing in the light of the setting sun.

Later, I went out to a gay nightclub.

If I ever again complain that people in New York are too pushy or are too aggressive or that my evil, self-esteem destroying gym is too crowded, I give you permission to come to my job as I am sifting through a pile of paperwork and shoot me in the face. Really, it was hell.

Admittedly, a hell full of super-hot guys. (As, let's face it, hell probably is.)

However, if I weren't here with אסף, the entire experience would have left me curled up fully clothed on the floor of my hotel shower sobbing and rocking back and forth like Eva Green did in Casino Royale after Daniel Craig ("my age"!) killed all of those people. Seriously, I feel like now I could live the rest of my life at Zabar's at 5:30 on a Saturday afternoon with one hand tied behind my back.

Visiting Israel is not for the faint-hearted.*

* Paid for by the Tourism Board of the Islamic Republic of Iran.

Posted by eric at 06:41 AM | Comments (6)