March 3, 2024

Joseph Zitt's [as if in dreams] 2024-03-03

Hi. I'm Joseph Zitt. I moved from the US to Israel in 2017. This is my newsletter about more-or-less daily life in my city in the shadow of war. You can select these links to subscribe or unsubscribe. There are more links at the bottom. You can also read this email online here. Here we go...

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On the shortcut to work, at the foot of the steps that I fell down, large branches block the path. City workers have been trimming trees, as they often do on Sunday mornings. They have dumped the branches so that they block pedestrians. The workers seem neither to use nor to be the sharpest tools in the shed.¹

I grab the cut end of one large branch and shove it out of the way. I now have enough space to get by. I also have sticky white goo all over my hand. I hope it's sap.

I curse volubly at the worker (wherever he is) and the branch. I remember that I'm a couple of meters from the open windows of a kindergarten. I stop cursing.

I hold my hand away from my clothes as I walk on.

My phone rings. I carefully juggle the phone and my water bottle, so I can answer the call without making anything sticky.

It's a call that I've been expecting. The person speaks quietly. I have trouble hearing him.

As I walk past a construction site, all its sounds start up at once: cranes, drones, drills, amplified voices, and the strident beeps of trucks backing up. I only hear enough of the caller to know that he is still talking, but not any of what he's saying. I can't hear him clearly again until I'm a full block past the site.

We agree to meet on Wednesday afternoon. He'll send an exact time and address via WhatsApp.

By the time that I get to the office, the goo on my hand has turned clear. It's still sticky, though. I try washing my hand in the bathroom. It doesn't help. By the time I reach my desk, the goo has somehow turned black.

I go into the office kitchen and see a dish scrubber there. I scour my hand. After a while, it works. I guess one hand, at least, is cleaner than it has ever been.

It looks like our folks have blinked first in the standoff with Eurovision. They'll be rewriting the lyrics to make them less "political."²

It helps that the person who was expected to win the contest in Norway didn't. He was nicknamed the "Palestinian Lady Gaga,"³ and has had hits such as "Intifada on the Dance Floor." But he actually studied at a prestigious music school one town over from here.⁴

A member of our War Cabinet is in the States now, planning to meet with Kamala Harris and others. The prime minister reportedly didn't authorize it and is angry that someone else is looking like a leader. Word has it that he ordered our embassy there not to cooperate with the trip.⁵

Our local news site, which (like me) had supported our mayor for re-election, has run a good profile of his opponent, who won.⁶ He seems competent, at least, which is more than you can say of many of the folks in charge at a national level.

Our National Security Council is saying that they won't show up to briefings for the National Security minister because his team brings cellphones into the meetings and leaks information. The minister is saying that he has banned the Council from the briefings after arguments with them.⁷ With a war going on, and worries about new issues this coming weekend due to Ramadan, our government security folks seem to be playing the home game of Get Smart.⁸

In the evening, the neighborhood cats seem unusually aggressive. On the pedestrian street, I interrupt two in the midst of an arched-back staredown. Between my gate and the trash heap, three are running in circles and hissing. They're ignoring the humans. I'm guessing that they've heard the weather report. Rain's coming again.

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Here’s an archive of past newsletters.

You can find me via email, Bluesky, Mastodon, Facebook, and, just out of inertia, X/Twitter. There's more about me and my books, music, and films at josephzitt.com.

The newsletter’s official mailing address is 304 S. Jones Blvd #3567, Las Vegas NV 89107. (I’m in Israel, but if physical mail comes to me at that Las Vegas address, it’ll get scanned and emailed. I don’t expect that to happen much. If you want to send me physical mail, ask me for a real address.)

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L'hitraot.