Joseph Zitt's [as if in dreams] 2024-04-02
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...
A white pickup truck with markings from our city government rolls slowly down the street. It abruptly stops and parks along the curb. A stocky bald man gets out, walks to a bench, and picks up a hat that's resting on it. He puts the hat on. It just about fits. He gets back in the truck and drives away.
Another man stands on the sidewalk, facing a bush that's taller than either of us. It looks like he's reading messages on his phone. He steps back and points the phone at the bush, at several different angles. I glance at his screen as I walk past. He's taking well-framed photos of the bush's purple flowers.
In the supermarket, I duck around a soldier and his shopping cart. His machine gun jabs me in the side. He is filling the cart with individual cups of different kinds of yogurt.
The city sends out a text message to many residents reminding them how to prepare for a prolonged power outage.1 People panic and call the city. There's no crisis. It isn't related to yesterday's outage. They just like to remind people of these things every so often.
An oligarch, blocked by sanctions because of his business in Russia, still wants to move some money from his accounts. He claims that he just wants to donate it to the people who have been dealing with bodies during the war. He's back in court.2 His bank says that to move the funds would violate the sanctions.
The case has been going back and forth for a while now. Lower courts have ruled in various ways. Now our Supreme Court has said that he can't do it. There will be a full hearing in the fall. The people he wants to donate the money to could really use it, but it feels like a sneaky way to set a precedent for routing around the sanctions.
As I approach my usual café after work, several long-time workers greet me: "Yosef!" "Yosef, sachlav?"
The woman ringing me up takes my order efficiently, then stops. She leans toward me and says, conspiratorially, "Don't tell them, but I have already forgotten your name."
The cul-de-sac that had been torn up is back together again, paved with bricks rather than asphalt. Sand is scattered on top of some of it, along with a few bits of trash. You wouldn't know that it's new, unless you had seen it dug up yesterday.
Along the pedestrian street, I pass several notably small women with large dogs. The dogs probably outweigh the women. If any of the dogs would start running, I doubt that their humans could hold them back.
There's no danger of that, though. Each dog lumbers amiably along, sniffing the walls and bollards to tell which of their friends had been there. They leave their replies. Smaller dogs come by and yip at them. They aren't interested. They just look down at them, then away. If they had a thought bubble, it might say, "Right, kid. Get off of my lawn."
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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.