Nobody Loves Me Like You


I have a longstanding sympathy and such a deep sadness for Palestine, I was anxious about coming to Israel, I never imagined myself here. Our Israeli friends are beautiful people, they are artistic, hospitable, political, and aware, and everyone we have met has been wonderful, welcoming, and kind. Things so far have been fun and good, the food’s amazing, the fashion is unique, the people are great, it’s special to be here.

Literally everyone has dogs, there’s dogs everywhere, happy furry wiggling wagging adorable creatures of every shape, size, and kind, just bursting my heart with how wonderful they are, I’m spending a lot of time smiling at, exclaiming over, cooing, petting, and adoring them all, it’s fantastic. Dogs man, I feel such an immediacy of love for every one of these excellent beings.

We’ve been incredibly jetlagged still, getting up at 6:00pm in the evening, staying up all night, and going to bed as late as noon the following day. This topsy-turviness is working in our favour though, because these are Reshef’s normal hours, so staying with him has not disrupted his life in the least. Also this is very much an extremely late night crowd, on my first birthday, we didn’t leave to go out till after 4 in the morning, every club we entered was full and packed all night, we didn’t get home till 9am. It’s also so hot and muggy in the days and much more moderate, balmy and beautiful overnight, we might just work with the jetlag instead of attempting to fight or reverse it.

We’ve already watched nearly every movie on the external drive, we spend the nights spooning, giggling, and watching films. We watched every episode of The Jinx nearly all in a row, Dylan had never seen it, I rewatched it with him with interest, it’s such a fucked and fascinating story, and what an ending. It could not have ended more explosively or dramatically. During that final interview, the director must’ve been as blindsided and thankful as he was shuddering in secretly total fear. Then we watched The Past, which is such wonderful work from Asghar Farhadi, Farhadi is a fine director, and A Separation and The Past are both fine films.

Dylan had a very bad day today, his wheat and gluten allergy and laundry list of additional limitations makes it very difficult to explain things clearly to foreign waiters at international restaurants, and just overall it’s difficult for him to get to properly eat. When a mistake is made, he wakes up with large red itchy welts and splotches all over his body, his skin becomes an angry canvas of visible discomfort and distress. People without allergies often think that people with allergies are spoiled brats, annoying crybabies who see themselves as needing special treatment. This judgment, impatience, irritation, and open dismissal makes having allergies all the more aggravating, because not only do you have to bore people with details about your allergic life at restaurants and at meals, you also have to convince others that your allergies are serious and real. Often too, what you’re left with actually being able to eat is limited, minimal, and stripped of whatever made the dish taste good. Eating becomes a bland experience and a difficult hassle, which is sad.

Dylan’s been tense and anxious and stressed out, this is a strange reversal, because these are all words and conditions that more continuously normally describe me. He’s been worried about money, our home situation is tentative, certain friends have disappointed him and let him down, business partners have variously failed him and have had to be let go. All this with the angry itchy red welts and splotches all over his skin, concerns about other things like work visa renewals, travel and flight costs, and then Dylan complained about some kind of internally cutting pain, said when he went to pee, it felt like he was pissing acid. Motherfucker’s falling apart right before my goddamned eyes.

“Jesus, darling,” I remarked, “Ain’t nobody got time for that.” Dylan made vague attempts to turn down his depression, and forced a flimsy smile. “We’re on vacation,” I said, “We’re supposed to be having fun, kicking back, and relaxing. Plus it’s my birthday, so you’re extra supposed to be glad.” On my birthdays, Dylan feels pressure to enact much sunshine and roses, but sometimes he needs to be retold. My birthdays are the only days of the year when I get to dress Dylan all up in beautiful elaborate details involving wigs and dramatic false eyelashes, Dylan does me the honour of acting like he adores it. I make him birthday gorgeous, and we go skipping hand in hand down darkening streets, deep into the rapture of evening.

We went tonight to an exceptional vegan gluten-free organic restaurant, it was one of the best vegan dinners we’ve ever had, and the perfect place to enjoy a birthday meal. They let everyone bring in their wonderful dogs too, so I got to pet, coo, snuggle, play with, and smile at every kind of happy eager wagging tail jump up kissing lick magnificent darling dog present, Dylan and I both were giddy and glad. There’s beautiful regal stray cats proudly strolling and parading everywhere as well, but as I am severely allergic, I don’t cozy up with the felines.

Currently Dylan’s teaching an evening Ableton and music writing workshop in a packed large dark and cool club, which is pretty awesome, considering the fact that it’s Monday and midnight. The crowd is mostly attentive intelligent Jewish males, I am one of a handful of girls. Dylan began the lecture with thanking everyone for coming, and thanking his wonderful wife for letting him teach a workshop on her birthday. He gave me a rapid sideways kiss, everyone cheered and clapped, I grinned.

“Smile every once in a while,” I said to Dylan in a low voice, “Because sometimes when you talk, you seem stiff and impatient and too serious, you don’t seem stoked or glad.” “Yes,” said Dylan. “And don’t speak too quickly,” I said, “Because English is not the first language of people here.” “Yes,” said Dylan. “And I love you. Break all of the legs,” I said. “Yes,” said Dylan. My wifely duties thusly done, I winked with discreet and glorious meaning. What would Dylan do without me, I am in charge of so much of the fine print, I don’t just cut the man’s hair. Happy birthday to me! All my love from Tel Aviv.