much ado

so i spent a whole morning and a half apartment-hunting in Tsfat, and am now the proud renter of my very own place. this russian guy who randomly approached me and started speaking to me in russian (apparently i look it…hm) told me i should speak to this woman who would put me in touch with another woman who rented rooms out. raaaiiight, i thought to myself…but she turned out to be my lucky ticket, because after meeting with my current landlady, i knew it was meant to be. i’m moving into a cozy little nest tucked away on a street facing the mountains; i have a bedroom ALL TO MYSELF (i have not had this luxury in the 6 months i have been traveling—just saying it is music to my ears), a separate kitchen, and an upstairs balcony/lounge area with sofas and a view. the lease-signing was my favorite part: i brought my israeli friend Eden to help sort out the details (because my landlady doesn’t really speak english), and she tore out a piece of notepaper and proceeded to write out my “lease” (a one-month contract outlining what our responsibilities are) in hebrew. after 10 minutes of her and Eden yak-yak-yakking away (and me standing in the corner with a stupid grin on my face), she handed me the paper to sign, and with utmost trust in Eden’s consent, i signed my name to my very own, official, israeli lease. which i can’t even read or understand, if i tried. only in israel. only in israel.

other than that, i spent the day helping Eden finish up some commissioned sculptures he needs to ship off by the end of the week, so it’s a throwback to my portfolio days in university when life consisted of cramming art into every spare second of the day not wasted on sleep or snacking. forget about going to the bathroom; we become superhuman in these times of extreme stress. while he is still figuring out some engineering technicalities, i have been designated star painter and fixer-upper, lucky me, i get to breathe noxious oil-paint fumes all day in a cold and unventilated cave. reminds me so much of those long nights in the printmaking studio, i’m almost heartsick with nostalgia for sackville, and going down for that well-earned pint at Ducky’s covered in ink and paint and scraps, and feeling like a million pennies. 

 anyway, my own work has taken a temporary back seat, but will be resumed as early as next week, once i scrub down and clean out his filthy studio, and make way for my own junk. i am gearing up for a long 5 weeks of hardcore creativity, and something like solitude…and hopefully, hopefully, i will break even in the financial scales that glare at me from my bank account every time i dare steal a glance.  

 i’m still dreaming of the sri lankan beach as i stare out at the misty almost-snow; my memories are over-exposed and over-saturated, technicolor on LSD, and i’ve been finding myself retreat into my head while the grey happens on around me in a fog. 

 too much, too much…life is too much.