Friday, January 9, 2009
My girlfriend and I have a theory about the earth, that it is much like the human body with hotbeds of eruption and then landscapes of inactivity, that the body's greasy, sweaty areas of glandular excitement like the base of the nose with its blackheads, whiteheads, and pustules, or the tushy/vagina/penis region with all of its discharge, can be likened to those places on earth that host war and mayhem generation upon generation. Maybe there is some barometric hormonal earth thing going on that just keeps everyone in those regions all whizzed up.
This theory came about as we lay in bed and discussed Palestine and Jerusalem, the middle East in general, northern Ireland. The earth's equivalent of the back of a nostril, the mouth, the forehead, places always festering and in turmoil. And then there's Scandanavia. What goes on there? Scandanavia is the back of your hand, a thigh, a smooth and effortless place with nary a zit or boil.
I'm a Jew who certainly does not want to ever experience a genocide or pogrom or even a Bernie Madoff, on the other hand killing can't ever be right. Just as in a family in which hitting is never the answer, how can bombing alongside a school be the answer.
Then again, I'm too much of a Freudian to believe there ever will peace on earth. The earth will bubble over with aggression so long as beings inhabit it. The best we can hope for is to slow it down. Who knows. I am no politico. It just doesn't seem right. This violence. Violence begets more violence, does not make the world a safer or better place.
Meanwhile we have such a kitty saga going on. It will take days to tell. Until I begin that story I highly recommend eggplant parmesan with goat cheese instead of mozarella.
And Newman's Limeade mixed with Seltzer.
And warm sake.