He Who Lies With Butterflies Now

Six months ago, a man was beautiful. He had always been beautiful.

Six months ago, a man was so very happy. He was travelling the world, a very typical Israeli rite of passage before fully embracing adulthood, even though he'd been an adult for quite some time now. He laughed often.

Six months ago, the man had the best time meeting new people, trying out new foods, new belly ache reasons, basking in the glorious Asian sun. Basking anywhere really was something he had always been rather good at, instant napper that he was.

Six months ago today, a man was sleeping, early in the morning.

Six months ago today, the man was killed. Uzi, my Tig.

But he had been fast asleep. He HAD to have been fast asleep, despite his aching belly, so fast that when The Wave crashed on him, he barely would have had time to be frightened. He would have fought hard, oh he'd have fought so very hard, for he was a Silent Warrior. But it had to have been over swiftly. Oh please, that it was over swiftly.

Tig, this is for you. Let this be my gift to you. I still don't know what to do with myself. I still don't know how it is possible to go on without you. I still don't see how it will ever come to happen, how it will ever make any sense. Techiat hametim now. PLEASE. I have so many good things happening in my life, things you'd love, things that would make you laugh. I have so many new books that you simply must read. I have to tell you that I may be visiting Israel, that there is someone you will love to meet, you can roll your eyes at me together, and that we must sit outside your room eating garinim, drinking coke and beer and playing Risk. Do you remember how high our laughter echoes on the kibbutz, how time seems to move slower in those summer evenings, bringing even the matzav to a standstill? Remember how someone will sometimes walk by and say Erev tov or A'alan, and we'll say it back? How the cows mooing and the refet sounds blend in with our voices and everyone but me complains abt the smell? Do you remember how synaesthesially green the grass smells when the sprinklers go off and we all sit outside, sometimes silent, and into that silence cricket sounds spill and we think Life has to be the absolute best thing about living?

I keep it all in though. I've been keeping it all in, don't know why. I've hardly blogged or talked abt you for a good while now but the flashbacks have been back, the silent or not so silent movie running parallel to the rest of my mind, and I swallow back the tears very often these days. I don't want to cry over you anymore bcs I kill you every single time I do, and it kills me. Often I want to ring Lila but I don't. I want to write to her but I don't. I want to ring your mum but I don't. I rang L. though, on Yanniv's Jahrzeit. Didn't help much either, he was 23 years old. You were 28. Yanniv's been dead 5 years and you...

I suppose it's the six months. Half a year. Half a year is obscene in the sense that the earth has not derailed and how dared it not. I'm afraid I too will derail if I put it into words.

Ever since I wrote this, there have been butterflies everywhere I turn to, in clothes, houses, movies. I don't know if it's a new fashion trend but they are simply everywhere. Also outside my door, they fly about outside my door, sometimes alone, sometimes chasing each other. So I know you're around - but it's not enough, you see. It will never be enough.

Hysteria Lane

In am speechless, truly I am.

People, people, people... Don't you know me a bit by now? Allow me to introduce me:

Hullo, I'm the Lioness. I sometimes write posts abt Buffy, sharks and Clippy, the Office Assistant. Bcs I can, you see. It being my blog. And Buffy, sharks and Clippy are all rather fabulous in their own different ways [sadly, Clippy has been replaced in my affections by The Cat. The Cat meows, and scratches my screen and curls up to sleep when I stop writing. Such are the fickle ways of the world.] But what I’m locally known for though is the way I let things aggravate me, all sorts of things, ridiculous things at times - and when they do I go on and on and on abt them. Not bcs I can, see, but bcs I can NOT help myself. I absolutely cannot help myself. Most importantly, if you’ve been reading me with a modicum of attention you’ll have noticed I eat sarcasm for breakfast. It keeps my brain sharp and my waistline small.

So Dahlings, this is my question to you. Take a good look at the previous post, go on. It didn’t take much time did it. That's bcs it’s only two lines. Let me repeat that, IT’S ONLY TWO LINES!

*Holler*

HOW IN BLOODY HELL COULD YOU THINK I’D EVER MANAGE TO SAY GOODBYE IN TWO BLOODY LINES??

*/Holler*

I’d have to at least, AT LEAST, write 15 paragraphs where reasons would be detailed ad nauseam. Bcs I’d start right around the time Pangea ceased to be and work my way up to opposable thumbs wouldn’t I. And there’d be lots of links to previous posts and people, obviously. And I’d get all weepy and girly and flail my arms abt loads and try on different outfits bfr I finally settled on the very first one.

HAVE YOU LEARNT NOTHING? You’re all grounded. Go sit in the corner w the funny hat. Face the wall, NOW!

I meant, you bunch of hysterical creatures, that it seems I have lost my touch! Bcs, despite appearances to the contrary AS.I.TYPE, I cannot rant anymore!

[Excuse me while I get my bearings for a moment. My mother’s just rang me and said “Oh I’m on the way to the hairdresser’s bcs I cannot stand these colouring jobs they’ve been doing anymore, I’ll get a buzz haircut and then it will grow back normal.” A BUZZ HAIRCUT. You don’t know my mother. My mother dresses conservatively, silks, good cottons, authentic jewelery (the pieces she hasn’t finished distributing throughout the Portie Gas Station Bathroom Belt, that is), furs (let’s pretend I didn’t say that, they’re part of “my heritage” and fuck me if I know what I’ll do w them one day). So the haircut wouldn’t exactly fit in with the whole. Plus I’d have to be present to yell TIMBER! and break my father’s fall. I myself would probably be whimpering bcs, despite my personal feelings regarding said look (VILE), some people actually look rather fabulous with no hair or close to none. My mother is NOT one of them, she doesn’t have the bone structure for it. She’d look appallingly disease-ridden. Crisis averted, I got my voice back in time but am shaky. And worried. It will probably be one of those days, wonder how the sky looks at night…. It’s beginning to sound suspiciously like a full moon approaching.]


As I was saying, I No Can Rant No More. And that saddens me, and pains me, and shames me more than just a bit. Bcs sometimes things happen and I think “OH!” - but then… nothing. NOTHING. I feel my belly in the most medical way possible (we have a much better verb, we say “palpate”. Portie beats English at times, who knew! What, you don’t understand? Oh shut up.) - and there’s NO FIRE! The dragons are gone! That’s what I meant by this blog has left the building, you silly crop of souls! I am bored by it! And that’s not news, remember? REMEMBER??

Yes, I post pics w captions and little Talking Whatchamacallits, and I write abt Abanibi and the I Kiss You bloke - but that’s not really posting is it? NOT REALLY! That’s just white noise, and we all know what I like is a nice juicy black one, where everything is sucked in powerfully and, occasionally, cosmically eructed. I need to tell you abt the Moonlight Glistening Buttocks - and I cannot! I need to tell you abt an Anglo visitor I had and his peculiar sense of “guestness”, which involved a taxi driver, much alcohol, loads of rugby and me banging my head against every available, nail-infested surface - and I cannot! Not because I must study or have too much work - new translation job, excruciatingly booooring - see the pattern, dahlings? I simply CAN NOT. Gone. The bloody universe is conspiring against me!

Besides which, I just woke up - look here, I’ve barely finished my third coke and there are only seven ciggie butts in the ashtray! - and you’ve forced me to get my brain into gear and it doesn’t take kindly to that in the wee hours of the morrow. (Go here to see for yourselves how dramatic it is if you don’t believe me. Eyes swollen shut, much bumping against furniture and the most extraordinary head of bad bed hair that ever roamed the planet. Every day, every single day of the year.)

And now it gets personal:

(Txt Messages I had this morning)

Viscondessa, NO, I'm not going to quit blogging! For shame!
(Comments)

Jay, where the HELL have you been? Have you lost your commenting fingers? You are still hilarious - but what, since you’ve been to Chicago you’re to cool to post here? For shame!
Lorem Ipsum, I think you need a new vacation babe. For shame!
Chimmy Boy, you should also know better! For shame!
Ed, at least you partially got it. MILK? I’m not that much of an Anglophile, as it turns out For shame!
Beth, I’d stop blogging and not tell you?? For shame!
Elswhere, see, there are NO caustic notes left! For shame!
Trout, words fail me. For shame!
Eliyahu, huh? Who is? Cryptic Judaism now? Drink your tea. For shame!
Stacey, a woman after my own heart! But I never left! For shame!
Noorster, Noorster… You too should have known better! For shame!
Nuno, at least I got you to curse and delurk or whatever it is you do all the way down there in LA. But cursing?? I’m shocked. For shame!
Simone, WHO are you? Are you a *shudder* LURKER? This it took for you to surface? And now you'll re-lurk? For shame!
Ana, PREGGO BRAIN! For shame!
David, well, it’s a mystery! Ha, get it? For shame!

There, I feel better. You lot tire me. Here, I’m buying a round of caipirinhas (Ana, you just sniff). You need to chill, dahlings. Badly. But you made me laugh, there’s that. And the concern is lovely, if misguided. And if you don’t know what I’m alluding to in the title, shame on you and the mare you rode in on! GO GET THE SERIES NOW.

This blog seems to have quietly left the building

Sorry about that. It was awfully nice having you visit though. Final cuppa tea, anyone?

Bursting with Sabra pride!

The world will never be the same again.

I need to take a break from studying at times don't I. [Urinary system now, I know you care] And that means I use that time to check blogs doesn't it. And recently I've been trying to make someone understand just how glorious Khan (Here), by Duo Datz, is - it's an Israeli song from the 1991 Eurovision Festival. WhenI first moved to Israel I used to emotionally blackmail Lila and Idan whenever I got the chance into doing the song for me, coreography and all. They, bless them, DID it often. I even have (un-scanned) pics of them doing it on the terrace. I watched said festival w my Tweedle and we both fell in love w the song, which didn't win. Some Scandinavian rubbish did and we were livid. HOW COULD THEY!

I have been dreaming of Khan for years now and recently downloaded the audio file - oh the bliss! Oh the joy! Granted, the lyrics were a tad surprising to me, it's basically "Here I was born, here my children were too, here I built my house w my own hands, this is my home and fuck off already. " *Clears throat*

[I'd like to publicly thank Lila and Idan, Israeli lefties that they are, for singing the song over and over again just bcs I liked it. I remember Lila saying "But it's such a NASTY song, oy!" - I didn't speak any Hebrew then, remember? (As opposed to now - oh let's all laugh) I'd only just arrived in Israel! I didn't know what I was asking of them. So yes, terribly appreciated.]

Anyway, I was over at her site and wham bam Khan! (Khan is actually pronounced Like Kant, minus the T) Sarah links to a site where you can SEE all the Israeli songs, all of them! Even if you don't speak any Hebrew don't miss this, it's fantastically brilliant! There's Khan in 1991, Alleluya in 1979, Hora in 1982, Abanibi in 1978 - and this leads me to the reason I wanted to write this post. Even before my Jewish heritage meant anything to me I was addicted to Israeli songs. I even belonged to a children's group that rehearsed and put up a talent show, in which we sang - brace yourselves - Hava Naguila! YES! In a building that belonged to the church bcs it was the only one w a stage! In Catholic Portugal! And the priest was there and even helped us rehearse it and then sang along w us, tapping his foot! I've known the words to it forever bcs I was really small and I've loved it since. Same w Aleluya and Abanibi, I'd buy the records post festival and play them nonstop, in all its needle-scratchiness. And my Dad would sing along as well, as he should bcs he got the singing voice in the family.

I started watching the Abanibi clip just now and decided to google the lyrics bcs what the hell does abanibi mean?? Is it Aramaic? Didn't sound like it either but... Then I found this site and the world changed forever! It's the P Language - or what we call the P language at any rate. He's saying Ani ohev otach, I love you [male to female]! BB replace the first consonant of/are added to every vowel of every syllable! I GET IT!

Now go see the nice songs, aren’t they ab fab?? Do you see the clothes? The afros and big hair? The braces, the peasant skirts, the coreographies? Aren’t they all so bloody handsome? My Israelis are such smooth movers even w all that weight on their heads!

Kol HaKavod!

"I Kiss You!"

David has brightened up my day incommensurably!

[Hullo! This is Lioness' Lack Of Discipline speaking. She can't come to the phone right now, she is too busy NOT studying properly, ONCE AGAIN. She clearly overestimates the use of big words as a smokescreen.]

Please everyone, do yourselves a favour and go visit this bloke. Really, GO VISIT HIM, it's too delicious for words! Make sure you're not drinking or eating - and no, no human parasites involved, no worries. Just... Oh go see for yourselves and report back. Hysterical! UPDATE: he's working on another site. Wait him Pls!

I have been tagged w a book meme by Imshin and I know you want to know more abt the Moonlight Buttocks but I must bone up. Or pretend to. It really isn't going well, I suppose I'm just tired and unmotivated. We came back from the two-day mini break on the beach yesterday and now need a full week to recover from it, it was exhausting! Bloody cold Northern wind on day one, and too much beach on day two, we're knackered. The dog has barely been awake since yesterday evening and we could barely be bothered to eat. Can't wait for the full holiday.

On a sadder yet expected note, vomit/diarrhoea/colic/constipation are starting to lose their appeal. Sucks rock majorly, it does. Wake me up at the end of July please.

St Anthony, marriageable damsels and the shiny buttock.

Yesterday was St Anthony's day, Lisbon's patron saint. Traditionally, there's a lot of what we call Popular Marches, a pageant of sorts, and grilled sardines and peppers, and much alcohol, and everyone dumps their cars as close as they can to the old quarter of the city, Alfama, and walks up towards the castle. MAD. Why was this night different from every other night?

[Excuse me while I crack myself up over this sentence, smugly smuggled - hullo! - into a post abt St. Anthony]

Well, I WAS THERE. Yes. In keeping w my recently inaugurated campaign, Thou Too Shall Live a Little, Who Cares If Thou Flunkest Thy Year, I got out of the house. I did! And had fun. And paid an obscene amount of money for half a chicken, oh the change into Euros, don't let's start talking abt it. And was knackered pretty fast even though we didn't walk all the way up top the castle but bloody hell, was it exhausting! I only got to sleep at around 4 am and have been in a daze all day. But I won't tell you more abt last night right away bcs I'm going to the beach house till Wednesday so no time and no internet! No worries, Vomit, Colic and Constipation shall follow, I wouldn't dream of leaving them behind. Literally. I will update this post as soon as I can w the pics we took (vile sardines on bread, the Portie way, among others) and links so you understand what it is all abt. I will also tell you abt some how females sometimes have to resort to peeing ON THE STREET, much to their chagrin, and how their buttocks gleamed in the streetlights.

In the mean time, think of me enjoying my faithful trio while sunning myself on a beach. And revising my Faithful Trio while swimming in the ocean. And vaguely remembering my Faithful Trio while eating an icecream sandwich (Beth and DM, cheers! I'll think of you.) Oh the bliss... (Am almost afraid to write this bcs we know what happened last time I took a holiday right? But I'll be studying so it's not really a holiday so I shouldn't really worry but can't really blame me for having become a bit superstitious abt it right?)(Yesterday was Uzi's mum's birthday. I rang her and we had a really good talk. I miss them and Israel so much. I miss... You all know what I miss. I picked up the phone to dial the number and for the life of me couldn't remember the Israeli international code. And when I finally did, I couldn't remember her house number. Funny that.)

[Tertia, if you read this - and of course you will bcs you are so addicted to my blog - be a dahling and txt message me the news on Danae as soon as you find out on Wedn, I won't come in till really late and need, have to, MUST know. Tnx. Danae, St. Anthony is the patron saint of marriages also and I'll turn ecumenic for a bit in order to pull him into the loop bcs you do have a marriage and we know what should be added to it - so, Sto.António, have a care and do your Catholic magic. And sweetie, I WILL be keeping even the bloody sand crossed for you, here's to happy news. *raises the memory of yesterday's sangria*]

Cat's out of the bag... and in the drawer

Can you tell we have a brand new dig cam? No? Well we do!

I opened my closet to put away some underwear and the dark brown Black Plague clawed - literally - her way up the side of the drawer and this is what ensued:

She doesn't care much abt relocation but I don't care much for hair in my knickers so guess who won. I am still pissy abt having had to replace this bcs she decided to paw it till it fell off the bedside table and then had the absolute gall to be scared by the noise of shattering glass; and abt not sleeping bcs at around 4 am she regularly paws the bedroom closet door in order to be let in and go explore EVEN THOUGH SHE NEVER IS ALLOWED IN; and abt how regularly she decides she will not, NOT, I tell you, poop in the litter box bcs the other cat has the audacity to use it also and therefore the surrounding kitchen floor is the way to go; oh and while we're at it abt not being able to have the litterbox in the bathroom bcs then the whole bathroom floor PLUS rug are fair game, never the box; and abt her wanton and obsessive plastic-eating, photo-licking, written-on-paper-chewing behaviour.

I will be such a good vet one day!

Happy endings

THE TRIVIAL - I'm Number one! And have you taken a good look at my travelling companions, as it were? I'm so happy to be on the metaphorical side of that.

THE DEADLY SERIOUS - My Tweedle's boyfriend had a recurrence of his 2003-diagnosed brain tumour, an oligodendroglioma. He'd had surgery and it was a huge thing, 8 cm (3.15 inches), but low malignancy (T2), much to the doctors' surprise. He had radiation also and things seemed alright. About a week ago they were having dinner and he started slurring his speech and lost upper body motor control. We feared he might be brain-bleeding so off to the ER it was.

[BRIEF DETOUR: when you get your driving license and then NOT drive at all, do not expect your best friend to be particularly kind when you have trouble getting the car in the garage bcs driving skills, unlike mana, do not fall from the sky, and people also learn how to drive in order to be better prepared for emergencies, especially when one lives outside of Lisbon and one's hospital is in Lisbon. And when the words "brain hemmorrhage" are actually said outloud, kindly refrain from. WASTING ANY TIME swapping account numbers - WTF??? - and kindly get your ass out the door and into a taxi as soon as possible bcs, you know, had he been BLEEDING FROM HIS BRAIN he might just have ended up on the floor convulsing for dear life AND HOW OLD ARE BOTH OF YOU AGAIN? So yes, I will not be in the best mood possible when you leisurely show up ONE FULL HOUR LATER when the drive takes only abt 15 min at that hour and what part of BRAIN HEMMORHAGE did you fail to understand? And yes, I am using the internet to shame you. Bite me.]

He was given anti-convulsants and told to see his own Dr, which he did the next day, at which point a nice hospital bed and menu became mandatory. He had surgery this Monday and it was a big tumour again, 6 cm x 3 cm (2.36 x 1.18), but no lung metastases so we think low malignancy again, same tumour. He, being strong as a bloody water buffalo, wakes up from every general anaesthesia hollering for a juicy steak, and avidly negotiates solid food with the nurses - invariably losing - while in the ICU. He was discharged yesterday - strong as a water buffalo, as I said - and today is his birthday, so that was one marvellous thing. Chemo will start soon and hopefully, this will be the end of it. And yes, he may even want some steak to go w it. Or so I’m hoping. But if he does vomit, I'm sure I'll be by then fully able to explain to him EXACTLY HOW VOMIT WORKS, and he'll feel that much better.

I haven’t written abt it bcs frankly, I couldn’t. ENOUGH OF THE BLOODY MISERY ALREADY FOR FUCK'S SAKE! My poor Tweedle. Well, my poor Tweedle is one hell of a warrior and has been taking this fabulously, as Tweedles are wont to, to the extent that she is actually, and has been, feeling rather good and not unduly stressed. This too shall pass and in the meantime, there’s Shiatsu and drinks with the girls. More power to her. Long live the caipirinha! [Ky-pee-ree-ña, made w cachaça (kuh-sha-suh). Should be served in an old fashioned glass, use wooden pestles only.]

This is a painting called Fame, Fortune and Glory by Jayr Peny, a Brazilian who now lives in Portugal:

We can all use some beauty, and copious amounts of alcohol, I think.

Shabbat shalom.

Exams

Don't be worried bcs I'm not posting or commenting much, exams are hideous and I have some thinking to do re vet school and how I am best to accomplish finishing it without destroying myself in the process. So far, I have 7 more exams till the end of July, and 13 exams coming up in September for 4 subjects - 3 for Bones, 5 for Pharm, 3 for Biochem and 2 for Microbiology. Fun. I can't very well imagine I will pass them all so some will surely be repeated in October/November, maybe even more than I expect bcs some teachers make you repeat ALL exams even if you've passed some in the group already. Why not. That's why I have 5 Pharm ones, bcs what would be the point of trying now and say, passing 4 of them, to have to re-do all 5 in Sept? And it's not a subject I find terribly easy at that, loads of drugs names to memorise. I really feel like weeping and just throwing myself in the bloody river more often than I care to think of. I need to pass bones or I will flunk the year right there. But we've had curricular changes which means that we've had some new subjects added to the course load bcs really, we didn't have enough exams as it is, and I am now wondering whether I should just skip some September exams and do those subjects and the new ones lumped together bcs nothing drags you down faster in this degree than having subjects from years past undone. And that would mean delaying graduation by one year, which would suck rock but would maybe enable me to have a more normal life, work more and make more money, and actually leave the house once in a while. So yes, not much coherence or time right now.

The Furball In My Mental Flower Bed

Hey! Ready-made furballs, GIVE HERE!

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No, no, you're holding it wrong!

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Nu, where's the filling?

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No thank you, I've had enough for now.

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[Burp]

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Get me some digestive enzymes, STAT.

Wha??