Magnum opus

  I’ll translate the previous post later, first I want to write about ereyestreen, which was pretty great.

  Taylor invited me to his birthday celebrations which were supposed to take place at 22:00 (later moved half an hour forward, after having moved from the Yarkon Park to Rothschild Avenue in Tel-Aviv). I finished work at 17:30, leaving me a long period of waiting for the party itself, so I sat in Steimatzky (book shop chain) for a while, then left for the Karmelit bus terminal in Tel-Aviv, meeting a friend on the bus by sheer coïncidence, and my other friend Michal Zechariah (a.k.a. Sister Grimm) and two friends of hers, Daniel and Yonatan. I immediately commented on her fine clothing, and she said that Daniel and Yonatan said nothing till she asked them, so I said that it was because I was bi. Amusingly, Yonatan said he was trying to see how long it takes people he meets for the first time to tell him their sexual orientation and that I was way below average, but I said I’d mentioned it because it was relevant.

  The reason I’m telling you this is because Michal is a poet. She was invited to a poetry reading, to which she invited me, so I came along with her to Jaffa, where the reading took place.

  We chatted a bit with the taxi driver who took us there. He said he’d written a book of his own but it was turned down, and asked Michal to recite a poem for him. She said no, so I, wanting to make her feel more confident, said I remember a poem I’d written by heart and could recite it. It was a responce I’d written to a poem by Altermann published posthumously which I’d even translated to English (look back at my archive from September ‘09). My poem was four lines long, and is literally translated thus: ‘Quoth the devil: I shall increase / My  function and output, / And robbed man altogether / Of his sense of doubt.’ I was complimented on it, but Michal still wouldn’t recite her poem. The driver told us he was glad such cultured people as us were there, as the usual crowd he drives are barbaric, loud, violent youngsters. He mentioned how one time a young man had showed off his penknife, saying he’d use it in the club in case he were attacked...

  He let us off at the café/bookshop at Jaffa, where the poetry reading was to take place. Just to illustrate: Jaffa is a mostly Arabic town, and I was in uniform. At least I was somewhat relieved by the presence of a Christmas tree there and my knowledge of Arabic (which was actually kinda risky...). Then we walked around Jaffa for a while, discussing some history on the way; Michal said that you can make a rule of thumb and see that those who lead all the revolutions were left-wingers, while I said that these revolutions were generally bloody, resulted in tyranny, and reverted after a while (e.g. the French and Russian revolutions). Now that I think of it, the Ayatollahs in Iran were right-wingers... We also discussed racism in Israel: I said I couldn’t discuss the subject as I have no perspective, Michal said that nowadays people allow themselves to vocalise a lot more dangerous views, and I said that at least the Mizrakhi Jews are not discriminated like they used to be.

  After some walking astray we came back to the café just a bit before 20:00, when it was scheduled to start. It didn’t, so I took a long look at the various books, but didn’t get any, as they weren’t second-hand as I’d thought at first and were frankly quite expensive. So I sat next to Michal and her friends, discussing with her a surprisingly interesting idea someone mentioned in a reply to the infamous ‘Pagan Atheists’ vid on YouTube: that an atheist can be a part of any religion, so long as s/he sees it as a symbol and not take it literally (for instance, that God represents higher morals, and Jesus is just a good mentor). She protested, and it became a minor heated debate, then someone came up to her and told her how she should phrase the invitation for the next poet to come (every poet was invited to the stage by the one before him/her). He asked to be invited using a rather pompous which I can’t exactly translate (ya‘ale veyavo, יַעֲלֶה וְיָבוֹא) and to be referred to as ‘film-maker and poet Oren Ben Simon’, but was told she could make free variation of the phrase. I joked about the phrase pretty brutally, thinking up all sorts of varieties for the phrase, including pretending to summon the poet like a dead spirit, and the show finally began.

  The first poet came to thank everyone for coming, then mentioned how he’d asked the owner of the place to recite a poem in Arabic, a suggestion the owner declined, and asked in Arabic who in the audience spoke Arabic. I said in Arabic that I spoke a little and mentioned I’d written some poetry in Arabic, and when asked to recite I said I was short on time. One of the participants rather rudely mentioned that I was a soldier, also in Arabic, and I said I’d discuss this later (with little to no intention to follow through).

  The first poet recited two poems, I can only recall one; it was a reference to Bialik’s poem Let Me Under Thy Wing. He was really good, and so was the poet after. Michal came on third and read very good poems (I can’t usually relate to her poetry, but I liked the ones she read; she in return commented on how she loved my work), mostly about religious themes, fears and the like, then summoned the next poet (she skipped any silly variation of the phrasing), who, unlike the surprisingly good and not ridiculously pompous poets before him, read a terrible piece about how governments and ‘the system’ are all a scam. I looked at Michal and pointed at my open mouth to show my dissatisfaction with the given work, to which she responded with something like, ‘Ugh, come on...’, but it seemed I was not the only one who felt this way: someone at our table had a very unmistakable expression of ‘oh no, you can’t be serious...’ on his face. The next poem was a reference to the Pygmalion myth, which was really good, and he invited the next poet with the same phrase, so I realised it wasn’t as cheesy as I had originally found it.

  I don’t quite remember all the poets that performed there. I do remember that some time after the next poet came a rather young girl (I suppose in her early twenties) and read two poems. The first was a very disturbing poem involving a giant clitoris, the second was named Bang Bang, a phrase she repeated several times throughout the poem, involving vomiting in a toilet somewhere. She wasn’t very beautiful by ‘normal’ standards, but had a very attractive, determined and confident attitude. Later on a more famous poet named ‘Oded Karmeli came on and read very abstract and confusing poems, which sounded very good (to the point he read the first one, something about flesh and time and the universe and loneliness and ending with the line ‘The Universe has no opposition’), only I couldn’t understand a thing. There was also some Mizrakhi banker who came on stage and practically mumbled a bunch of terrible, terrible poetry, and I barely managed not to laugh; it was very ironic in light of the conversation about Mizrakhi Jews and racism earlier. I wanted to say some racist joke to Michal, but she couldn’t hear and I decided not to risk it.

  All in all it was a good evening. It was far less pompous and left-wing inclined than I’d expected it to be (well, there was one really bad poet who cheesily apologised to the Arabs for everything Israel did to them and made a complete fool of himself in my eyes).

  But the evening highlight was when I grew a pair of steel balls, and between poets (I think it was after Karmeli; I think he came after the terrible banker, but I’m not sure) I went outside, got everyone’s attention, and said I had to leave, but had enough time to recite one short poem. I’d expected to recite it briefly at the door, but was invited in to recite as one of the poets. I said in Arabic that it was a poem I’d written as a twelfth grader (much later I recalled it was actually tenth), at a time I had been influenced by Buddhist thinking, and recited a rubá‘í I felt somewhat insecure about (I thought it was somewhat emo), literally translated: ‘I look out the door in sadness, / I do not speak to people; / “This is the solemn ‘Dew World’ [a term referring to this world and its transience],” / I think and drink out of my glass.’ I was applauded, and, using the momentum, mentioned my blog and my poetry on commission services. Michal seemed somewhat dissatisfied, so I said jokingly, ‘Fine, I’m doing some self-advertisement, sue me!’

  I came out, wondering if I should catch a cab or wait for the bus (an idea I was very much against due to the fact I was in uniform and surrounded by Arabs), and after little waiting Michal, Yonatan, and Daniel came out. Michal scolded me for my actions (‘Not all stages are yours’), noting how the place had been full of big-shots of the Israeli poetry scene, though Daniel differed. We went to get some ice cream, then briefly came back; Karmeli asked me for my name (‘Say, Magnum [I had told them my blog’s name was Magnum Opus], you never mentioned your name...’), so I told him I go by Shunra. He asked for my real name, which I told him I don’t give away so easily (I don’t, not even IRL―it usually takes people months, sometimes years, to find out my real name: this started out as I, influenced by the attitude the children in my horrid elementary had, believed giving out my detestable real name would make people use it against me, but stayed with me because I found it to be a nice gimmick). He didn’t dwell on it, unlike most people, and when I told Michal about it, she was somewhat confused about it at first, saying nothing for a few seconds, then said, ‘Scratch what I said at first: do whatever works for you, but I’m not bringing you to such events anymore.’ I was mostly amused by it, and nonetheless satisfied with my actions: you only live once, and I’m pretty sure I would not need to do something like that in the future, as this act must’ve made me quite unforgettible to all those present. Besides, aren’t poets supposed to be eccentric?

  After that we went to the Karmelit by foot. It was about 21:00. Daniel and I started talking, and he turned out to be a very interesting person, even having some command of Latin. We talked about linguistics and classic studies (can’t remember everything in full, but I’ll give you the one tip I learned from him: if you’re going to classic studies in TAU and you got the Argentinian professor there, you’re screwed). We reached the Karmelit and split up, Michal, Yonatan, and Daniel took a bus to Kfar-Saba(?), while I went by foot to Taylor’s birthday celebration.

  Unfortunately, I barely had any time to stay there, having time only to meet Taylor’s friends at the entrance to the Moses restaurant at Rothschild Avenue as well as a very charming acquaintance of his... I had to go and catch the last bus, which was to leave in no-time, so I left very early, but all in all, I thought it had been a wonderful day.

  Unum diem...

  (P.S.: This is a perfect post for demonstrating to junior high and high school students the usage of the English past perfect, isn’t it?...)

  EDIT: Michal told me ‘Oded spells his last name with a C, and the girl’s name is ‘Adi and she’s 25 or 26. ‘Oded’s poem is from his new book, The Universe Has No Opposition (לַיְּקוּם אֵין אוֹפּוֹזִיצִיָה, LaYekum En Oppozitsia), which she says is wonderful.

  EDIT 16.1.11: ‘Oded Carmeli invited me to another poetry reading event. I’m making a name for myself already...