Day 52: Gyrating hips and pepper spray.

My Jerusalem home.

Yesterday when I got here I did what I planned to do today. So today I will do what I planned to do yesterday. The Museum of Underground Prisoners opens at 0900, and it is almost that. I've had a couple of pieces of toast and some tea, plus my stomach is still reeling from the french fries, so I think I'll stop there for food. I'll go there and then to the Ticho House of modern art stuff (the second half is mine). This way I'll be in the area for lunch and can have vegetarian, if they are open.

They are setting up for a concert today, but I have no idea what it is. I have to imagine that it is for tonight.
The Museum of Underground Prisoners is closed today, and I'm too early for the Ticho House. So I just started walking because I never know what treasures I'll find. How many people get to go to the Museum of Psalms? Not many, I'd venture. The artwork was okay; there were four or five remarkable pieces. But overall the place is some kind of tax shelter or something.

There were so many things to see in the city, and, just like any other city, there are the tourist things and the local things. One of my favorite spots that I came across was a gathering point. I don't know what they gathered about or even who gathers, but there were these cool signs on the fence.

So I walked and walked and walked. And somehow I got to the old city. I ended up at the Damascus gate. At first the streets were empty, and I could stroll leisurely with the few
people on the streets. Unfortunately, there were many beggars. Since I was in the Arab Quarter they were Arab women. There were no Arab men begging there. I don't know what that means, but it definitely doesn't seem fair.


But as I got to the Arab market, fuck me, it was crowded. I don't like crowds to begin with because, really, what kind of control do I have over myself much less a bunch of strangers. The Arabs were just opening up their shops, and as I went further into the Old City the crowds grew. Did you know there is something special going on in the mosques in the Old City. Neither did I! But I was literally like a salmon in a stream, and I had to go with the flow.

And as the crowd grew I went into fight or flight mode, for sure. Luckily there was a side road to take to get out of the throng. It took me towards the Jewish Quarter, where there were a lot less people, so I just meandered my way through the streets of the Old City. So from there I started making my way to the Western Wall.

So as I got closer the energy was palpable. It was definitely time to get my Holy on. But when I got there I realized that no matter where I am I can be Holy. In fact, I think there was more and sincerer prayer in the desert. Not for the other many of persons who were praying because maybe they really mean it, the prayer I mean. But it was hard to watch people dress up in costume so that their, perhaps, selfish requests could be heard by God. What, is she not listening if I pray from the commode?

Where are the chicks? Oh, over on
other side. Well, then.

Since I was already profaning what should have been sacred (according to whom), I decided I was just there for the chicks. But they put this stupid divider up because those unclean women may spoil the good prayers, you know, the man prayers.


So I got to the wall and felt for a heartbeat. Nothing. I was dead. There was nothing sacred pumping through the wall or my body. I really do believe in God because it only makes sense to me. There cannot be something from nothing, and I can follow the path of our existence all the way back to stuff like dark matter. How'd it get here? I'm fine with God as an answer.


So I was done, but certainly not with God. But done. So I walked away. I walked around the old city for about two hours--regardless of what my last post said I do get misplaced sometimes. And I found a gate by which to leave. I left by the Dung Gate and walked all the way around to the Jaffa Gate. I swear it was all uphill!


I got to see Eastern Jerusalem and the Mount of Olives. I also got to see Absalom's Tomb, which I had seen years ago. The tomb inspired a series of drawings that culminated in this 4x6 feet drawing, where I used corrosion and oxidation to make the drawing. I miss making art.

I finally made it back to the city center. It was a long walk. I started at just past 0900 and sat down to eat my vegetarian lunch at almost 1300. I had two bottles of water between the start and the finish, but I was spent. The food is from the restaurant that I found yesterday. It was a pay by weight place. I could have gotten more, and I'm sure when I go back (it was that good) that I will.

I went up to my room to rest after lunch, and I woke up around 1530. About ten minutes later the concert started. It was literally across the way from my hostel. There were thousands of youngsters gyrating to some great music. There is nothing like a techno remix of "Smack My Bitch Up" to get me going, em hmm.
So I went out into the group, or, I should say on the periphery of the group, and got me some felafel for dinner. Then I went back up on the roof of the hostel to watch the show. It was so much fun and reminded me of my dancing days. Now I cannot be touched in a crowd like that, but really, thinking back, I was never a dancer like this either. I was a guy who would go out on the floor and flail and twist and not invite others to be near me. Because of the alternative music this was fine. But there were definitely times when I got into a mosh pit. Damn it was nice to get hit!

No good concert ends without at least one arrest. Because there has been so much contention between Arab and Jewish youths in Jerusalem I expected some boy fights. I am happy to say that I was disappointed. But there was a girl fight with about four girls. Two of them resisted some officers and got pepper sprayed for their ill-advised actions. They were not happy--the girls, the officers, or the crowd around them. I guess I didn't have to get into the mix, but I'm sure Mr. Murphy would understand my concern for the youths.