new

Metal

Every time is like the first time. Palms shaking and sweaty, heart pounding away in my chest so loudly that I’m sure everyone can hear, my face getting red with fear.  The gloved hands approaching my face, that long needle covered in plastic drawing nearer and nearer. Just like every other time, I screw my eyes shut tight, and hold my breath.

Pain, exquisitly sharp and focused, as the needle goes through the skin, breaking it completely. Another burst of pain as the needle is taken out and the metal bar is put in. Until this moment, it is all the same every single time.

But after… Well, after is a different story. After the piercing process is done, I can breath a sigh of relief and smile, looking at the newest metal piece in my body. I carry the dull ache of the new hole all day and the days that follow, but it doesn’t bother me so much anymore, because I’ve done it before and I know how to deal with it. It’s the fear of the pain that makes those few minutes on the piercer’s table so awful every time.

My total count is now eleven, three in the face, eight in the ears. Eleven is a good number.

Cops are… helpful? What’s happened to the world?

I have great belief in the police force. Ok. Well. That’s a lie. I’ve never had to deal with them all that much, but watching The Wire does put our boys in blue in perspective. Mostly cause half of them aren’t even in blue. Decieving buggers.

Tonight though, I encountered two policemen doing very unexpected things. I was driving with Ms. M and Mr. B. B. and I was standing at a stoplight, waiting for the green light. Of course, because this is Israel, a woman in a hideous white SUV tried to push in front of me so she could turn left. A cop car was a few cars behind me, and a very pissed off elderly cop actually made the effort to get out of his car and go up to her window and yell at her to get back into her lane and not inconvenience everyone else and hold up traffic. Of course she ended up turning left illeagaly anyway, but still, the point was made.

The second thing that happened tonight was again, at a stoplight. This time the squad car was in front. A man walked up to the window and seemingly asked directions. Then he smilingly got into the front seat of the car. Meaning the policeman inside offered a lift. This is another piece of courtesy that is unknown of here.

Next post might or might not mention if Paul McCartney was or was not assassinated during his concert here that is tomorrow night.