An Attempt to Restart...

 So where has your faithful facebook correspondent been?

He's been exhausted. Writing about issues of this import is exhausting. Life's other tethers have called, and sometimes you just want to stop reading.

Books have been too exhausting the last few weeks, regardless of the subject. Instead: it's been catching up on The Crown, rewatching Bojack Horseman, listening to Elgar (don't ask), and generally trying to think about, well... anything else, anything at all, please let me not think about this, oh my god I hate this subject that endlessly obsesses me. And consequently, I've developed writers block.

I promised not to get mad, but I just had to defriend a few people who posted publicly that what was going on is a genocide, people for whom it might be inconvenient socially to rock the boat like that. We all have our red lines, this is mine. It's one thing to call it a genocide privately, I obviously don't like it but at least it's not direct incitement, but the best you can say about people who do it is that they're not serious people, maybe even juvenile, but the worst you can say? Well... it's a lot worse than calling them mere antisemites.

But getting angry is exactly what I'm trying to avoid. It's just too easy to get angry about these issues, and you do your best to keep a cool head even though there's an omnipresent urge to rage daily, weekly... hourly... because the wear and tear of these issues insist on themselves. It's impossible to go through Jewish areas without them discussed endlessly, and feeling forced to constantly affirm your commitment to this Israel side of this argument which frankly never deserved our full support.

All I know is that if I don't keep writing about it, if I don't keep thinking about it, the rage will come out in ways that are deeply unsettling.

More later I'm sure...