South Philly v. Tel Aviv?

The weird thing is that after watching "Waltz With Bashir" an incredible animated documentary that opened at the New York Film Festival about the horrors of war and the Israeli filmmaker's experience as a soldier witnessing the Sabra and Shatila massacre in Lebanon, I missed Israel.

As usual.

It makes no fucking sense.

I had this sense of proximity, this "almost" feeling of what if I had chosen my life to be there, in a little house, with a hammock, with cigarettes and intense friendships and love affairs and conversations that last until the morning. The military a constant hum in the background, my kids running barefoot along the beach hopefully growing up to be refusniks.

Meanwhile, back in reality, on Tuesday, Isaac and I spent the day in South Philly looking at possible places to own and live in. Scary thing is that we really liked it. Amazing little houses, great atmosphere, delicious food, funny people, good bars ... and all the sudden my nightmare is manifesting: "I'll never live in Philly, ever, ever, ever" and well, we may actually do it.

WTF?