Welcome to Givat Chofesh, Republic of Texas
January 27th, 2008 by michael
As my esteemed compatriot Xanthippe noted in his preceding compendium of anticipated debauchery, we moved a while ago. After several years’ worth of living in often conflict-ridden metropolises, it was decided that we should pool our collective resources and find a nice quiet place to live in the country, a place where we could nurse our misanthropy, a place where nobody would bat an eyelid at downing an eye-opener upon arising in the mid-afternoon. And that’s how we found ourselves in the town we’ve dubbed Givat Chofesh, a Texas hamlet where the grass is brown, the skies blue, the breakfast tacos abundant, and the ratio of gas stations to registered sex offenders two-to-one. Demographic realities in our minuscule burg have allowed us to assume with confidence the mantles of Town Jew and Town Fairy, and between the thrill of once again being novelties and always getting 10% off at the liquor store because the owner’s taken a shine to us, we’re as happy as bivalves.
And since I know our surprisingly faithful readership loves to get a peek at the sordid, gin-soaked affair that is our lives, I’ve compiled a series of snapshots detailing existence as we know it in Givat Chofesh. Read on:
Main street, downtown Givat Chofesh. As with many small town downtowns, business is sparse and the facades weathered. I would launch into a furious screed about the deleterious effect of big box chain stores on small town America while furiously rubbing organic free-trade Hekhsher Tzedek coffee into my hoo-haa, but as I have neither a hoo-haa nor a fifth floor studio walk-up in Manhattan, I am not qualified to inform rural Americans what is, in fact, good for them.
Hedonistic decadence is the order of the day at the VFW.
The benefits of military service when you come from a small town include getting a monument even if you live.
Kind of a Roman thing going on here: the freestanding monumental arch leading to nowhere. Halakhic question: if your property contains an arch, gateway or doorpost that doesn’t go anywhere, do you have to put a mezuzah on it?
I’m the only Jew in Givat Chofesh, yet somehow there are still a hell of a lot of sabras.
Hell yeah, people keep pigs in the yard. Wanna make somethin’ of it? Other popular Givat Chofesh choices for yard-based livestock include goats and the ubiquitous chickens. I kind of want to dig a pit in the backyard, buy a goat from the neighbors and do it up proper-like with my excellent homemade jerk, the fellows, a case of Red Stripe and my seismic soundsystem.
Where we’ve been staying, the residence of Chris’s aunt, a nurse, and her longtime boyfriend, an affable Post-Impressionist painter with a taste for Miller High Life Lite. It’s something of a pocket-sized ranch; our room is a converted stable dating back to 1910, and the property includes a bunch of laying hens, peafowl, a mare, two ponies and way, way too fucking many semi-feral cats. The train runs by four or five times a day.
Medina, who is of the opinion that she deserves all kinds of carrot treats by virtue of waking up and deciding to be a horse. I indulge her.
בג”ח/Bagach/Beit Givat Chofesh: our new house. Three bedrooms, two bathrooms, a psychedelic interior paint scheme, and all for a fraction of the cost of city living. The yard contains a hilariously abortive attempt at a deck and a fat propane tank, which means I may finally begin to appreciate King of the Hill. Other hilarities of rural life include the septic tank, and few human utterances can inspire as much dread as “Damn septic tank’s backed up again!”, which is heard with alarming frequency back at the pocket ranch on the railroad tracks.
The roomy backyard, soon to house chickens and a vegetable and herb garden. I find any measure of self-sufficiency alluring. Should black-eyed peas be planted just in case the bluecoats comes tramping through again? Probably.
Hell of old-school cocktails.
The pernicious rhythms of race music; the seductive bite of the Sazerac. Lock up your daughters.
Once we finish moving in, we’ll treat votaries of KE to the virtual tour of Bagach and its Technicolor interior. Remember how it was when Dorothy stepped out of her house and suddenly everything suddenly was a brightly-colored, singing midget? That’s how it is when we step into ours. Stay tuned.
Posted in texas isn't like america |
January 27th, 2008 at 9:57
Holy crap, I am excited for my upcoming visit.
January 28th, 2008 at 6:45
You almost had me sold on abandoning my fifth floor studio walk-up in Manhattan. But in the absence of the free trade colonic… Cuz, you know–the septic tank’s backed up again…
Anyway, miss ya Mikey. Lemme know when the guest room’s ready.
January 28th, 2008 at 9:56
And to think that you used to scoff at Deerfield. DEERFIELD!
While you’re at it, kiddo, an address and/or phone number would be nice. Yes, you may avail yourself of e-mail to provide it.
January 28th, 2008 at 10:52
Except for the booze, you’ve hit my personal jackpot, lifestyle-wise. Bravo.
January 28th, 2008 at 15:01
My lady parts are tingling in anticipation.
January 30th, 2008 at 6:54
Interesting choice. And good luck on it: I especially envy you the garden. Chickens, however…
I’m opting for (Shuffling off to) Buffalo myself… Urban decay, dashed hopes of late Victorian Robber Barons, etc. One of my favourite bloggers insists that the Rust Belt is the place to live if you have nostalgia for early 80s NYC.
January 30th, 2008 at 9:48
Spring break ‘09 WOOO (only if you let me pet the neighbors pig SLYLY)
HUW- BUFFALO?!? WESTERN NY?!? As someone born and raised in western NY I wish you luck. I hope you enjoy hockey and beer.
January 30th, 2008 at 10:24
Eddie - Beer, yes. Hockey, not so much. Unless we mean the kind where the BF (in Hamilton, ON) is on skates… But seriously: I got tired of driving 18 hours each way for a date.
After I get on my feet, y’all are all invited to take a tour of Niagara Falls.
January 30th, 2008 at 12:05
Eddie-
The pig will probably SLYLY chase you.
Huw-
We will do it, but be careful before you offer to go to a public place with us.
February 11th, 2008 at 15:55
Michael, I saw a photograph you took in Israel in 2005 or 2006. I would like to talk to you about using it professionally. Can you please email me at the above address. Thanks.
February 16th, 2008 at 20:23
anybody know how to get a hold of Michael?
February 19th, 2008 at 16:16
look into the mirror and repeat his name three times.