Prince of Tides
It is Pesach vacation, and I have come back from Eilat to fins Gila furious. It is an emergency situation, one that calls for being the best possible boyfriend. Not only do I like her and want to continue going out with her, but Dudi and I are supposed to spend Pesach seders at her Aunts house in Ramot. If I blow this, we may need to find another seder.
We decide to go to Tel Aviv for the day. Not the beach, though. She is mad, but I apologize, am charming, and win her back. We are walking around Tel Aviv and Prince of Tides is playing. I am not interested, but she is in the middle of the book, and wants to see the movie. We see the movie and I am bored. I don’t get it. She is disappointed, because the movie changes a lot of things from the book.
You may laugh at this now, but almost fifteen years later Prince of Tides has become one of my favorite books, and Pat Conroy is my favorite author. His depiction of the South, his mastery of the written word and his ability to use language and create mosaics where you can almost smell the South Carolina marshes are unparalleled.
The boy of fifteen years ago would never touch that book, the man today keeps the book near his bed, and flips through it frequently when he needs to be inspired by the beauty of language.
We talk about the movie, though, and I try to seem interested. Dudi and I are no longer in danger of finding a new Pesach Seder. We spend the rest of the day wlaking through Dizengoff, finding a place to eat, and walking some more.
Toward the end of the day, we walk along the boardwalk next to the beach. We stop to watch the waves. I don’t know this is a pivotal moment in the relationship. I think we are just watching waves. I think that I will never understand why women like these kinds of movies. I think that I am glad I still have a girlfriend.
She, too is watching the waves come up. She pulls her hand away and is crying. She has learned in seminary that as each wave come to the shore, it is trying to destroy the world. It is only through the Mitzvot of the Jewish people that the waves fall back. Maybe we are doing the wrong thing, she says. Maybe holding hands and watching movies on the couch is not the right way to conduct ourselves.
When you are a guy, and you are watching the ocean and thinking about how nice a day it is and you are confronted with the Shomer Negiah God talk, there is really only one rational course of action.
We decide to go to Tel Aviv for the day. Not the beach, though. She is mad, but I apologize, am charming, and win her back. We are walking around Tel Aviv and Prince of Tides is playing. I am not interested, but she is in the middle of the book, and wants to see the movie. We see the movie and I am bored. I don’t get it. She is disappointed, because the movie changes a lot of things from the book.
You may laugh at this now, but almost fifteen years later Prince of Tides has become one of my favorite books, and Pat Conroy is my favorite author. His depiction of the South, his mastery of the written word and his ability to use language and create mosaics where you can almost smell the South Carolina marshes are unparalleled.
The boy of fifteen years ago would never touch that book, the man today keeps the book near his bed, and flips through it frequently when he needs to be inspired by the beauty of language.
We talk about the movie, though, and I try to seem interested. Dudi and I are no longer in danger of finding a new Pesach Seder. We spend the rest of the day wlaking through Dizengoff, finding a place to eat, and walking some more.
Toward the end of the day, we walk along the boardwalk next to the beach. We stop to watch the waves. I don’t know this is a pivotal moment in the relationship. I think we are just watching waves. I think that I will never understand why women like these kinds of movies. I think that I am glad I still have a girlfriend.
She, too is watching the waves come up. She pulls her hand away and is crying. She has learned in seminary that as each wave come to the shore, it is trying to destroy the world. It is only through the Mitzvot of the Jewish people that the waves fall back. Maybe we are doing the wrong thing, she says. Maybe holding hands and watching movies on the couch is not the right way to conduct ourselves.
When you are a guy, and you are watching the ocean and thinking about how nice a day it is and you are confronted with the Shomer Negiah God talk, there is really only one rational course of action.
posted by Air Time at 4:03 PM
4 Comments:
Yes, buy the Gila Manolson book, "Can't Touch This!"
Yes,knock her up so that she can never go back to sem!!?!?!!?
Drink
The book is completely useless for a yeshiva boy.
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