#All that being pissed out I want to say I'm fucking stoked for the music and the updated graphics and I hope they do some justice to sh2

[liminalhymnal]

Silent Hill enjoyers may hate me on this one but I'm not a fan of what I've seen Bloober doing on that there remake so I'm gonna be a hater to myself under the cut.

It looks like Homecoming/Resident Evil....bruh it's got qte's??? Will James also do sick-ass knife combos? WILL I GET GRADED RANKS AT THE END OF EACH MISSION?? WILL A VISIBLE TIMER POP UP DURING THE FIRST PYRAMID FIGHT???

I don't want to seem snobbish but with a classic like sh2 you can't just change the genre. Its supposed to be a psychological horror. Not Objective: Survive action-horror. Resident Evil is about zombies so ofc its gonna be full of action. But Silent Hill 2 is mainly first-and-foremost about the horrors of self-reflection and introspection with just a bit of cult shit thrown in at times for backstory on how the town does wacky shit to folks sometimes.

And that also troubles me; Bloober isn't good at handling the subjects that Silent Hill plays on. I'm not saying it has to be a 100% pure remake with zero changes at all, but if they fuck up the original tones of the characters like Angela or anything involving Mary I am pretty sure I will Kill.

I wanted to be hopeful for that new free to play Silent Hill too, but I feel like it's pretty similar to every other scary game out there nowadays. Everything was just so...obvious and not handled well at all. Like covering things with blood or the fuckin...."Silent Hill Phenomenon" they dropped in there and the whole MeNtAl IllneSs ScAwY thing. It focuses on the adrenaline you get from being suddenly scared (loud noise, sudden thing happening, getting chased) instead of the adrenaline you get from being unsettled (creepy atmosphere, subtle dialogue and storytelling that hint to darker implications), which lessens the impact because only the latter fear lingers with you as you play. The former just keeps you anticipating a qte or jumpscare. The dialogue is also cheesy and generic, like compared to sh3 Heather, who sounded like a real teenager and not one pulled off a Netflix original. While the franchise can be silly at times, like the infamous pizza line that pops up in Sh2, you gotta keep janky stuff like that to a minimum or else it ruins the vibe. Just...good lord man if you make your whole schtick about suicide then you should at least try to handle it decently and not give me a playable anti-bullying PSA written by an AI trained on Marvel sitcoms. I DON'T CARE IF ITS YURI, FIND BETTER YURI

[janekfan]

I'm a little hesitant about this prompt, because it might need a longer story to fill it, but based on reading your fics it may be to your taste for h/c? I've seen a few Geraskier stories where Geralt is cursed to lose his sight and hearing, but I'd be interested to read one where it's Jaskier who's cursed instead. You seem to like exploring growth in stories, and I could see Geralt having to step outside his comfort zone, learning to help and support Jask while they try to break the curse.

I was inspired by this prompt because in my youth, when families go to water parks and things, my mother insisted on holding my glasses so I wouldn't lose them, not realizing I cannot see hardly ANYTHING without them, just colors. She left me like half a dozen times in a throng of people and it was scary. And even though I kept telling her I couldn't SEE HER, she wouldn't listen. I felt scared and stupid because I couldn't keep track of my family.

So I hope you enjoy :D

Thank you for the prompt! @obscurebookwyrm

Sankofa

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25965268/chapters/63119659

“Geralt.”

“Hm.”

“I. What do you want me to say?” Jaskier’s grip on his lute tightened and he had to forcibly relax himself so as not to snap it in twain. “That you should have gotten hit with it instead? That you should be the one waiting for the effects of a curse to take hold so that I? The mighty bard can be the one to protect us both?”

“Hm.”

“Need I remind you that had you not pissed her off, we wouldn’t even be here?”

“Hm.”

“Fine. Leave me at the next village and I’ll just succumb to whatever this ends up being while you continue witchering or whatever.”

“Hm.” Roach picked up her pace and he could hear Jaskier curse Geralt’s stubbornness as he loped after them.

Geralt was angry. Angrier than usual with the musician and definitely not impressed with his self sacrifice because now, if anything, he would be an even bigger liability. It was bad enough he fumbled along behind him, constantly jabbering, writing the most ridiculous songs. But now, Geralt had to wait and see what would become of him now that he’d been hit with some unnamed affliction. Geralt refused to admit that Jaskier was right. That it was better that the stronger of them was curse free and able to continue on unimpaired.

But he was now an even larger inconvenience and Geralt hadn’t thought that was possible.

And yet.

As brave a face as he was putting on, he could smell the sour scent of anxiousness as Jaskier filled up the silence with more talk about inane things, stray lyrics, random observations, all because he was nervous.

Nothing happened yet. Maybe nothing would happen at all.

“Geralt.” Even and steady, Jaskier’s voice hovered somewhere to the left of him. There was something strange about the quality of it and it immediately set Geralt on edge.

“What?” He couldn’t help the exasperation, it had been a long few days, and he felt Jaskier tense beside him on his bed roll.

“There.” He paused and Geralt knew if he turned to look at him he’d be worrying his lip between his teeth.

“What?” They were late as it is, the sun three fingers above the horizon already.

“There are no stars.” His whispering was shaky and trembling. Fear. It was flooding Geralt’s sensitive nose. What was this lunatic on about? Of course there weren’t any stars.

“It’s late morning. Of course there aren’t.” He rolled his eyes and began packing up camp. They’d eat on the move to make up for lost time. He nudged Jaskier with the toe of his boot. “Get up. You’re wasting daylight.”

“Daylight.” His hand was hovering over his face and he kicked him a little harder.

“Yes. Daylight. Move or stay here, but I’m leaving.” Instead of following his directions, Jaskier swallowed a few times, blinking hard and staring at his palm in between. “Jaskier.” Growling, grabbing the collar of his chemise and slinging him to his feet himself, confused when his arms shot out for balance and he nearly fell. “What are you--are you drunk?” No. He’d smell it. But it was all becoming a little too clear and Geralt didn’t want to be the one to say it aloud.

“No.” A weak exhale, a disbelieving laugh. “I’m. I’m blind.”

Blind.

The curse.

“Are you sure?” Geralt was a hair's breadth away from his face, examining his eyes, blank and vacant and staring off into the distance despite their proximity. There was nothing wrong that he could tell. Still the same cornflower blue he was so familiar with.

“I think I’d know.” He scoffed.

“Then we’d better get moving.” Geralt couldn’t help it, the thread of anger twisting around his words just happened. All Jaskier seemed to do was slow him down and get in the way. “Find a way to break this thing.” It took the bard three times longer to pack his belongings and Geralt became more impatient every time he dropped something or stubbed his toe or lost his balance. He knew it wasn’t fair. But this was all the bard’s fault in the first place and he’d have to deal with the consequences.

Jaskier played his lute even more and was even slower, not yet sure on his feet without the advantage of sight. Geralt saw that he kept his ear canted towards Roach’s hooves crunching on the stones, using her as a guide and he wondered if maybe Jaskier should be riding her instead. The music he was picking out on his strings was simpler and felt more like practice than anything new and he realized that he was comforting himself with easy exercises and wondered how long he’d insist on doing it.

All day, it turned out, and Geralt was just about on his last nerve, turning his irritability into action by setting up camp and batting Jaskier out of his way, finally just sitting him in the dirt. He stoked up the fire, tossed down Jaskier’s bedroll and stalked off to find dinner and clear his head before he started yelling.

When he returned with a brace of rabbits, Jaskier was gone and Geralt swallowed down the spike of panic in his throat, dropping his catch and looking for signs of a struggle and instead finding odd marks that looked like Jaskier had crawled across the ground. And he found him, cowering amid Roach’s legs, a dangerous spot for probably anyone else, but she was as calm as ever, letting him stroke the length of her forelimb. There were drying tear tracks on his face.

“G’Geralt?” His voice was small and wavering, barely above his shaking breath.

“Who else would it be?”

“I didn’t know where you’d gone.” He didn’t leave the horse. “I, I called out. But. And then. There’s a lot of noises in the woods at night.” This laugh was self deprecating, as though he knew how ridiculous he was being, like a child hiding from shadows.

But his whole world was in shadow.

“You’ve camped before. It’s foolish to be afraid.”

“Y’yeah. Of course it is.” He extricated himself from his position beneath Roach, petting her neck, and Geralt let it be. “Thank you for your protection, good lady.” She lipped the collar of his doublet and he rested his cheek on her velvet nose for just a moment before stumbling back to his bedroll.

“Here.” Jaskier looked confused. “The rabbit. Dinner?”

“Oh, uh.” He reached out, drawing his hand quickly back when he burned the tips of his fingers and slipping them into his mouth for a second. “Ha, it’s hot.” Geralt yanked his wrist and pressed the stick he’d roasted the meat on against his palm and watched Jaskier’s fingers wrap around it reflexively.

“Just eat. We’ll figure this out tomorrow.”

They didn’t. Not the next day, nor the day after that, but Jaskier was trying to adjust more and more each day despite how he seemed to be withdrawing. It was easy to forget he was blind and Geralt was easily frustrated by his sense of direction, or rather the awful lack of it. More than once, he’d misjudged the path and toppled into the bushes. Twice, Geralt had come back from a hunt to find him trapped in the corner of their rented room. He’d gotten turned around and hadn’t been able to figure out how he was boxed in by the bed, the small table, a chair. Jaskier laughed it off.

He’d been upset each time.

At the market the next day, Geralt told him off handedly that he was heading to the blacksmith, and to catch up when he was ready, because usually he wanted to dither about at the stalls looking at some trinket or another. When he’d finally realized, tapping his foot and waiting for a blind man who didn’t know his way around this village to somehow find him, he followed his scent, laced with terror, to an alley where he’d pressed himself up tight to the wall, protecting his back. They didn’t speak, Geralt just grabbed his wrist and dragged him back to the room. Told him to stay there if he couldn’t figure out how to find his way around.

The hurt on his face cut like a blade.

“Get down and stay down.” Geralt shoved Jaskier’s face into the dirt, both of them narrowly avoiding decapitation when the beast attacked out of nowhere. Caught flat footed, Geralt found himself pinned to the ground, struggling under the weight of it and hooking his thumbs in the corners of its maw to keep the teeth from closing around his head. Fetid breath came closer and closer and he thought for a moment this might be it when the resounding crack of a tree limb colliding with the side of its skull stunned it enough for Geralt to kick it off him. He used the momentum to roll and draw his steel sword, cutting off its head with a wet and sickening squelch.

“Geralt?” Jaskier, covered in black ichor and mud, stood swaying in the road, clinging to a length of splintered wood, blind eyes wide with shock. And then, panting with horror, Jaskier fainted dead away.

He’d lost him again.

“Fuck.” Geralt didn’t know where or how long ago and began retracing his steps, scenting the air and picking up the faintest traces of the oils he’d used last night in the bath. It was tainted by the smell of fear, acrid and sharp, and he ran.

Saw Jaskier pinned up against a wall by a larger man than he, a broad, ugly hand clasped over his mouth and a knee between his thighs. He was struggling to breathe, high pitched whimpering slipped from behind his attacker’s palm and he grabbed a fistful of hair to slam the back of Jaskier’s head into the wall behind him.

The brute didn’t notice the knife slipped between his ribs until it was too late. He’d die in this place and Geralt wasn’t going to lose any sleep over it.

“Who--” He sobbed, choked. “Geralt?” Tears cascaded down his cheeks, slipped off his chin.

“Who was that?” Why couldn’t he be kind to Jaskier when he needed it most? Why did he let his own fear of the situation manifest as blame?

“He’d. Solicited me in the tavern and I told him no.” He shuddered. “I thought he might be following but.” He swallowed with a wet click. “You were walking so fast, I lost the sound of your steps.” Drawing a sharp intake of breath he swept a hand through his tousled hair, trying to calm himself down. Geralt could hear his heartbeat hammering madly away behind his breastbone.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Jaskier flinched at his volume, hugging himself around his middle and casting his face to the ground, and if Geralt was a stronger man he would tell his bard that this was not his fault. That he was scared of what he almost let happen.

“I. You were angry.”

“What?” With the heel of his hand, Jaskier scrubbed at his face. His bruised face, the imprints from where he was held darkening around his mouth and neck.

“You said I needed to figure this out and. I.” Had been snatched off the street by a predator and very nearly badly hurt. “I forgot my dagger back at the inn.” He took a deep breath, and then another. “I’m sorry, that was. That was stupid.”

“Hm.” It wasn’t. He should have been safe with Geralt in broad daylight. This time he took his hand, laced their fingers together and squeezed. “Let’s go.”

Exhausted from his earlier panic, Jaskier could barely stand when they reached the room, and Geralt helped him the last few steps to the bed, divesting him of doublet and chemise to expose even more bruising. He should have killed the guy slower. Much slower.

“Sorry. I’m sorry you have to do this.” Barely above a whisper. “I shouldn’t have. This curse.”

“Hush.” Geralt wrung out a cloth in the wash basin, touched it to his face and caught him when he jerked away in fear and surprise. “It’s alright. Just me. I’m going to get you cleaned up, Jaskier.”

“You don’t have to do that.” Muttering, he reached for the flannel.

“I know. Just. Relax, alright?” He swept it up his arm, lingered at the space between his neck and shoulder. “I’ve got you. I’m. Going to do better, Jaskier.”

“What do you mean?” This time, he allowed the touch and Geralt dabbed at a cut on his lip before rinsing and wringing again.

“You’ll ride Roach. In towns, I won’t let you out of my sight.” Jaskier was relaxing, blinking sleepily.

“You can’t babysit me all the time, Geralt.” Though he detected the hope that he wouldn’t have to keep doing this alone beneath his voice.

“No. But I can take care of you until we find a way to break this. Like I should have been doing from the start.” Jaskier’s head was nodding as he fought to stay awake. “We’ll talk more tomorrow.”

Geralt let Jaskier sleep in. The man was dead to the world, bruises stark on his pale skin, and no doubt exhausted from the day before and trying to manage as a newly blind being basically traveling alone. They had to get moving. Maybe Yennefer would understand how to break this curse or at least point them in a direction. But they had to find her first.

“Jaskier.” There was no response, not even a twitch, and Geralt spoke his name louder, and louder still before shaking him awake and dodging his flying fist. “Jaskier!” Nothing but panic in his face and Geralt was tired of seeing that there. He settled his hands over his shoulders, cupped his neck on either side. “Jaskier, what is it? A bad dream?” That wasn’t uncommon after an experience like he’d had.

“Geralt?” His breathing picked up, tears lined his dark lashes. “I.” The witcher snapped his fingers on either side of his head and watched his stricken face stay the same. “Geralt?” This time he drew Jaskier into an embrace, hugging him tightly and allowing him to do the same.

Because he couldn’t hear.

[julialouisdreyfest]

NIAT Interview

So to start off, what does the name N.I.A.T. stand for?

JR - Never ingest apples, Timmy. Will - NIGHT IN AT TIANANMENS - Take your time and sound it out. Danny - Nice Interstate At Toronto

I saw that you guys recently went on tour, how'd that pan out? 

JR - We had a great time! Looking forward to our next tour in October! Will - For our first tour it went exceptionally well.  Minor vehicle issues halfway through but we were able to perform every date with minimal setbacks.  We are going back on the road in October for a little over a week and playing with some good friends - couldn't be more excited. Danny - It was really dope. I haven't been out in a really long time so getting back out there was awesome.

Favorite venue from that tour?

JR - The Plaid Pig in Tacoma for sure. The locals were all super nice and made us feel right at home.  Will - Haufbrau House = Hall of Fame - the venue in Tacoma, The Plaid Pig, was badass.  Major Railyard (R.I.P.) vibes for sure. Zach - Substation in Seattle! Danny - The pinball bar next door to The Plaid Pig, the venue we actually played at.

Over the years you have had quite the lineup change, how has that affected your sound, or has it? 

JR - I think it has changed our sound in a lot of ways. Everytime we have a member change, the most important part to me is keeping the feel that we have always created. The chaos, the energy. At this point I am the only original member but luckily for this last member change, Danny and I had worked together playing crazy weird music in the past. So it just felt obvious to me to ask him. I have always loved making music with Danny. I can honestly say this new chapter has me more stoked than ever!  Will - The sound has changed to a degree - I think much of that lies in Edward Longo's departure from the band in 2019 (that guy is in a league of his own) but with Danny integration into the band, it has brought back an element that I thought we had once lost.  Having to deal with those abrupt lineup changes has also allowed us to explore different avenues - I started a solo noise project called PLVMES in mid 2020 after Tony Morales departed and now incorporate elements of that into our live sets to replace the samples he wrote for our first album, "Blasphemist".  Slowly working on re-incorporating that again but at the moment, the noise walls become more and more cohesive as we get along it might be awhile before that happens.    Danny - I'm the new guy, It seems like it's changing a lot, but also, it doesn't?!

For the metal laymen, how can you describe the fucked-up sound that is grindcore? 

JR - Imagine driving by a music festival going 90 miles an hour with your windows rolled down trying to make out who's playing. Will - The sound of a government building being razed. Zach - A garbage bag of empty paint cans rolling down a hill on a windy day. Danny - S.C.U.B.A. if you know you know.

I was super excited to see you guys contribute to the Nirvana grind cover album. How did that come about and why Aneurysm as a song choice? 

JR - I want to say Will found the Label that put it together and asked if we could submit. "Territorial Pissings" was already taken so I picked my second favorite song, "Aneurysm". The recording process for that one was a lot of fun. Will - I came across a post in a random grindcore group on social media and contacted Sudden Strike Records out of Ireland about submitting - it only took us a few rehearsals for it to come together before we recorded, mixed and sent them the track.  There were a good number of bands that had already picked their songs so it was our first choice but even if we hadn't been able to get on the compilation, we probably would have ended up covering it anyways.  Zach - Always one of my favorites, we all immediately gravitated towards it (seems kinda obvious). Danny - I have no idea. I was not in the band. If it was up to me we would have tried to do a Weezer song and see if anyone notices.

What's your take on Montanas metal scene, its growth and what it could benefit from? 

JR - It has come a long way. I think the biggest thing is just more bands. More bands making more music. Like Zach says, go record your homies if you can. Make terrible music with your friends until you make something you think is awesome. There's no fast way to make our scene bigger or better. It comes from more people, trying new things. Will - The scenes are ever changing, ever growing - we're still reeling from losing The Railyard and Smiling Dog Records, two DIY mainstays that provided countless bands here the opportunity to play.  The influx of residents in the state has resulted in there being many more musicians around than there used to be, leaving us in a good position where we can really expand what we're working towards if we put in the work - I think much of this can be addressed with better organization and networking.  It is also beneficial to provide a service to your scene if you're able, whether it is flyer design, street-teaming, shooting photos, promoting online, etc.  The list is endless. Zach - At this point in my life I’m very thankful for the metal scene, and Montana music scenes in general for their sense of community and the friendships. I think something the scene could benefit from is more DIY boots on the ground: house shows, homies recording homies in the basement for free, cross genre DIY shows, etc. Danny - It has definitely come a long way. I think we just need more  high quality music of all sorts, there is never too much. Hahaha. 

What is the most annoying thing that people do at a metal show, besides just standing there looking at their phones? 

JR - Gatekeeping. Also people requesting you to play literally anything lol. Will - Showing up late or ditching out early because you gotta work in the morning.  Your job ain't going anywhere, bucko. Zach - Karate bullshit in the pit. Danny - Smoking weed when I'm trying to worship the Lord with my music.

What goes into your writing process? 

JR - When this band started we just liked the idea of writing with no limits. I think we still encompass that. It usually starts with a drum part I make but lately we have been jam writing more with Danny. Will - Generally starts with a skeleton brought to the table by JR; Danny and Zach then take the reins and construct the guitar parts.  Vocals are constantly evolving just like the lyrics and go through multiple edits before anything is set in stone but there have been a few songs where the lyrics were basically written on the spot ("How Long Does Shit Burn?", "Coffee Is For Closers").        Zach - One person brings an idea to the table, usually JR with a drum part, and we expand upon it. Danny - Mostly just starts with a riff, work around it, bring it to the guys and if they like it we keep working around it. Sometimes we just jam one out too. I don't think there's really a right or wrong way to do it, just whatever works for you. Don't be afraid to try new things.

Favorite Seinfeld character and why? 

JR - Morty Seinfeld, I mean the guy worked for Harry Fleming for 38 years. Will - You got a question, you ask the eight ball. Zach - Kramer Danny - Bender

React to this: You're watching a stage play. A banquet is in progress. The guests are enjoying an appetizer of raw oysters. The entree consists of boiled dog stuffed with rice. The raw oysters are less acceptable to you than a dish of boiled dog.

JR - The only reaction I can think of, would be to go home and hug my dogs. Will - *lights blunt* Zach - Raw oysters are absolutely delicious. Pop one with a little hot sauce, uncultured swine. Danny - Wait, you guys aren't eating boiled dogs? I thought this was metal.

Working on any new material, what can we expect to see in the future?

JR - Well, you can watch us attempt to write ourselves into a never ending wormhole of weirdness and loud angry noises. Will - Find out for yourself this Saturday @ The Nova Danny - Degeneracy, overall.

You can catch NIAT during this year's fest at Nova Center on August 6th at 10:15pm!

[posijeff-blog]

Chapter 2, Young, Poor, and Jewish In my initial year at UWM  I took two semesters of Biblical Hebrew language under Dr. Bernard Grossfield. Some of that era of the tongue translated to contemporary conversational Hebrew which I was able to use in my daily dialogue with an elderly Palestinian coworker. I went on in the Religious Studies program to study with Rabbi Dana Evan Kaplan who I became friends with. At the time he was writing a book called, American Reform Judaism: An Introduction ( Rutgers University Press) which was to become highly esteemed in academic circles. I never wanted to move from Milwaukee but I knew it was time to travel. I narrowed my destinations down to India and Israel. Israel won out. I met Dana for lunch at Shaharazad restaurant to talk about it. He thought it was a great idea and cool that I had no plans and just a few loose contacts in The Holy Land.  At the time I had very little money. Dana told me exactly what to do. "Go to the old city. People are going to ask you if you are Jewish. Just tell them your mother is Jewish. You know more about Judaism than most Jews." "But I have tattoos. I don't even look Jewish." "I didn't say you were a good Jew" I knew he was right. I needed to turn this head knowledge into experiential knowledge. Without doing so there would be no insight into first hand experience as a Jew. This was education and investigative journalism at once. The more I gave whole heartedly of myself as a Jew, the more I knew about being a Jew, and the more of a Jew I became. Believe your own bullshit. Dana told me some very specific things that came to manifest in Israel. For example, I would meet a guy at The Wall named Jeff Seidel who would ask if I would like a place to stay and I could stay with a religious family and study with them. This came to pass and so did some other interesting things. My first stop was in Tel Aviv where I'd to stay with a punk rocker I met in a punk chat room. Our connection was a n anarchist punk band whose 1994 record I had by some Jewish Israeli's called Nekhei Na'atza AKA Renounce Judaism. Like  a lot of American punk bands, I thought they were fast and thought provoking but if they believed in what they politically espoused they were painting with some broad strokes. To a large degree it was just another shock tactic, one that got them recognition in Israel and on talk shows where religious Jews tried to "deprogram" them. Believe it or not, pre-911 Israel didn't have a lot else going on as far as a hardcore scene.When I arrived the guys at the squat treated me like I was some sort of ambassador. They really rolled out the cat haired red carpet for me. These guys were so crusty one dude's deadlock fell off. I got up from the chair at the kitchen table after my NesCafe and my butt had a mustache. Their record collections were really small and they were stoked to get some presents I had for them  them from the States like the new Shelter, a Sensefield/Jimmy Eat World split 7", EVEL (from Milwaukee), and the Destroy LA 7" from Pressure. They liked the Pressure 7" right away and were pretty open to the other music as well. After taking a walk one of the guys took me aside and told me seriously that that the world would be a better place if the US were blown off the face of the Earth. He wanted me to meet with this guy who he said was the king of the punks in Tel Aviv. I wasn't interested.   There was a lot of partying going on that night in the streets because The Maccabees professional basketball team ( part of the European league) just won a big championship title. I slept for a few hours then sneaked out with all my stuff. I slept on a jungle gym and wound up getting this rash called "wrestlers back" from that or the squat: a bunch of gross boils all over my back. I was low on money from the start so I decided to walk to Jerusalem and hitch hike if need be as I heard it was safe to do so. I calculated in my mind that it was only 40 miles which was way off. But the major roads were lined with grapefruit trees and orange groves. I didn't want to steal so I was eating warm, sun drenched oranges and grapefruit that fell off the trees. I hitched a  ride in a van after the first 15 miles and got into an argument in Hebrew with the driver. It seems hitch hiking in Israel is safe because you are expected to pay. I told him I wasn't going to pay him one shekel since we were going to the same place. He was pissed but didn't kick me out. The kids in the back seat were cool. An orthodox family, one of the young boys asked if I liked Tu Pac. No matter where I seemed to go on this journey Palestinian and Israeli kids seemed to share a love and excitement for Tu Pac. When I got dropped off I found a grocer and bought a bottle of water. I started walking toward sights I'd seen in books: the mosque with the gold dome (which holds the slab of rock Abraham was going to sacrifice Isaac on), The Wall. A conservative guy with a yarmulke, white shirt, and black pants was coming home from work to his apartment and asked me in a New York accent if I was lost. I told him I wanted to get to The Wall before sundown as it was Friday. He invited me up to their apartment where I got to meet his young wife and baby son who I got to hold and play with. He prayed over me and gave me a yarmulke which was not real effective because I had a shaved head. It turned out he knew my friend Raphael's relatives in New York and our mothers were both from Sheboygan. He showed me a a haunting photo of his mom's dad visiting his home town in Latvia that was totally reduced to rubble by the Nazi's. I'm not sure why the guy felt compelled to return. My mother's family is Lithuanian, from that same region of the Europe I knew next to nothing about at the time. The couple sent me on my way with a bag of groceries, mostly native oranges and Israeli chocolates. I was so happy to have food. When I got to the wall it was as predicted I met Jeff Siedel. I wanted to go pray but he wanted to talk to me about the Chicago Blackhawks who were not doing so well at the time. There were so many cute girls there. I looked kind of awful, like a sun burnt skinhead. But the girls were all really sweet and nice to me. Most of them wore long conservative dresses. A few of them kept asking me about my tattoos. There was a group of men praying with some old scrolls. This guy with a beard who was about my dad's age asked if I was married. I told him no. "Well maybe you just haven't met the right girl." "Yeah, well that's the whole trick isn't it." These people were OG. Seidel wrote a name and address on a piece of paper for me of an elderly man and woman who I would have dinner with and stay with. I got to the apartment which reminded me of a clean early 20th century apartment in NYC except cobble stone streets below, less sirens, and more sounds of people praying and singing. The meal itself took hours. I turned down the boiled chicken that was sitting out for three hours. But the wine was delicious. I was really poor at reading from the prayer books in Hebrew but they were patient with me, like loving grandparents. I asked the  man why in earlier times miracles occurred like parting of the red sea. People, as he explained were more in touch with nature, with God then. Even the most depraved person had a sense of reverence for that which could not be explained. Today we credit meteorology as a logical science, more believable than God even while fifty percent of people complain about the weather man getting shit wrong half the time. Perfect Deity, developing science. When it came time to bid farewell the next day I wanted to give the matriarch a hug but there seemed to be some rule against it. But I got a strong sense of love from them and some solid handshakes. They even gave me money. I hit the streets and saw the sights. The hottest chicks around were the Israeli Army girls. All these girls were my age and wore grunge styled army fatigues and held Uzis that were attached to a strap that went around there necks. I guess I have a little Ted Nugent in me. I don't know why but if you put a gun on an already hot girl she becomes totally hot. It's a weird phenomenon. I'm weird. I figured I may as well do something positive with my time. I saw a sign that said "Emergency Clinic" in English then something in Arabic outside the City's Jewish quarter. I had just gotten a CPR and first Aid certification from the American Red Cross before I came over. Maybe they could use some help with all the fighting. I didn't see any bloodshed but there was a really high tension in the air as Jews  interacted cordially yet cautiously with Palestinians and vice versa. I can imagine it was a similar "in the air tonight"  feeling prevalent during the American years of segregation down south. I saw some Arab kids playing with guns, hiding around the corner and shooting at one another. I wondered how long before they would be carrying guns for real. The thought bummed me out. I got to the clinic and it appeared to be run by Muslims because I didn't see anybody there except some shoes on what looked like a Moroccan rug. Out of nowhere two guy ran out of the clinic in white robes pointing Uzis at me. The head guy from the clinic (I was later lead to assume) walked up to me with a Chinese AK and pointed it at my forehead. Realizing I didn't speak their native tongue the head honcho asked what the fuck I was doing there. I told him I was just seeing if they needed any help. It was confusing to him. He grabbed my wrist and asked me what the Hebrew tattoo meant on it. I told him it was one of the Hebrew words for meditation from the Bible. Ironically I got it done in NYC by Tee Schwartz , a skinhead from Milwaukee. Honcho told his buddies to go back in the clinic and started talking to me about meditation. He said his brother was into meditation. He told me to be more careful  because he was about to shoot me. It was all good. To be honest, I did not feel scared for one second. I was on Holy ground. One of my last stops that day was at the Garden of Gethsemane, where Jesus was betrayed by Judas Iscariot. I saw Reggie White from the Green Bay Packers there which was awesome and I got my picture taken with him. Nobody else knew who he was. A few Israeli soldiers thought I was getting my picture taken with him because he was a black giant. They told me there was an even bigger black guy there a few days earlier. What the hell is wrong with these people? It's Reggie White! Seeing him made me homesick. I was already missing Milwaukee, my apartment, and my 13" TV set. I was leaving Jerusalem with more money I had arrived with on account of the nice people I met. I got a shuttle to Tel Aviv and flew to Amsterdam, then home.