Shez “I Cut My Hair in the Convent” from GoGay

A piece of short fiction from the Israeli gay culture website GoGay: I Cut My Hair in the Convent

At GoGay, her name is transliterated as “Chez.” Shez, Shaz, Chez – ah, the many variations!

A rough translation via Google Chrome:

“I did not want bright butterflies around me all the time”, “Who, honey, sweet” and a barely audible going to enjoy it, “singing voice with the music into my ear to die like a dog – but with a new haircut. Do not want to go out and look happy even though I’m going to die – that is the order of Did not I tell – spring ”

I was once the heart of Tel Aviv cuts her hair I am not. They do not. Today I cut my hair in the convent. The last time I went to get a haircut at the barbershop Eenie, I took the line five (cruel), I got to the barbershop and waited. no one there had not been there. Once you get a haircut where you no longer there. Barbershops Did not I It’s like a concentration camp. Directly give you a number and you have no more than name. Now the “baby” like everyone else. “Honey,” “who” and rarely “sweet”. and like a concentration camp must be miserable, barbershops Did not I must be happy. Happy and carefree. Libraries floating around like butterflies colorful clothes very Ainiim bought in most Ainiim Tel Aviv, and tell you “Clothes do not Ainiim, I bought them for peanuts in Bezalel,” and filled with admiration I realized I no I did not belong these libraries, and asks for the address, and like you too Others are going to buy there, and in a hurry this place becomes not and does a lot of clothes, and so his owners get rich and drive down to Israel and have facts bored, when they themselves are going to Paris, Rome and London, on business of course, not just freedom, but At the same time they also freedom, and drive them down to Israel again and again and again. And when you stay in and take the line five (cruel) and go get a haircut in Ainiim. Warm you. The curse silently to yourself, go buy the clothes Hayniim and furious. Why are they going down to Israel and stay in the country. It’s completely wrong, but what to do, that’s how it happens, each with his own fate, sure you’d want to go abroad to Israel, and go down to Israel is also so do not. But you’ve never been out to Israel. I know. It’s so awful, so I beg you would not write it anywhere, let alone post or get that story. Can you hear me, Annette, or at least give you a false name, told of fact, that I do not want the world to know that I have never were out to Israel. This is, so I told already how the last time I went to Tel Aviv barbershop Did not I suddenly realized it kind of concentration camp , and how to deny my identity, because I, like all the honeys there, stop being Annette Levy. Yes, you can write my name in bold. Annette Levy not ashamed of anything. Not that she was not out to Israel and that she was not going to line five (cruel), but cuts her hair in the convent. then, the number Eenie, straight is among honeys, sweet and memes, and I was not even wearing no. Beautiful girls entered the barbershop and thin and young with special haircuts, only I was there eight with off white teeth, and I sat quietly in a corner and read a newspaper. Directory named music loudly and sang with the music and were very happy when the phone rang, it was the mother of one, and the hairdresser the other told her “your mother …,” and the brain has been swirling in me, that I in this concentration camp, and I have no mother, and now the holiday season , and nobody asked me, that my father great, and all my aunts have died long ago, and my friends did not invite me, because maybe they did not think about it. So tell ridiculed the mother of one of them asking what to bring, cake or pie Otherwise, and I cursed the heart of the libraries that wish their mother would die and then feel what it means to be without a mother, and then regret it and curse yourself for what was Hshmtztn the mummy of yours. But then I got scared that’s how I wish libraries niceness and I do not mine and I did undo a curse and I asked God not to listen to the nonsense I talked to him only a moment ago, and Shiahl only good for their mothers, and that at least they will be mothers and at least give them a place to go on holidays. Then it was my turn, and I lost the paper and put it on the shelf next to me, and hairdresser greeted me and smiled at me and fussed over, and washed my hair, and put my apron neck like a baby, and sang along with music noisy, and Csnsfh at my face the words of the music I could feel a heavy smell of cigarettes. But the convent , brother brother brother, the monastery is completely different. I’m not going to the monastery five line (the Cruel) and the nuns do not ever smell of cigarettes from the mouth. San Toriz even younger sister, I know for a fact that she smokes because once I caught her in the convent garden, even she was not smelling breath. Of course when her turn came to tell me she uses spray neutralizes odors. How did I get to the monastery? realized I did not want bright butterflies around me all the time, “Who, honey, sweet” and a barely audible going to enjoy it, “singing voice with the music into my ear to die like a dog noise the other, but with a new haircut. And I do not want to go straight to the noisy street, the soot buses, go out and look happy even though I’m going to die. That is the order of Did not I tell spring. Smile before you walk three steps to the road to be run under a bus giant coming toward you. But do not you jumped the road, not stepping, rather, three steps off a curb in your hair new, painted, cut, and your walking gawky, Baibreich the taut enough and all half – of your bereavement, and it also did not marry, no. You went to the station and you suddenly saw the road was blocked, because now they are building, and there is a channel, a long channel that dig, roll, renovate, adjust. That’s how it is in Tel Aviv. So you tell yourself, ‘That’s it, let me die with a new hairdo and pretty colors,’ and jumped straight into the ditch. But the canal was so deep, it’s just a shame So I wanted to commit suicide. do not want to be ashamed, says Annette Levy. Will not be ashamed. Why I should be ashamed, because I do not Tel Aviv Suicide not a peace tower? Because I chose not to crash into the towers asphalt asphalt pavements, but I slip quietly into the tunnel of sand? I do not Tel Aviv and Tel Aviv want to be more. Can you hear me, Chez? I wake up my very pleasant trail. It’s After the Fall. Maybe I lost consciousness for a while. I wake up on a very pleasant path, birds chirping in the evening and despite the headlights are nice. Around the garden and from a monastery. I am walking on this path and see the trees bow their branches at me. What on earth is happening? Suddenly I realize that it’s like children’s stories. Every tree is different. There are fig trees and trees of chocolate and trees raspberry diet and trees in tea plants and trees, raspberry juice with sugar and trees lemon trees and orange juice, all I want, and lawn chairs in many colors scattered along the path and under the trees, but not a soul there. There is no man but me. I do not care what I’m doing here and who brought me here. Maybe when this paradise. I just do not ask myself questions. For one thing there is, and it’s quiet. Quiet wonderful, wonderful, quiet, not here. Only the chirping of birds and trees rustling and the sound of church bells in the distance. And I’m tempted, sitting on a comfortable chair and hold out my hand and take me raspberry juice diet. Very nice to me, and I really have to pee. This section is not written any children’s book, I swear, Chez. I say out loud “I have to pee,” and suddenly appeared before me the structure of services, and I go, and everything is so polished and there are so brilliant, just a pleasure. When I washed my hands with rose water and scented soap, and sat back in a recliner. And this moment was not so bad that I had Mama, and I’ve quarreled with my father, and all my aunts are dead, and I’m single, aging, and not having children, and I could not fit in the heart Did not I tell spring and can not lose there my name. I Annette Levy. I do not, single and half-orphan, and very desolate world. And I’m like can not be happy at all. But I found a moment’s peace in a recliner, still in the convent sisters tell me, I knew in my heart. They even tell me and I will be painted the gate. They even let me cosmetic services if I so wish. Are going to turn my eyelashes and eyebrows and facials I do not charge me for money and would be convinced that they are servants of God. Since I cut my hair in the convent. I’m not going more in line five cruel. Jesus did not speak to me and God did not give me a sign. I did not become a prophet and I do not read the Bible. Just once, I do not, do not pray, a Jew, go to the monastery to get a haircut. And sisters so nice to me. from Chez’s latest book, “tame”, published by splendor literature.


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