So, kicking and screaming, here it is… wait for it… I’m a blogger!

I suppose it fits. After all, I’m an unemployed, unpublished author living in the neighbourhood of Tel-Aviv notorious (and much avoided) for its chronic hipsteritis. Inevitable is probably a better word. Fortunately I went bald a decade ago and have no hair to glibbly and meticulously un-groom. I also have yet to develop a fetish for ill-fitting synthetic garbs; ill-fitting cotton will do me just fine thank you. However, if WWIII does begin as that Iranian gentleman kindly offered yesterday, polyester clothing probably has the same half-life as the radiation. Mark my words: after Armageddon, hipsters will be telling us they “rocked polies before they were cool”.

But I’m not there yet; we’re not there yet. The new year’s just begun and I’m filled with optimism! I repented till clean (and woozy), the old dog’s not dead yet (and even seems to be getting on with the tube in her neck), the young dog’s learned how to hold her bladder, the baby has grown enough hair that people may just stop thinking she’s a boy, and Wife’s cooking dinner tonight, against all the odds.

So what if I just got another “we regret to inform you” in the mail-box (postage pre-paid by yours-truly), if I have no idea where the second book’s going, or if I’m being asphyxiated on the balcony by that ever-present thick black smoke from the grilled-meat joint across the street? Life’s good I tell you. Life’s good.

Really…

Promise…