I turned around for some reason. I couldn't tell you why. I
don't remember hearing the explosion but my ears buzzed for
three days. I remember being blinded by the red orange
monster and hitting the concrete wall after flying ten
meters back. I don't know how I got the implant. I remember
that woman screaming at me to get her kids out of there. I
remember getting them and not finding the little girl's leg.
I remember putting a guy out with my coat but I can't, for
the life of me remember when and where that thing got stuck
in my back. I'm thinking of this because scars itch for
decades. I also remember laughing my ass off because the guy
yanking the piece of twisted metal out my shoulder blade was
a doctor Muhammad Kahla. He wasn't laughing. He said I was
lucky and that my tattoo was intact. I said "lucky" and
laughed even harder.

I'm scratching my left shoulder blade against the side of
the stage steps, smoking a cigarette I nicked from Mike and
I know I got that look again and if someone sees me they'll
ask if I'm okay and tell me some story about where they were
on September 11th. Mike did almost everything tonight, all I
have to do is drive them to the hotel. We had a bit of a
riot last night, it got a little scary for a second, we
don't really know how it started. Someone from the crowd
ended up pulling Jonathan off and for some reason they was
no one to stop him from falling. Apparently they were busy
with some other guy who got a beer bottle in the face. I
spotted Jonathan's unintentional stagedive and ended up
diving right after him, pulling him out there myself. Which
is why they're going easy on me tonight. Nothing personal,
it's a job.

This is the last song, Manny gives me the sign, I got into
the dressing room, grab a bunch of towels and get back to
the steps. Jonathan stumbles down the steps, takes one of
the towels and starts screaming that he couldn't hear
himself half the time, throws the towel on the floor and
heads for the car.

It's been driving me nuts for two years, it couldn't be from
the bus, I was facing it when it exploded.

In the car I'm scratching against the seat and Jonathan's
still bitching about the sound. I assure him it was much
better than San Diego and he should take my word for it and
chill. "Your shoulder?" he says, I answer "itches". He says
nothing for a while. On nights like this Jonathan and me
take turns playing psycho to freak out rednecks. We find a
bar or a diner or a gas station and one of us starts
screaming and throwing things and the other tries to calm
him down. One night we ended up in a bar I swear was near a
hell mouth, we'd been singing Rammstien all night when a
couple of nazis started up with me. I felt compelled to
point out that if Hamass had missed me I was pretty sure
they weren't going to get me either. Jonathan had to drive
the car into the bar to get me out. I had a black eye but we
were laughing so hard we had to pull over to the side of the
road just to calm down.

Jonathan says he'll stop by and we'll order some beers and
hang out, he knows I'm not going to get much sleep and if I
do it'll be full of nightmares. They don't scare me, they're
just fucking uncomfortable. I don't dream about mutilated
children and burning corpses, exploding busses or giant
pieces of metal in my back, I spend entire nights trying to
prevent it from happening. I know it's going to happen, I
know it's a dream, but I still run around trying to find the
bastard, trying to warn people and no one ever listens to
me. I'm not PTSD'ed, not a lot of Israelis are, we can't
afford to be. I made the decision that night to go back
there, it wont stop the nightmares but it'll make me feel
better about leaving and my dear Israeli friends telling me
I don't deal. Or maybe I'm just homesick.

Not like I matter. I'm a walking target for a bunch of
religious maniacs waging holy fucking war against my freedom
and way of life. I guess it should make me happy, everyone's
looking for something to fight for, don't know about the
rest of the world but we were born fists up, it's all we
know. My life has been in danger since the very first second
of my existence. There's always someone who wishes me dead.
My death is a medal, my life a ticket to heaven for anyone
who takes it. I'm worth more dead than alive. I'm 23 years
old, I like heavy metal and industrial music, drinking beer
and fucking. I have low self esteem and a tendency for self
mutilation and there's a price on my head.

Back in Jerusalem I'm amazed how different the sun feels.
California sun is really bad for scars and tattoos, I think
I spend most of my time smearing sun block on myself and the
others. Manny's the freak - he only has three tattoos, the
rest of us are walking talking archives. My scar gets the
most attention when I don't lie about it. I still got that
piece of metal at home, I always said I should have it
melted into a ring or something.

When you're about to do something huge you think the whole
world knows about it. you expect everyone to make way and
tap you on the shoulder like in those movies. I feel like my
chest is going to burst open and my heart will come shooting
out in a million pieces but it's business as usual around
me. I cross the street to the exact place where I was
standing when the bus exploded. They erected this scary ass
macabre monument build out of pieces of scorched metal from
the bus, my skin crawls just looking at it. I stand in front
of it for a couple of minutes respectfully. Then I get to
work. I turn around facing the spot where it blew up exactly
like then. I find the wall I hit into, it's hard to find the
exact spot. I'm holding the implant in my hand like the
piece of a puzzle. 5 minutes pass and I can't see anything
that might be connected. I look up and a sign above me says
JEWELER. I hesitate for a second and walk in. he did it on
the spot, didn't even charge me for it. I told him the
story, wasn't sure if he'd believe me but he did. He even
carved today's date on it. I tried to give him some money
but he wouldn't have it, said I earned it. and they said
life wasn't a perfect chain of events. what do they know.