White Christmas

Or at least the Day After the Day After Christmas..

It doesn't happen too too often, but sometimes it does. And it did today, after an unseasonably warm and sunny Chanukah. Amazing! Baruch Hashem!!







Squeakers took one step outside, looked around, and bolted back into the (relative) safety and warmth of the trailer.

Three little girls stared into a dumpster...

Dear Dr. Tucker,

In our last session, you suggested that I blog in order to get in touch with my feelings about the dead horse I saw in the dumpster here in Bat Ayin yesterday. And then you subsequently, with a chilling nonchalance, dropped the bomb-- James Brown was dead. And suddenly, that little dead horse in the dumpster, whose momma kicked at it and wouldn't let it suckle at her breast, that little sweet brown horse- let's just say it's of a different color now.

For was it not the Godfather of Soul at whose Breast of Funk I myself suckled when my spirit flagged? First at the Trump Casino in Atlantic City (1994), and then at Mariners' Hall in San Francisco (1999)? Was it not the glory of his glistening mane that inspired my ill-fated gelled coiffs in the days of my wild youth? Was it not James Brown himself who, when kicked by a mother of a society that just couldn't hold his light, couldn't offer him the sweet nurturing he needed, jumped up, shouted "Hey!" and let us know that "This is a Man's World?" (so to speak)

That dead little horse in the dumpster is now my only link, out here on this hill, thousands of miles from the birthplace of Soul, with a man whose refusal to stay down, refusal to be peacefully led off the stage of life taught me that, no matter how hard it gets, no matter how cracked up you might feel, you always got a brand new bag in which to reach, to pull out some vessel filled with that sweet nectar of life.

You know about bags, Dr. Tucker, and their power. Have a donut for me. On me. And join me in remembering one of our legends.

You ask how I feel?

I feel good.... I knew that I would. Hey! Ow!

Between the Cracks

This is me and Kirvaya Maayan Newman at Rav Daniel and Batya Kohn's house last night, having a time of it at the first post-wedding Sheva Brachot for Jacqui and David Fuchs. David Fuchs was my roommate. Now he's Jacqui's roomate. I look goofy in this shot, because I have to make weird faces when being photographed, otherwise my eyes end up all cocked or closed, as can be seen in a rough shot at the bottom of this post. Below is the amazing Avraham Eliezer and some other folks I know, dancing at Sarah and Pesach's wedding last month. Parts of Pesach are at lower left.

So much happens between posts that doesn't make it onto the blog. When inspiration strikes, I'm usually too tired or occupied to post. When I take a moment to post, I usually forget what was so inspiring. I think I let the crappy signal affect me too much, use it as an excuse not to blog. Also, there's the ever-present tension between blogger and reader; the need for an active readership to make the blog feel alive, and the need for a dynamic blogger to keep the blog readable.

By the way, what happened to that Anonymous gal from a few posts back. I think I bugged her out with my "family restaurant" comment.

For now, here's a bit of a tale of prayer-

My friend Big Viv sent me some notes to put into the Kotel (Western Wall). So I went there to pray Mincha (afternoon prayer) right before the wedding of my roommate David Fuchs. We were both dressed up all snappy for the event. The Chabad guys were there with a wagon of Tefillin, and I hadn't wrapped that morning, so I started sifting through the cart for a lefty arm tefillin. I wrapped, said Sh'ma Yisrael and started taking off the tefillin when a secular Sefardi guy in his 40s came up and asked me if he could wrap too. I almost told him that I wasn't working there, and then I realized what a great opportunity had been placed in my hands.

He rolled up his sleeve, and I wrapped the straps on his arm, and placed the tefillin on his head, leading him in all the blessings along the way. I looked around- Another secualr guy with his kids, all wearing the paper Kippot they have for Kotel visitors. Two Ethiopian soldiers, wearing the nylon kippot that Chabad provided (I confess-- I was wearing my black Kangol for wedding styles, with no Yamicha under, so I too wore a white nylon bar-mitzvah kippah borrowed from the cart). It really hit me-- Jews come to the Kotel, and they want to pray. They want to connect to God and the Tradition. They come up to the Chabad cart and shyly ask for help partaking in a ritual that our people have been performing for millennia. They want to re-link to their People and our ways (re-link is the meaning of the Latin relegere--from which we get "religion--" or so I read once, though there are other opinions). To wrap tefillin on the arm and head of a grown man is a profound way of sharing the beauty of Jewish heritage. He approached with such purity and simplicity- a small request-- could he, too partake in the Mitzvah? Could he, too, be a part of the chain?

After that, I went to pray. I was standing maybe four feet from the Wall, swaying and making noises and crying out and muttering and scrunching up my face and moaning and maybe even wailing a bit, and I noticed this kid come up on my left and kiss the wall, as many of us do (don't call it idolatry- even if it is). He leaned against the wall a while, and I closed my eyes again and continued praying. At some point I opened my eyes again, and saw the kid, leaning against the wall facing me and staring at me-- clearly in utter rapture at my beatific glow and my saintly devotions to the Lord.

Or he'd never seen someone make such funny faces before.

Since I was sticking notes in the wall, which I never do-- I think pilgrims and tourists do that more than regulars-- I decided to write my own little note. My third one ever, which said the same thing as my famous Notes in the Wall from 1987 and 1998, except this time in Hebrew, and with a bit more qualification to avoid undesired consequence.

I would tell you about the guy who cleans up the fallen notes at the Wall, but it might be too harsh for public consumption.
_____
Take note of the new chapter name and number.

God Willing, it looks like our drought is going to end-- the sky has been decidedly unlcear today. This winter has been way too sunny and blue-skied.

*Note on the etymology of Religion: Forget it-- I had read that "re-link" thing years ago, but a little bit of Googling suggests that everyone has a different answer for the origin of the word. I am not going to do deep research now, but at least we all now know it's complicated

Just wanted to light it up..

Happy Chanukah, friends.

Be well, and be in touch!

The month of sleep and dreams

The Hebrew month is Kislev, the month of Sleep, the month of Chanuka, the month of dreams. My Chanukiah (Menorah) is already out and ready to go. Last year I made the glorious switch to oil, which is standard among the observant Jews... I highly recommend it, for a more tactile, hands-on Chanuka experience.

In our Torah readings this month, Yaakov sleeps and dreams of the ladder, Lavan dreams, Yosef dreams, Pharaoh dreams. Stuie has not been dreaming too too much, but I have been sleeping a lot, and feeling quite indolent. I would like to blame the winter, but then again, it hasn't been so cold yet, and to assume that the winter makes me indolent would suggest that I have another couple three months of indolence ahead of me.

Then again, I was indolent in the summer, so ya can't really blame the cold.

As far as waking dreams, it's kinda funny (ha?) that a guy who fantasizes about doing everything in the world is so afflicted by (indulgent of) indolence... I'm sort of a young Walter Mitty (check your 6th grade English textbook for sources on that one).

Then again, the fact that I would fear general ignorance as to the identity of Walter Mitty perhaps speaks of the indolence of an entire generation.

Huh. Too much to think about.
Or too much about which to think, really.

For the real action, check the 3-way commenting blitz on the previous post. Silly.

WanderingWho?

Oy.
It's a bit challenge for me to know if to blog, what to blog, why to blog, when I am feeling less than shparkletacular, you know? Do my friends and fans and critics care to hear my whining about having a mid-level cold, being confused about romantic endeavors, feeling lifeless, godless, clueless, aimless? Have they heard enough of that? Does it belong on a blog? Does it belong on this blog?

The thing is, the blog needs quality content and consistent posting, otherwise folks will get bored or will stop checking in. So, if I am moody for a few weeks, and decide not to post, people will drop the blog from their regular surfing routine, and I lose readers. But if my moping is off-putting or just plain dull, folks will become uninterested, even sick of it, and will quit The 'Stu outright.

Upon reflection, I have been told that I make great company even when I'm being cruddy, and I've also been told that my writing is good enough even on a not-so-good day, so perhaps I have decided that it is better to blog depression, than to not-blog depressed.

So here it is.

I'm sick, I feel crappy. I don't know what the hell I'm doing, and whatever it is, it's not flowing so well. I'm listening to Willie Nelson (thank God).

Little things I should have said and done; I just never took the time-- but you were always on my mind....

Here's some pics I found ages ago and just love, and wanted to share.

Dinner with Steven and Bradley

After all the furor and garbage burning in Jerusalem over the scheduled gay pride parade a few weeks ago, me and yitz (yitz.com) decided to prance around town like a couple of chubby bear buddies on vacation in the holy land ("oh, that Jesus is cute, but thorns are so pase...").

The only thing is that any real gay guy, even a chubby bearded one, would have better style than me. Those jeans are a wreck-- I seem to have lost about 23 pounds over the past few months (Mazal Tov!!-- through no apparent effort of my own, no dietary or exercise effort, that is; Alice, my naturopath, says the weight has slipped off because I "no longer need it to protect me." Spiritual/Emotional Dieting! Now THERE'S a book that would sell in L.A. {Jenn...?})... as i was saying, i seem to have lost a bit of weight (about 11% of my body mass, in fact), and so my mildly baggy jeans suddenly are just shlumpy. The worst was the other day when I went into town with the outfit in the photo, but with a blue sweater and a brown, African-style boxy kippah-- for some reason, the combined effect shouted: "Total Dork on Safari."

The truth is, that yitz and I hung out for dinner with no gay costuming strategy. But when we got out of his car, we were horrified to discover that we were dressed exactly the same. I wonder if the haredi guys ever have a moment like that (Aw man! Yossele is wearing black and white today too! I'm going home to change.).

Going to see the new Scorcese flick tonight. It will be fun to read the subtitles. I have yet to learn how to really cuss or kick in someone's head in Hebrew. [NOTE: film people have the pretention of calling a filmmaker a "filmmaker" and using his last name... "Scorcese's work is really flar blar blah blar blar compared to the early Copolla stuff..." Industry folks use nicknames on the first name: "Yeah, Marty's been out of it for a while, but at least he hasn't vanished the way Frank did... ]

A Little Sucky

ugh-- i tried to post the other day, and bargled the whole thing, and got in trouble for inappropriate posting. THEN, i sent a bitchy email to five people, whining that they ignored my mom on her birthday, and found out that 2 of them had NOT ignored her.. Meanwhile, the promised Renaissance of Wanderingstu.com has yet to happen, and NO ONE has bought my car yet.

It all is somehow linked to the fact that i ate no turkey on Thanksgiving.

Were you at my Thanksgiving in August in Oakland, CA, year 2000?
Those were the classic days.

Stick with me friends, I'll come around soon!!!

3 weeks until Chanukah!

Just to Say

Shabbat Shalom, my friends.

I have been reviewing the blog this week, once via a guided tour with a friend, another time by tracing the comments of a new friend. And besides remembering how much I enjoy crafting words for all of you, I was also reminded how much I love having all y'all scurvy scalawags in my life.

Which is why I started this thing in the first place.

I have to go and shower and cook Quinoa with scallions and Pine Nuts (Tznobar in Hebrew) for the pre-wedding Shabbat celebration of my yeshiva-mate and fellow Broward County son, Pesach Ben Tzion Rothberg.

Take care.

i want to , i need to

but it just isn't hitting that flow at the moment.....

sorry it's been slack lately. signal issues don't help, nor does a busy schedule and bad time management and my general running-aroundness.
i just was reading some old wanderingstus, from last month and last year-- it's good stuff folks, you're right.. so i will try to keep it up more so, and more deep and real as well.

i've been toying with the idea of doing more thinking here on the page, and less brooding...
_____
so what's new?

here at yeshiva, I've been pushing into the Zman (Hebrew for "semester" or "learning term"), wrestling with issues of freedom and tradition, openness and boundaries, milk and meat. finding the deep, glorious core of grandiosity that is this creature they call Shimshon Stuart (Bennett) Siegel. Fighting apathy, both within and without. Stacking cans of mushrooms and jars of tahina (my work-study duties). Sleeping later than I'd like. Making nice with friends, getting deeper and closer as we experiment together with these two crazy ideas: Life and Torah. Or is that just one idea.

Pesach Ben Tzion (a/k/a Zack Bennett Rothberg), the other South Florida guy here (also Rav Daniel Kohn is from Pompano), is getting married in a week. He asked me to be the announcer at his wedding. This will be my third wedding as the Man with the Microphone. I think I am also doing my roommate David Fuchs' wedding in December, and then I will be kicking a little Hocus Pocus at Jason and Sarah's wedding in Palm Beach in Florida. For a guy who is so intimately involved in so many weddings......

(you finish the sentence)

A fair price to pay

Many restaurants in Israel don't even offer it at all.

Anyway, a cute shot from somewhere in New York last April. Did a little survey of photos from my trip to New York, found myself missing lots of people, and wondering about communication over long distances, the reality/necessity of being in frequent contact with dear ones, and the role that nostalgia plays in mythologizing the past.

Then I ate a whole container of cottage cheese.

I have not been feeling so bloggy lately; it comes and goes in phases. I wonder if there is really a point to doing this anymore-- to do it without a "drop of service" would probably present itself as bland weekly updates on my life. To put heart and soul into "The 'stu," as it's fondly called by many, would mean.... what would it mean?
_______
Ah yes-- important news: Esta figured out how to make an overseas call. She called me. That was great. For real.

will you give me yourself? will you come travel with me?

...Shall we stick by each other as long as we live???

Here's a quote from a conversation I had with Olga in March, 2002:

Kevin described me as being like Walt Whitman the other night in San Francisco: brilliant, caring, filled with love, isolated and alone

_____
Kev owns a restaurant now in San Francisco. Sometimes I miss him. And Johnae too. I don't know that Kevin's story about me, Sonnets for Strippers, ever made a big splash. My story of Aires the "dancer" with the tattoo that said in Sanskrit, "The body is but dust," never even got written....

Forgiving and Giving, OR NOT

I had a wonderfully nasty urge to post a delightfully vitriolic bit here about people's Emotional Cowardice-- how people can't be honest and loving and giving even (or especially) when they know that someone they love is in need. I mean, if your wife tells you that she loves flowers, especially on a gloomy day, then bring her some damn flowers. What does it take? How many flags need to be waved in a person's face before he opens his heart a little to someone he claims to love?

So. A few minutes ago, sitting outside and writing a letter that no one will read, I got extremely pissed at someone who doesn't bother to call, even though he KNOWS that that call would make a huge difference to me (don't worry, it's not you... and yeah, I know I could call him, or you, but at some points in life, you just wanna feel the need). And then I started thinking about the people who make excuses not to call people before Yom Kippur, even though they KNOW that the entire spiritual outlay of the coming year is (in theory) based on the repairing of last year's hurts.

And oh, did I get all self-righteous and sad and pissed. And oh, do I know that it ain't pretty to talk about such things on a fun website like Wanderingstu.com, especially if it leads to domino-effect revelations of my less-attractive personality traits/flaws. Like bitterness. Or inability to let go.

Or hypocrisy?

A week or so ago, when I first remembered that certain people hadn't even TRIED to make amends with me, I realized that there was one person in particular to whom I owed a call and an apology. So I called her immediately (see that? see how amazing and righteous I am???).

She said: "Come off it, Shim, that's old news, I'm over it."
(some people are resilient, like i said a few posts ago)

But what I DIDN'T do after that one call was apologize to all the other people who I've wronged, towards whom I know specifically that I have acted cruddy (not that there's so many). What to do? I'm gonna send an email to one of those people right now. And beyond that, I guess I'll ask you all for forgiveness RIGHT HERE, then just fall into the pile with the rest of the schleppers, who still owe me attention.

Frickin' hypocrite, me.
__________

by the way-- the first annual Wanderingstu Bloody Heart Award for maintaining sweetness and support in the face of extreme whining and self-deprecation goes to:

• Avraham Eliezer and Shoshana Guggenheim-Tertes
• Chana Hinda and Alan Frazin
• Jennifer Berkowitz
• Honorable Mention- Rav Natan Greenberg

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ed's note: due to the overwrought nature of the above post, the previously scheduled post entitled, "Shabbat is coming and I have nowhere to go and I am so damn lonely- Christ won't someone feel bad for me," originally slated for this afternoon, has been cancelled.

Good times at the heart of it

My roommate David Fuchs is a bassist. See him? He's been playing a little with Peh Daled, a funky Jew band from the States who are here for a few weeks. He asked if they could jam a little here at the trailer. I came home, and there was a little party going on, hookah-smoking, cake and vodka, and a steady flow of fellas drawn to the music. All-in-all, not a bad gathering at all, especially considering that one of my insecurity complexes is hanging around musicians (true story). It would probably be worse if a troupe of Cirque du Soleil performers were blowing lines off my kitchen counter--- those people are gorgeous and probably listen to cheesier music....

You might notice me wearing my cool hat that I bought in Crete years ago, on a blissful sun-drenched Mediterranean escape with Craig. I look pretty good. What, me worry?

______

Here is a great grafitto from a highly-American section of Jerusalem. ("grafitti" is plural, don't ya know?)

I Can be a Bit Melodramatic

But that don't mean it ain't real. I dunno, that's how I am. Some people only talk in an undertone. Some people never laugh out loud. Some people get soup all over their chins when they eat.

Then again, some people know how to deal. But is it that they've learned how to deal, or that's just their temperament? Like sitting in a Chinese restaurant-- Whoozis is freezing cold, and Whatsisname is complaining about how damn hot it is in this place.

Me? I can be a bit melodramatic. I open wide. I let it all in. I don't filter. Or if I do filter, it's usually towards the bittersweet. Stuie-- let in more sweet!!!!!

_____
Learning begins again on Sunday, and the plan is (ahem) to finally get myself on a learning program that is invigorating, purposeful and realistic. The idea is that I need to find a way to totally immerse myself in learning, since that's what I'm here to do. Make love to the books.

That's the plan.
That's the plan.
_______
someone send me a link to a good traffic counter i can embed on this blog; my attempts to just close eyes and let go, post proudly into space, ample comments or not-- that ain't working. I'm too needy, as we know.

Esta also says:

i like the fact that Negative Creep is the name of a classic Nirvana tune. Mom writes sweet stuff. too bad she never CALLS MY TROUBLED ASS:

instead of going back to suckyville don't put so
much weight on someones feelings that you cannot
control and be happy for the time you had and stay
happy till the next happy time comes and maybe that
will be the one it's obvious that the sucky
pattern doesn't work so try a level plain some
level of happy and no sucky vibes or words MOVE ON
and get back into study and forget the past

grab onto a thought that makes you happy and think of
it whenever the negative creeps in and stop it in it's
tracks try it keep busy that works also
surround yourself with happy people also

"Alway look on the bright side of life"
try it you might like it

love mommy

Momma knows best

Esta says--

since this is the beginning of a new year, try being happy and toss those bad traits you mentioned in your blog in the ocean and don't let them creep in again and move on to a new life of positive thoughts those good traits mentioned and not so much in your head and finding fault with yourself and someone wonderful will find youhave a happy NEW year

Tikkun (A Correction)

I was unfair in one small point on the previous post.

I was not, in fact, "tossed to the wayside," as I stated, and I apologize to the one whom that sarcastic blurting-out offended.

The whole post was an indulgence of my sense of being a victim, but not a victim of a particular person, more like a victim of the Universe, nasty ol' Universe it is. The particular person in question, when pressed by me, had made a decision about our relationship from a place of difficulty and honesty. That decision is causing her pain as well, and I appreciate her ability to be strong and clear and not lead either of us to a place of deeper pain or confusion.

The record is set straight.

Great News

Three items of exciting value:

1) Hey! Reader response to my Torah on Sukkot (previous post) was so amazing (see the flood of comments), that I am encouraged to write even more, to open myself and offer my thoughts even more frequently! Stay tuned!

2) Recent surveys suggest that an increase in bitter sarcasm and lashing out at one's readers and friends does nothing to enhance the atmosphere of love and community on one's website, and may even anger and drive away friends. Nevertheless, the staff at Wanderingstu, eager to give you more of what you love, has chosen to ignore this information, and actually increase the sense of bitterness and anger on the blog. Just for you!

3) For those of you who were worried that recent developments in my romantic life posed a threat to the International "Stu Unloved" Conservation Campaign (I-SUCC: 3 years running and still going strong!), fear no more:

Luckily, after a few weeks of possibly thinking that I had met someone really wonderful and fitting, I am back in the game! A free man, praise the Lord (for He is all Love). No more having to try to learn to understand another person's way of being in the world, no more being aware of how my words and actions affect someone else. No more imagining that maybe someday I will be involved in a vital partnership in this life. Phew! Back to puttering around my trailer, skipping class, sleeping a lot, eating too much... the good stuff.

That said, if there's any fiesty young ladies out there who are eager to meet a guy who is:

• Occasionally Charming but usually Moody and Depressed
• Funny as Hell but often Offensive & Obnoxious
• Talented but Aimless & Unfocused
• Extremely Lovable but Evidently ABSOLUTELY UNKEEPABLE; (ie- unworthy of an actual long-term relationship)
• Honest and Straightforward
• (sometimes bitingly sarcastic and bitter)
• Nice, Compassionate, Conscientious, Caring (worthless qualities-- sorry, i'm working on getting rid of them)
  

-hey! if this sounds like the kind of guy with whom YOU'D like to spend a few weeks and then toss to the wayside, you know where to find me.

Happy Holidays!

To Dwell in Pleasantness

The Fabulous Festival of Sukkot begins tonite!

Here are some pictures from the first Sukkah we built at East Lake Commons in Atlanta, back in 2001. All natural, framed with long branches lashed together with ivy, not a single man-made item used in the entire structure. (The roof in this pic may not be kosher; i tried to move the bamboo around enough to keep it covered, but I'm not sure... it was a good time nonetheless.)






These last two are from a later year, when I was not there, but they give a good sense of the overall structure and atmospehere of the ELC Sukkah in all it's glory.






This year will be the sixth year of the ELC Sukkah. Paul Marquardt and Jim Lando have kept it going all these years, Baruch Hashem.






My yeshiva-mate Eitan Levy (the guy in the middle in this picture, which was on a previous post right here at The Stu) just started a blog, and my existential meanderings prompted the first post. Read on!

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My friend Caren Philips has been suffering a very very hard time. Her husband Steve, who was an amazing athlete, biking hundreds of miles through the mountains, running long-distances, bringing much joy into this world, had a terrible heart attack and is now in a persistent vegetative state. Caren has been maintaining updates on the site of her shul in Boulder.

I wrote her today, some thoughts about Sukkot. Just a flow, really, but I wanted to share.

More on Sukkot in the future. Much love.

i didn't proofread this. or reread it for logic or accuracy. it's just a friday-morning flow. hope it benefits.
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The Sukkah--- it IS about trusting God, but it is also about permanence, or its lack. the Sukkah is a temporary structure. By definition it protects you from the harsh burn of the sun. To the Greeks, the Sun was linked with Apollo, who represents truth- Emet. I don't know what us Yidden say about the sun, but i reckon the connection works by us as well.

The Sukkah protects from the harsh burn of Emet, the kind of Emet that is untempered by love. The Emet of something like-- your beloved husband is struck down mercilessly with no warning. The Sukkah a refuge from the brutality of that din.

But it is not like the safety of home. It has to be able to withstand mild winds, yes, but even a little rain gets in, and in a storm, the whole thing might go a-rollin' down into the valley.

The whole thing about Schach is that it is temporary. The Sukkah is a temporary structure. Like our lives. Like our bodies. When we are in the Sukkah we realize that all the things to which we grasp are so tenuous. They could slip away at any moment, come crashing down with the right wind.

I've been thinking a lot about the verse in Psalm 147:
Lifnei Karato, mi Ya'amod?
Before His cold, who could stand?

in some ways, God, Flinger of Ice, Blower of Frigid Snows,
is just cold cold cold. too cold for us to withstand.
and if He wanted to blast our Sukkah with an early frost (or if you were doing Sukkot in Alaska), you wouldn't stand a chance.

And yet.

And yet Sukkot is called The Chag-- THE Festival-- a time of ample joy and celebration. The Talmud describes the nightly Water Drawing at the Temple during Sukkot as wild revelries, with the great Sages doing amazing flips and gymnastics, fire-twirling, dancing, leaping into the air----

Somehow, in the midst of this radical awareness of frailty, massive joy is unleashed. The Water Drawing took place at the Temple itself, the "permanent" structure, God's sukkah. Maybe there's a clue there. WE dwell in impermanence, but the House of God is hosting a major party every night, and we are invited.

We read Psalm 27 every day, from Elul all the way through the High Holidays and Sukkot. It's got that great line-- Achat Sha'alti--- One thing I ask from God-- Let me dwell in the House of God all the days of my life, to gaze upon the pleasantness of God, and to visit His Courtyard

I think that's connected.

How to make that reality, I dunno. Meditate on it. Somehow, Hashem is both unbearable freezing cold, and desirable pleasantness. And in the Sukkah, we are reminded of both, reminded of the fact that, no matter how brutal the storm winds are, the ultimate Dwelling Place is one of No'am-- Pleasantness

challenges

how many days after Yom Kippur is it? do you remember it? do you remember praying, crying, vowing; the realigning you did way back then? do you remember how you bled for your Immortal Soul and all the stupid things your feeble body has done to deprive Her of love and light? you actually bled for the pain of your soul. right on the book. do you remember?

and then there's the trick of opening up your being to totally receive the Light of another, while simultaneously emanating your own Light, without stumbling, without fearing, purely Being, constantly grateful. just holding the space between you. holding, honoring, witnessing the life of another discrete being. Shiviti Hashem l'negdi tamid- I place God before/against me always.

or, even better,
the amazing dance of patience, slow breathing, chewing each bite thirty-seven times, pulling back your frantic ego and letting the Universe unfold before you; just smiling because you know that the opportunity to play the game is worth the price of admission.

sometimes it burns. like when you're cutting a chili pepper, and the oils get on your hand, then you touch your mouth or some other place, and after a few minutes your flesh is on fire. there's nothing you can do but smile, sip your coffee and enjoy the pain of it all. eventually it will go away, and then dinner will be served.

something like that
______

this is me and my pal Lev Israel Stark. he's super! check us out (with another cute pal) at Lev's very own site, Superstarks!
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i've given up my grudge and begun calling my mother again-- someone call me! (even you, Mrs. Berkowitz)

atonement

last night, after Yom Kippur maariv (evening services), I was doing a little praying out of Likutei Tefilot, a book of prayers inspired by (of course) the work of Rebbe Nachman of Breslov, written by his disciple, Rabbi Natan (Reb Noson, not to be confused with Rav Natan, the head fo my Yeshiva). I was reading a rather emotional piece, crying out how small and feeble I was, a putrid lump, a clod of dirt... and was crying heavily. I reached a section that said something to the effect of: If I was truly aware of even a tiny bit of the thousands of myriads of misdeeds that I have committed, there would be no place on earth that would be able to contain my screams. Something like that. I wept even harder, and felt the tears spilling down my face, dripping onto the book and lectern below me.

Then suddenly the dripping felt too intense for tears. I looked down, and watched huge drops of blood splashing down from my left nostril. I had been crying so hard that my nose busted open. A small puddle was on the lectern, and two drops had splattered onto the book. I grabbed the bandanna from my pocket, and ended up smearing the blood all over the book, which is now a gory testament to the scale of my emotions this Yom Kippur.

And, yep. That's the tale for now. Huh. I've felt a little far from this blogging effort lately. I dunno if it's just me, or if it's a sense of a lack of a worshipful public, or what. Anyway, we are on break now for the next 3 weeks, which include Sukkot and Simchat Torah. I am hoping to visit some of my cousins, travel a bit up north, and spend lots of time with a certain young lady with whom I have been spending lots of time of late.

More on Yom Kippur later (no promises).

Amazing

Some day, when we're sitting around sipping iced tea and sharing an avocado and arugula sandwich, remind me to tell you about the time a bus full of Hasids fresh from the Ukraine picked me up in the middle of the night at exactly the right time on exactly the right night after Rosh Hashanah, when all was wild and new and bursting with the spark of future growth.

I Am an Israeli Woman

In a very unceremonious hand-off of documentation today, I officially became a citizen of the State of Israel. There was no fanfare, no balloons, no speeches, but nonetheless, it's official. I am a dual-citizen.

And I am a woman. Take a look at the lower right side of my Teudat Zehut (Identity Card). The second word from the bottom says n'kevah (spelled nun-kuf-bet-heh), which means "female." Whoops. I plan on using this new status to enter as many synagogues as I can through the backdoor, to hug religious girls, and to wear skirts in public.

Also of interest is a comparison of my US Passport photo and my Israeli ID photo, with a time differential of about 8 years. Youch.

And, for fun, this picture was taken in the Yeshiva Beit Midrash (study hall) using the camera built into Eitan Levy's new MacBook computer. Eitan's the guy in the middle. Aaron on the left is the guy whose stomach problems gave us a fun night at the Hadassah emergency room a few weeks back, the day I got to see the famous Chagall windows.


This is the last post before Rosh Hashanah-- I haven't been feeling so inspiring (or inspired) lately, so I will keep it simple-- have a wonderful new year, may you all be inscribed for Blessing in the Book of Life, for a year of joy, love, productivity and communion.

Shana Tova.

Be well.

More food for horrified imaginative excursions from the US Military

Read this fun piece about a potential gang war in the Army. This would make a great comic book series or HBO Drama or theme album by Johnny Cash and Radiohead, but will probably end up as a movie with Nick Cage.

My favorite bit:

The executive director of the National Major Gangs Task Force, Edward Cohn, said those numbers do not come as a shock. "People are initially surprised that there are gangs in the military, but really it shouldn't be a surprise," he said. "For somebody to believe there are no gangs in the military would be very naive."

Mr. Cohn also said some gang members refine their techniques in the Army. "There is a sophistication there," he said.

Reminds me of that scene from Spinal Tap with Martin Short. Not that I can remember the scene, but it reminds me of that. Check the comments, Erik will be along soon to quote the scene for me.

Also new and fun in the US Military are White Supremacists, some of whom are using the valuable training paid for by YOUR TAX MONEY to prepare for some down home ethnic cleansing back Stateside.

Ugh-- I had a great picture of the adorable White Supremacist Pop-Rock duo Prussian Blue, but the images aren't loading onto the blog. But they sure are cute. Click for more White fun here and see the picture, and unlock a whole new world of white power. Not surprisingly, last year's big event went down in Florida. I used to think, back in the old days, that Florida, with its safe, race-blending mix of Cubans, Haitians and Jews, was a haven of good ol' American muttry. Heh. Guess not.

Jesus save us.

the fire.

Lukas, who is a cousin of Craig's, and an initiate into Native American ritual, asked me a question, which is to be found as the sole comment to the previous post. Sometime soon he will sit with his brothers and sisters around the sacred fire, eat the medicine and seek communion with the One Who Is, Was and Will Be, and with the ancient wise grandfathers who walked the paths of life before him.

Here's part of my answer to him:

-fire.
fire
fire in my soul.
a focused, burning, clarifying fire that would sear away all the years of stagnation and calcification that has clogged the machine.
fire in my soul that drives my mind and body to strive eagerly for perfection, holiness, strength.

or

a simple joy.
a simple joy that simmers at the bottom of my soul like a sweet autumn potpourri, fragrant and warm in any situation.

or

a journey.
a trip back to 1979 to meet a little five-year old sitting in his room and playing quietly, probably already overwhelmed with thoughts and notions of being different, already a little freaked out by his dad, sitting on the floor and creating worlds of escape and adventure on his floor. i would go back and watch that little guy play, then give him a big hug, shed a few tears with him, and give him something, some sort an amulet to let him know how much the world is waiting for him, how excited we are for him to grow up and to be happy, happy little Shimshon Stuart Bennett Siegel, international superstar.

Aho.

some words to feed your hunger

man.
it's been a week since i posted.
man.

this is a short update, because i don't want to let you all down....

it's been a hard week, as far as learning goes. The learning day goes from 8:45 am - 7:15 pm, 10.5 hours, with 2 hours in the middle for praying and lunch. Out of the 8.5 hours of learning time, 3.5 are the morning Gemara (Talmud) period, which includes lessons with Rav Natan (shiurim) and studying with a partner (chevruta learning).

My connection to the Gemara has been crap this week. For various reasons. But crap, that's the point. And, in my way, I spin off of the catalyst of crappy learning (which manifests as my mind refusing to budge another inch on a difficult passage) and plummet into a general grouchiness/despair/rage, which usually results in a nap. Like a 4-year old gets a nap after a good tantrum.

Huh.

In other news, I gave my passport to the woman from the Ministry of the Interior. When I get it back, it will have a new visa in it, the visa of a NEW IMMIGRANT. Exciting.

BUY ME!!!!!!!

I am trying to sell my car.
It lives in Atlanta.

2001 Mitsubishi Mirage DE 2-Door Coupe (almost typed "soup"-- aw hell, if you buy the car, I will buy you a can of hot soup! Hot in the can even!)

It's a sportyish little stick shift thing, comfy, fun to drive, good mileage, etc etc

$4037.72 (plus 627 Romanian Lei for fees, approx 9 cents US)

if you know ANYONE interested, let them and me know!!!!!!

thanks.
____

I just noticed that i say "...Heh" a lot recently. Is that bad? Is it annoying? Is it a sign of my increasing cynicism? Arrogance? Emotional remove from the world? Should I be worried? Or is it just a little trademark of that indomitable WanderingStu style? Did I spell that correctly? ...heh.

____

Yesterday we had a meeting with all the guys who are starting the Smicha program here at the Yeshiva. Smicha means "becoming a Rabbi." Samuch means "leaning, resting, relying on." Smicha refers to the ancient ceremony, as seen in such famous books as The Bible, in which authority is transmitted to the next generation by the elder laying his hands on the head of the new leader. It also suggests that the Rabbi now gives his support to the young initiate, or possibly that the tradition in the elder Rabbi's hands is not resting on the new Rabbi, who will carry it into the future.

In our meeting yesterday, no one touched anyone. We just discussed a few details about the next 4-5 years. It's an exciting time in the Yeshiva. We haven't had a large group of guys working on becoming Rabbis together, as a group, in a while. Right now there are 7 or 8 guys, with at least one more coming in February. Auspicious beginnings.

By my car.

Siegel Family Hits the Internet

Me and Val became the most famous people in the world last week, at least for a minute, when we both appeared in various places on the Internet.

Valerie is Reform Judaism's Youth Worker of the Month.

They call her a WOMAN, they say she's DEDICATED, they call her UNIQUE-- all pretty good, if you ask me.
She's doing a great job out there in Atlanta. Maybe we should work out a program whereby she sends her Youth Group kids to Bat Ayin for the WanderingStu Jew Makeover... heh

As for me, they call me a traitor, a lefty, a non-Jew, a threat... Heh.
For more on that, look up "Shimshon Siegel" or "Acharei Hamilchama"
or click some of these and be sure to read the comments section as well.
CLICK HERE!
NO! Click ME! I appeared on ABC news and Yahoo! as well!
Click here! I have the most comments from angry right-wing Jews

Great weekend activity ideas from the US Military

Hey kids!
Summer's over, but the good times keep going in the Fall! As the world careens towards global war, some of our boys (and girls) in Iraq are keepin' it light by always remembering to have a good time.

And now you can too!

If are looking for something unique to spice up your weekend get-togethers with family or friends, the US Military's new GUIDE TO ALL-AMERICAN FUN offers some excellent suggestions:

...forced nakedness, hooding and other procedures that have become infamous during the five-year-old war on terror. ...beating prisoners, sexually humiliating them, threatening them with dogs, depriving them of food or water, performing mock executions, shocking them with electricity, burning them, causing other pain and a technique called “water boarding” that simulates drowning, said Lt. Gen. John Kimmons, Army Deputy Chief of Staff for Intelligence.

Talk about a Barbecue Get-Together to remember!

For more on this exciting new publication, click with pleasure here.

it's on me...

I love it! The first debate on wanderingstu!!
You know, other people's blogs, like Eliezer Israel's Wilderness City (see link on the right), have these intense debates with 20 or more comments on a single post. But he's talking about the legitimacy of homosexuality in a religious context, and I'm talking about my own debt. So.

I have comments on the comments on the previous post, but for now, this clever appeal:

I am coming home in January/February for the wedding of Jason Rogers and Sarah Kravitz. If I accumulate another 40,000 skymiles by then, i can come for free! I accumulate miles by swiping my Skymiles American Express card. So, if you have any major purchases to make, and if I trust you (ahem)-

Don't Leave Home Without Me.

serious.
it's a plan. it could work. keep me in mind
___
in other news, i am planning a bit of an upgrade to the content of the blog here-- gonna try to post regularly, and with more info about my actual life here, not just my tangentials. Stay tuned....

they have important things to blog

debriefing the war, the coming attack on iran, hurricanes in the gulf, elections, murders, cancer.....

me?

I just fully accepted the fact that I am ONE-HUNDRED THOUSAND DOLLARS in debt,
with little chance of ANY INCOME for the next 4 or 5 years.

it seemed so easy, just to think, "hell, i'm living in new york, i'm in school, i have expenses... what can i do?
in a few years i will have a sweet job as a Reform Rabbi, and I'll get that debt paid off right quick."

heh.

we are doing a Spiritual Growth workshop on fear-- regaining a healthy sense of the Fear of Heaven (or the Awe of God, if you like). Our textual model is the Israelites standing at the sea before it split, having no sense at all of where they are going, or how they will survive.

You just gotta look at that sea, see its turbulent waters, and jump.

rock

That's me and Avner, the Yellow Submarine cat, before last night's show (which took place at Jerusalem hot spot Yellow Submarine). The show came off purty darn well. We had around 100 people, and, in the end, probably raised about $1000 for civilian relief. The costs of the show were about $800 or so. Damn costs.


This is Saz- a rapper from Ramle. He is an Israeli citizen, and raps in Arabic and Hebrew and English, and does this excellent bit where he busts out all these wacky sound effects like the guy from Police Academy, but way smoother. Very cool guy. If you are in New York, look for a show called the HIP HOP SULHA, a Palestinian & Israeli collaboration, Sept 13 at SOB's. He will be performing, along with Sagol 59, who also played our show.

This is Shmuel Nelson. We were in Yeshiva together here in Bat Ayin 7 years ago. I sang Prince;s song 7 with his band at the wedding of my friends Avraham Eliezer and Shoshana. One of band members described the act, called, Eden Mi Qedem (The Primordial Eden..) as "U2 with a Middle Eastern flair." Check out their site. Truly gorgeous, amazing stuff.

That's all I'm posting now. It's late late late. More concert pics soon.

aw fer cryin' out loud

more later, but just a little whine--- i am EXHAUSTED, and my stomach has revolted against me again. Spend much of Shabbat in BED, and what wasn't in bed was at the BEACH (yay), or playing with ETHIOPIAN CHILDREN or flirting with this foxy ETHIOPIAN GAL.

NOW I AM USING CAPITAL LETTERS AND LISTENING TO BEN FOLD'S AT DAN'S HOUSE,
AND AM 13 minutes from passing out

Yeshiva starts tomorrow,
and YOU are neglecting me.
so kiss my tuchas.

love.

Frustrated? Frustrated.

• MP3 player: lost
• Concert co-organizers: exhausted, frazzled, periodically sad
• Weather: hot
• Me: exhausted, frazzled, periodically sad
• Donations from America: ceased
• Comments from many Jews on this concert: hateful, mean, one-sided
• Press response to the concert: mediocre
  
• Communications with family: sparse and unfulfilling
• Personal spiritual development: nil
• Personal physcial fitness: nil
• Personal creative expression: yer lookin' at it
• People in the streets: rude, uninterested, cold, untrusting

I mean, when you see a guy who looks like a hippie, with linen harem pants and a big floppy hat and lots of colors on and longish hair and a beard, how would you think he might react when you approach him with a flier and say in Hebrew, "concert to raise money for those in need"?????? Don't hippies love music and helping and talking to new people? That fraud hippie wouldn't even LOOK at me, let alone take a flier, let alone say hello.

This one girl asked me 20 questions before indicating her refusal to take a flier by glaring at me. Why would some little twit prefer to sneer and interrogate me about what the flier says, rather than just read the damn thing herself? Why wouldn't you stop for a minute and check out what kinda concert this guy in the bright green shirt is promoting?

I'm wearing a damn BRIGHT GREEN SHIRT!!!!!!!!!!! With a little prismatic heart pinned to my breast. Isn't that reason enough to see what I'm going on about? Punkass fake hippie. I bet he talks all this love and brotherhood crap to bed chicks, when the fact is that he's a hateful, anti-social weenie.

Weenie. Little Israel twit. I hope her nails break. YEAH, I'm spiteful. And I'm raising funds to help the enemy.

Now I understand why i like the religious community. Even if some folks might be a little too tripped-out or pious or racialist or smelly or if they use "it's all good man, it's all from Hashem," as a mode to evade personal responsibility, at least they're frickin' NICE. If you walked up to a "hippie" Yid with a flier for a concert, he'd definitely check it out. And invite you for Shabbes. And comment on your great shirt.
_______
By the way, I need a replacement for "hippie" to describe the community. We sure ain't all hippies. I was never a hippie. I mean, I guess like 75% of the commnunity likes the Grateful Dead, or did at some time, but i feel like "hippie" disenfranchises someone like me, who might be better labelled "Well-Travelled Suburban Funk." Because I'm not a hippie.
_______
I hit a moment today at the print shop where I couldn't speak English or Hebrew. Total brain freeze. I want a burrito. And a day on the beach. I haven't been to the beach all summer.
_______
Oh yeah. It took about 11 tries to get that photo. In the first seven I was smirking horribly. Bad actor. No gold statue.

even i have the right to be bugged

Some T-shirts take rude cracks at the person reading the shirt. Some indulge in self-deprecation of the wearer. Well this morning, as I walked back from the printer after making emergency changes in the Hebrew spelling of humanitarian on our concert poster, I saw a shirt that did both:

Just because I'm nobody doesn't mean you're not irritating

What a great shirt. On the one hand, the guy is accepting his smallness, his uselessness in life. And yet, like the Mouse Man desperately bellowing from his little nest, demanding his voice be heard, he asserts the right to be substantial enough to critique the unsavory behavior of his fellow.

"Don't think," he squeaks, that just because I am hardly a speck in this cold universe, that I don't feel, that I don't react to your ill-informed overtures, flawed attempts at interaction and dreadful personal style. I may be nothing, but I'm something enough to see what YOU are."

Then I looked online (curse that Internet!) to see if I could find the shirt. I did:

Just because I'm moody doesn't mean you're not irritating

Whoops. Not a bad shirt at all. Funny, cynical, and quite relevant in times of war, where a pointed finger is often used to deflect any calls for self-reflection or mutual admission of guilt. I may be a jerk, but you ain't so hot yourself. Also good for use against those folks who like to grab onto your moodiness and make a case out of it: Oh wow, you sure are in a mood, i'll stay out of your way, heh heh, who peed in your cornflakes, i'll keep my distance from you this morning, hey man, there's no need to get angry man, just let it flow..

But you know me, friends, it's the Dosoevskian battle of the one man with his place in society that captures my imagination. Not that Dostoevsky would be against pitting a righteous grouch against an annoying populace. In any event, maybe I'll get the "nobody" slogan on a T-shirt one day, all for me. Although, in the final analysis, moody might be a better description of me than nobody...

some day...

It's for REAL (and for Israel)

We got our first press coverage!!
Israel's Arutz Sheva, a right-wing, settler-oriented news organization, just put this up on their site.
CLICK HERE!!

cool.

Hit the Street!

Hey-- if you are in Israel right now, we need your help for our street team to promote our benefit concert, K'vod haBriot, which is taking place next Monday, 8/28, at Yellow Submarine.

See the previous 2 posts for more info.

Right now we have booked Eden Mi Qedem (Shmuel Nelson), hip hop artists Sagol59 and Saz, and hopefully Coolooloosh (or at least their frontman Rebel Son), Marsh Dondurma and Lenses.

We are confirming acts and hitting the Israeli press in the next 2 days, and then doing poster and flier blitzing and pre-sale of tickets the rest of this week.

ANY FORM OF HELP IS GREATLY APPRECIATED

If you are around at all this week, please call me-- 054-221-5100 and let me know when you can help. the more help we get, the more of an impact this event can have. if you know friends that might want to help, put them in touch with me as well.

and, as always, feel free to donate-- go back 2 posts for donation info.

thanks!! i love youse

my own little pinko, jew-hating left hippie idea, in print....

Actually, not "my own," but "me and Amy and Dan's own..."
Amy's mom rocks the world and sent us this editorial from The Forward (Deh Foiwahds)"

It’s a safe bet that donations will pour in from around the world for the victims in Lebanon. It’s equally likely that Israel will be left to rely on its own resources, coupled with whatever help it can get from world Jewry and perhaps the American Congress. Even after the killing has ended, the humanitarian reconstruction efforts could easily become one more part of the inexorable drift toward polarization and, eventually, new conflict.

Or people of good will could choose another path. Friends of Israel could begin planning now to direct a portion of its fundraising proceeds to Lebanese relief, in the hope that other international relief agencies will reciprocate and direct a portion of their Middle East aid to rebuilding northern Israel.

See that? An acknowledgment of Israeli's unfortunate position in the international community, directly followed by a call for us to HELP THE OTHER TEAM. What? Even though WE WE WE are suffering and need help, and even though THEY THEY THEY are gonna get help from all those other nations-- we still can stand up and reach out. We can try to operate from a new paradigm, one not based on bitterness and finger-pointing, one that might ultimately prove foolish in the end, but one that is based on hope, and a quiet confidence that, even rejected, our sense of love and justice demands expression, and sees beyond today's conflict into the chance for a more unified tomorrow.

Hashem Echad-- remember that one?

it's all hopeless, there's nothing i can do...

...that's how i usually feel about most things these days, especially when people write me and demand that i single-handedly end the violence in Lebanon.

Well, inspired by a bit of rebuke I recently received regarding my living-dead approach to life, I have joined with my friends Amy and Mobius, the Orthodox Anarchist, to arrange a benefit concert for refugees of the war. The best part is that we decided to split all proceeds evenly between an organization that helps refugees in Israel's North, and an organization that helps refugees in Lebanon. We are booking Jewish and Arab acts, ethnic music, Middle Eastern-inspired rock, and hip-hop, and planning for a big ol' dance-a-rama.

So now there's something you can do.

Either come to Israel soon so you can dance with us, or SEND MONEY!! Even if you got limited funds, you can afford to send $10 to help folks who have been driven out of their homes or, worse, had their homes destroyed. Think of the children, the cute little Jewish and Lebanese children, who lay in strange beds every night, or are hiding in some bomb shelter, never knowing if they will ever see their beloved SpongeBob plush doll again (not to mention their Patrick and Squidward toys).

So get out your checkbooks, and help us demonstrate that, no matter what your politics, no matter what your take on the war, there is ALWAYS room to have compassion for any citizens who are affected by war.

Some of the donations (hopefully a very small amount) are needed to secure the theater for the show. That's why I am appealing to you today, ahead of the event. If we can gather pledges from friends in the States, and see that we have garnered ample support, we can make the event even bigger, and attract more donations and press attention.

If you are reading this on the blog, please send a comment pledging a generous amount-- ($10 would be nice; $100 would be amazing). If you are receiving this as an email, please respond to me directly.

Thank you so much for helping me help take some positive action here in this crazy time, from the side of love and universal compassion.

Peace upon all of us,
and soon.

-Shimshon Stu

You can send US donations to Mobius' organziation, Matzat:
Matzat
472 Henley Avenue
New Milford, NJ 07646

or PayPal to -- info@matzat.org.il

just be sure to make obvious notation that the money is for the REFUGEE FUND, or
Mobius will pocket the cash for his own sinister intentions. Matzat is in the process of getting non-profit status, so Tax Deduction info can be sent to you retroactively.

if you are in Israel, we are right now only equipped to handle cash donations. so yer gonna have to trust me.

truths from the bottom of the treasure chest

the honest truth is that, since day one (or at least day 11), wanderingstu has dreamed of being a radical, subversive, groundbreaking, pioneering, wild and wooly, sexy and sophisticated, international, cosmopolitan, inter-disciplinary fancy artist-interlectshual-literati type, having long and convoluted conversations about deep deep stuff mingled with clever meaningless fluff in exotic locales with other brilliant, convoluted, radical subversive artsy-brainy types.

perhaps he even wanted that before it became cool to want that.
he still wants it, in that "wanting it" kinda way.

but... but... but...

i am the walrus

Oy. War, politicals, the eternal "question" of the Jews.
Some points to ponder.

• The Israeli government is not the Israeli citizenry.
• The Israeli government is not the Jewish people.
• The Israeli miltary is not reading the Torah as its strategy manual.
• Hamas, Hizbollah and that little Iranian man are not the Arab people.
• Nor are they Islam.
• The death in Lebanon is not the Zionist dream.
• The current State of Israel is not utopia, or perfection, or the utter fulfilment of the Zionist dream.
• The Zionist dream is not necessarily the same as the eternal dream of the Jewish people to come home.
• The actions, biases, misdeeds and possible gross offenses of the Zionists of 50, 70, 100 years ago are not the core identity of every Israeli citizen, Jewish person or modern-day Zionist.
• Leaders are biased, have agendas, are swayed by self-interest and ideology.
• Politicians use the people's money (Bush, Arafat, Sharon..... all of them)
  

The mistakes of the past are ours to not repeat.
They are ours to rectify, God-willing with compassion, wisdom and subjugation of our egos.

• A modern-day American is not an Indian killer.
• I did not evcuate Arab villages in the 40s.
• German teens living in Berlin today did not slaughter Jews in WWII.

I am not South Florida, I am not Boston University, I am not the State of Israel, I am not the war in Iraq. I might be Tiger Woods, or a coffee achiever, and I am definitely going overboard here. This post has gone beyond the tight little bullet-list I intended.

You gotta gotta sort these things out before judging.

Oh yeah, one more, the universal truth of untruth-

Your news source is biased. Period. Period. The news is not a record of an event, neither is a video or a photograph. It is an interpretation. And reporting the news is someone's JOB. They get PAID for it.

Unless you read The Onion. That's truth unfettered.
____

Postscript- Tom Meade is the future of human consciousness.

wand'rin stu unfurls his little flag

whoops.
i got all political for a second here (Rav Yehoshua will be proud).
This guy (click the pretty words) is a friend of a friend. After reading this post (or click here) on his blog, I wrote this retort:
____________________
i reckon that the funky, Diet Sprite-drinkin' Beiruit literati with whom you are so down to bust some Mos Def rhymes ain't within a hundred shades of lavender to the radical Muslims who are closing their eyes as they randomly pop hundreds of rockets into the Israeli North. You paint a picture of the entire Lebanese people rising up against the sudden, unprovoked incursion of the brutal Israeli entity that is hell-bent on stealing their turf.

Are the Purple Rain of Katushya rockets, the thousands upon thousands of Israelis who have fled their homes or have spent their summer in a bomb shelter, the kidnapping of 2 Israeli soldiers (6 years after Israel withdrew all troops from Lebanon)---> are those imaginary???

Your "Fuck Hizbollah" comes across as a pleasant bit of canned rage just in case you get accused of being a lefty terror sympathizer. But your image of a microphone-rockin', manic panic-dyein, IPA-swillin' team of Beret-wearing victims of Jewish brutality is a little far from the mark. Those Hizbollah guys would put your sympathy on a stake and shove it up your Western Arse just as quickly as they would eat my Jew liver (without onions, as they throw back a cool Sammy).

Be real and be fair, not just over-spicy and misinformed.

Kisses.

Alexander M. Siegel, 1944-2003

Tonite is my Daddy's Yahrzeit. He died on August 13, three years ago. On the Hebrew calendar, he died on the 15th of the month of Av. That's last night and today. The 15th of Av is also called Tu b'Av, because the number 15 is written with the letters Tet-Vav, which spell Tu. Tu b'Av has become like Valentine's Day for mainstream Israelis. Religiously, it is a semi-festival, supposedly a good time for boys to meet girls. There are many themes relating to marriage, expecially inter-tribal marriage, that are ascribed to Tu b'Av in the Talmud. Some say it is like a Jewish Sadie Hawkins Day, when girls have the right to grab a husband, rather than vice versa. So Alex, whose life was 78% about looking at girls, is now eternally merged with a day all about girls, love, and gettin' together.

In honor of Alex's Yahrzeit (Avraham ben Shaul haLevi, z"l), I led prayers at the shul last night, lit a big candle, and took myself out for a quiet, delicious dinner and writing session at Gavna, the restaurant in the woods here in Bat Ayin. If YOU are ever lucky enough to have a date with me, I will take you Gavna (on the second date, not the first). I ate eggplant stuffed with red lentils and red onions and cheese in a salsa rosa with dollops of cream. Yum.

Some notes about Alex:

He was a fan of Wolfman Jack, "America's Favorite DJ," who, like Alex, made a lot of noise and died young.

He loved the work of adult star Ginger Lynn (who doesn't?)...


.....and he also loved Stevie Nicks. He used to say that she was his girlfriend. I believed him, sorta. But it wasn't true. Someone else was.
Born and raised in Brooklyn, Alex liked to put on a cowboy hat and a drawl and pretend he was a redneck, and hang out with folks listening to country music. He had some pretty awesome snakeskin cowboy boots too, and, way back, when he smoked, he smoked Marlboro (before my pleading and complaining led him to quit- heh)








He liked pigs and big belt buckles.


















He also liked black people, and liked to pretend he was black too. I never saw him with a black redneck, which would have certainly pushed his affected accent abilities.

Funny though, because for all the acting like someone he wasn't, and dressing up funny and porn-lovin' and hanging out in the shady part of town, I reckon that Alex was a real man of the people, helping out those who others wouldn't, respecting and associating with the down-and-out, the underpriveleged, the prostitutes, drug dealers, the scramblers for a place in the world as much (if not more) as with the upper-middle-class Jewish professionals of whose social class he was ostensibly a part.

A good example is that case back in the late 80s when this girl was raped outside of a Denny's, and the jury decided against her because she was dressed naughty, and was therefore "asking for it." After the trial, her lawyer ditched her, and Alex took over to help her deal with the press storm (not to say he didn't enjoy the chance to be on Oprah and Larry King). Yeah, she was a crazy cokehead who hung out with transsexuals, but she was also the victim of a personal crime and of a grotesque miscarriage of justice, and Alex was there by her side to make sure no one else took advantage of her.

I have no digital pics of Alex. If you do, send them please.

His funeral, as I have mentioned before, was like the funeral scene at the end of Big Fish: a motley crew of ex-cons, shifty operators, weeping women, an Orthodox Rabbi, a black nightclub owner-turned preacher (my Uncle Tommy), and your assorted well-groomed middle-class Jews. And me. His bewildered, saddened, abandoned, but somehow inspired son.

Here's to ya, Alex, wherever the hell you are now, you sure made a big noise on this earth, and lots of people mourned you when you left.

the crisp snap of words between the teeth

like a delicate biscuit at teatime.
i just discovered this cat's blog. His name is Dash Riprock, and you can buy underwear with his face on it.
check out his double-post dealing with a crisis in bad undershirts.
his linguistic flair is a good reminder that it was their language first.

so read this (you can skip the first paragraph. it's just about war. boring), then this

i also found this fun tidbit from Dash Riprock. What's missing here, BBC??
________________________________
After a lovely little toss of frisbee instigated by Eliezer Israel, I was invigorated and motivated enough to take a shower, belt a healthy gulp of fine Scotch, pack away my depressive funk and risk all my neuroses about musicians, religious hippies, festivals and cute girls in order to check out the music festival that was going on in the forest right here in town.

Thank God I did.... we bought a few bottles of homemade Arak (it's like Sambouca and Ouzo), got a little drink going, marvelled at the majestic beauty of B'not Yisrael (that's the ladies), and did a bit of dancing, a bit of praying, a bit of laughing, a lot of living.

Thanks, Eliezer for the Frisbee of Redemption, and thanks for sticking it in my head that dancing was a form of healing. And welcome back to Bat Ayin (he's renovating hisself one of these nice trailers). And it's good to see your blog back up: wildernesscity.blogspot.com

'Scuse me, while I kiss this guy

postscript to an email from a gal i sorta know in canada:
_________
P.S. [non sequitur: when i was a kid i thought that kiss rock and roll-ed all night and PART OF every day. i was really impressed that they displayed such moderation and good judgement. seriously.]

post-shabbat complaints and ponderings from an over-sensitized cloud of incense smoke

1. It's after Shabbes. I'm burning incense. May it be so for all my days (and not just with incense-- I did some situps and Sun Salutations this morning as well).

2. If you are the person who called me from overseas 6 times in the past 30 hours, including at 1:36am my time-- leave a message!!! I miss you. If you AREN"T the person who called me from overseas, consider the fact that you might suck a little. (972)054-221-5100

3. Comments have been a bit lame on the the blog lately. Not "lame" as in poor quality, but "lame" as in few and far between. You guys want more pics of that HOT Stu Siegel, don't you.

4. Ever listen to Radiohead? Ever listen to music that is sad and highly emotional and makes you feel so-- so-- real? Sometimes I fear that listening to music is detrimental. It's like making love with someone who you've broken up with. It feels so great-- but it's a dead end. It provides nothing for your life that must continue, for your soul that must go on. It-just-feels-good.........

5. Grammar. I believe that the grammatically proper way to write the troublesome sentence in #4 is: It's like making love with someone with whom up you've broken.

Prepositions.

6. Still in a cruddy way. Aimless. Confused.

7. No danger here-- the fighting's in the North and in Gaza, although Gaza is hardly in the news. There are allegations that the Qana massacre was actually a hoax put together by Hizbollah. The funny thing is that folks who normally love conspiracy theories will claim that this one is ridiculous, because it would make those poor Hizbollans look naughty.

Heaven Scent

The core of the problem of wanderingstu:

I love burning incense. I just lit some. The smell of incense in the room inspires, enriches. I love it. I haven't done it in like four months.

today

It was a hard Shabbat, well at least the last few hours; nice evening, dinner at Rav Natan's house with 8 of the 10 kids and a few guys from the Yeshiva. This morning I slept in, didn't davven, read a little, then had a chat with Didi and ate lunch with one of the local families. All quite pleasant. In the afternoon, i was groggy after a nap, my learning partner didn't show up, I couldn't focus, and the blech fell nicely back into place, and I just wanted to utterly vanish, so I went out to the woods to do some Hitbodedut (pouring out the soul to the Big One in the Sky), and shed ample tears and said some pretty harsh things to the Lord, arriving at the conclusion that I'm a frickin' decent guy, and I go out for justice and compassion and all that shit that Isaiah talks about, even when no one else seems to care. Then I got hit by lightning.

Just kidding.
But anyhow, the point of the post is to thank all those folks out there who, having read the last post or not, wrote nice things to me in the past 28 hours, shared their joys, pains and big ideas, and reminded me that I got me some love in this world, even if not enough of it is currently coming directly from me, God or some foxy Israelite princess with a sharp tongue and insinuating eyes.

Thanks.

honest reporting

the kids seemed to like my last burst of cruddy-emotion-blogging, so here you go:

I feel like shit.

I don't wanna do nothing.

I don't know what the hell I'm doing here. I'm lonely. I wonder what Elijah is up to. My dad is dead. I can't sell my car. I haven't really tried. I wish I had a wife, a dog, a job, a house I built myself with big exposed wooden roof beams and jars of sprouting sprouts and fermenting cabbage along the bright kitchen window. I miss that Ol' Amurican Life.. what do I miss? Noodles. Sliced ham. Driving. Mountain Dew. And sometimes I miss Jay Rogers (all nice things, but maybe not enough to fly home for)*. I wish I knew who the hell I was. I wish I had done Yoga all those years. I wish I had had the balls to call that girl that time when I lived in that city.

(oh yeah- there's a war out there somewhere, and friends of friends are dying, and some Jewish guy just got stuffed in the trunk of his own car and burned (nowhere near the actual battle sites)-- but what's all that got to do with MY ANGST????)

I worked a whopping 15 hours of manual labor this week, and I am in agony. This morning and yesterday as well, I lay in bed an extra 2 hours or more because my hands hurt too much, and I couldn't face the world with such discomfort. Yesterday, after laying around, I worked hard for a few hours here and there. Today, nothing. Those Mexican Day laborers in Atlanta put in 10 hours of backbreaking work and don't even sweat.. Me? Five hours and I am dead, and the next day, my hands in such distress that I can't do nothing.

Nothing.

I lay in bed until 9am, then puttered around, prayed (to whom?), puttered around, bought some ice cream, ate matza with humus, then went back to my room and lay in bed for another 2 1/2 hours.

Sweet Jesus Christ! What is this??
Heh. Went on a date last Tuesday, and didn't tell her my web address-- perhaps wanderingstu is the kinda fella a gal should meet only after a few pleasant outings with sweet Shimshon the happy Jewish boy.

Yeah. Well.
There's much more bitching to do, but I don't wanna use up all my material.
Maybe I'll hide in my room this Shabbes with a big can of pickled pigs brains and a pack of Camels (no filter) and blog for hours.

Probably not, but fun to speculate.

Have fun, everyone.

*{and I also [diplomacy in action] miss YOU, Craig, Jen B, Mom, Erik... (who else?)}

precision controls

Here's the schedule as it now stands:

6:00 wake up, go to synagogue for morning prayer
7:30 learn with one of the Rabbis
8:30 breakfast
9:00 work in the garden
12:00 personal spiritual stuff
12:30 go to the spring for a dip
1:00 lunch
1:30 reading, writing, afternoon prayer
3:30 work in the garden
8:30 shower and stretch after a hard day's work
9:00 dinner
9:30 learn with one of the guys
10:30 evening prayer
11:00 get in bed, read, journal, fade into sleepytime

That's the Sunday, Monday, Wednesday, Thursday schedule
Tuesday has more morning gardening, and the afternoon/evening in Jerusalem.
Friday is the same up through lunch, then open time to prepare for Shabat / unwind.

It's all theoretical, of course..
I have yet to stick to it for a full day, and instead of 24 hours of work this week (first 2 days were still on the old study schedule), I did 15.
But that's the schedule.
Thanks to all who contributed. You gave me some great ideas, and great chizuk (pepping up).

Be sure to see today's other entry for the other side of the story.