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.

lost kitties find love

Introducing Mattie & Squeakers.

` ````
Mattie (Matilda Ramona) lives in Atlanta. I found her on the stairs in Valerie's townhouse building during my visit in April. I knocked on all the doors in that building, then posted signs on the gate and mailboxes of the complex. Valerie called the rental office and the Humane Society. She spent a few terrified days hiding under furniture. No one reported her missing or came to claim her. After a bit of excited debate and contemplation, Valerie decided to adopt the little cutie. Mattie was very scared at first, but started warming up to Valerie's apartment while I was still there, and has by now settled into living with her new momma, according to reports.

Squeakers was given to Bat Ayin heartthrob Yedidya by his then-fiancee Erin, who lived at the girls'school in town. At the time, Yedidya was living in the trailer called "Yasmin" (Jasmine), with David Fuchs. When Yedidya and Erin got married and moved up to the married folks' trailers (at about the same time that I was finding Mattie on the stairs), David Fuchs became Squeakers' official poppa. When I came back to Israel after Passover and moved into the Yasmin trailer with David Fuchs, I became Squeakers' other Dad. Previously I had had little interaction with Squeakers, except I once rescued her from being stuck in a tree.

Squeakers and I had a rough start, because She is INSANE, and likes to attack people's feet, and bites whenever you try to love on her and tears everything to shreds, , especially toilet paper (David laughing all the while). Over the months she has mellowed, and we have gotten to be friendly, and now that David is in America (and got engaged- Mazal Tov!!!), we spend more time together. I even let her sleep on my bed last night, because she has a wounded leg, and was fighting violently with Tooey the cat, and was rather traumatized. In fact, after I pulled her into the house and threw rocks and epithets at Tooey, Squeakers continued to growl aggressively as she gulped down her food, the sort of violent growl that cats usually save for the most threatening of situations. As far as I could tell, the food was not presenting any immediate danger.

Here, for the record, is David Fuchs. See if you can ID the t-shirt. I have no idea why he has that shirt, nor does he. He's never been to the establishment thus advertised.









Squeakers and Mattie. Two cats who found their way into my life in April. Kinda funny, huh? Maybe it's a sign that my zivvug is a redhead...

save a life! win a prize!

IT IS IMPOSSIBLE TO BE SUPERSTU!!!
One of my big crises is that i waste huge blocks of time-- hours, weeks, months, years, and make no net gains in many of the tasks i set for myself. i just dunno how to do it!

someone help me figure out how to plot out a summer schedule that is packed with action and growth, leaving no room for indolence, boredom, isolation, weight gain or chain smoking.....

I want to find a way to do all of the following:
pray
eat
take care of some spiritual tasks that i do each day
work in the garden for pay (as close to full-time as possible)
learn Torah
write short stories
blog
contact you
read fiction
exercise
not go crazy

there are 24 hours a day, 6 usable days per week.
the best mathematician wins a prize
(like an e-hug from me or your name on a plaque some day)

ready...set...go!

(and anyone whose urge is to write me-- "don't bite off more than you can chew," or "you're great the way you are, don't pressure yourself..."
There. I wrote it for you. Thanks.
You only have the right to say that if you are willing to hire me at a reasonable salary for the next five years, and my therapy bills.)

What's in a Name?

This is Stu.
Stu Siegel.
I hate him.
Most of the Stuart Siegels on the web are doctors, real estate investors or CEOs. Mostly doctors, with all sorts of fun middle initials, like N: Stuart N. Siegel. Or E: Stuart E. Siegel. There's even a Dr. Jacob S. Siegel, S for Stuart. One of the doctors is a BU grad, like me, but 30 years my senior. There is a Stuart C. Siegel center in Virgina, and there is some weird loner in a trailer in the West Bank as well. Most of them are kinda schleppy, kinda Jewy, richer than me, but at least schleppy and Jewy.

Then there's this guy. Not even Stuart, but "Stu." Check out his modelling site, which features other creepily hot guys, many of them with weird names and frightening chins. I wonder if Stu Siegel the model ever reads WanderingStu the wanderer. Maybe I will email the modelling agency and suggest that he do so. I think this guy owes me one for holding down the fort while he goes Stuing around.

P.S. Stuie- I don't really hate ya, babe. How could I, with a punim like that?

some thoughts for tommy and craig (and all y'all)

There are some nice comments on the post from 13 July. This post is a response to some of that. I was gonna post these thoughts in a comment, then figgered it'd work better here, easy-to-read by all:

Tommy-T:
I will have to look into that Jeremiah story and get more info on it. Good questions.

Funny you mention the idea of losing everything in a fire (who was that?). Just an hour ago, on my bus ride home tonite after Shabbat, I was reading The Oath, by Elie Wiesel. Of course, anything by Elie Wiesel has to do with memory in the face of utter destruction. From there, I started musing about throwing away everything, just dumping all the stuff, keeping nothing but a few bits of clothes to keep me covered. I know a Rabbi nearby, David Zeller (Craig: he's Beulah's son-in-law), who lived in India as a Saddhu an ascetic who puts himself into utter poverty and lives by the grace of God and his fellow man. The thought of getting rid of everything I own seemed so liberating, renewing. Then the stipulations popped into my head: the only thing I'll keep is pictures. Then I thought-- I'll keep the laptop. It's too expensive to trash, and has all kinds of photos and writings and things I should hang on to.

But why keep the pictures? If you are going for the total cleanse, you would get rid of everything, no? Everything except your memory of where mom lives..... But what about all the email addresses and phone numbers?

Everything.
Everything but what the heart-mind-soul recalls--- expertise, experience, where mom lives.

I still have all my film and negatives from film school. After graduation, I had this nutty idea that I would RECUT the Snaggletooth film I botched so much, and edit the shots of Josh Keiler wandering through Sydney, which I never used for nothing.

Esta! Burn my room!

As for Craig's comment--- seeing as how Israel was once invaded on Yom Kippur, when everyone is weak, starving and introverted, it isn't shocking that all this crap is going on during a time of fasting and mourning. But I don't think there's such a direct correlation,

On the other hand, the Israeli government was nice enough to orchestrate the expulsion of Jews from Gaza at exactly this time last summer, like rubbing salt in a wound (see last August's posts for more on that). And here they are, the Israeli Army back in Gaza. Sharon's last hurrah, Redux.....

A word of reassurance from your erstwhile brother-in-arms

IF Y'ALL AY-RABS THANK THAT YOU KIN KEEP WANDRIN' STOO DOWN, Y'ALL GOTS ANOTHER THANG COMIN' TA ALLS Y'ALL. YOU DONE TRY AN KNOCK ME DOWN, I'LL GIT RIGHT BACK UP N' KEEP ON KEEPIN' ON, LIKE STEVE MILLER DONE SAID, I'S DONE READY TO TAKE THE MONEY N' RUN, Y'ALL HEAR WUT I'M SAYIN? AN THAT GOES DOUBLE-WIDE FER ANY OF Y'ALL LEBBINEEZ WHO WANNA COME DOWN TO THE WILD WEST AND SEE WHO'S READY TO TANGLE.

Shabbat Shalom.
Rest Assured, I am fine.

Why is such a slow day called a Fast?

Today is the 17th of Tamuz, a half-day fast. Today is the day when Moses came down from the mountain, saw the orgiastic Golden Calf revelry, and smashed the two tablets. Today is the day when the Romans breached the wall of Jerusalem, and some say the Babylonians did so as well. Today begins the Three Weeks, a time of mourning leading up to Tisha b'Av (the 9th day of the month of Av- a full-day fast in full August heat), when the Temple in Jerusalem was destroyed, in both the Babylonian and Roman eras.

No partying, no gussying up, no carnivale, no rock n' roll. Heat of the summer. Feeling the tension as the 9th of Av looms closer and closer.

Anyway, Tamuz the girl, who knows these things, because she, like Tamuz the month, was named after the Assyrian diety (correct me if i'm wrong), mentioned in a recent comment that I should be breakin' down the walls.

So I was thinking-- that's the Tikkun (the Spiritual repair) of this fast day, and the Three Weeks. Today is the day to break down the walls, in that Pink Floyd way, that imprison us. Break down the walls that we have built for ourselves by living in a certain way, by clinging to useless beliefs, by holding grudges, obsessions, fetishes, habits, harmful desires. Inside of those walls is a Temple to Crap that we have built, by not forgiving others for past wrongs, by noth forgiving ourselves for being ourselves, by refusing to rewrite a life story that has become stale and ugly, by drinkin' smokin' cussin' screwing' fightin' watchin' TV too much, by harboring hatred or indifference or just stupid ideas on topics about which we really don't know shit.

I have been thinking a lot about nostalgia and over-sentimentalizing. I do both of those a lot. I find myself remembering moments, tiny little scenes from the past-- a scent on the wind, a small patch of dirt around a tree by the side of the road-- and suddenly am flung back into a yearning reverie for a time and a place which, while beautiful in its time, is not necessarily any better than the moment in which I am presently. I do this all the time. And with music, and photos, and just laying around 'membering. Building a Temple to the past, and sending my energy towards worship therein.

As I began typing the above paragraph, I overheard Donniel Karl and his brother learning on the other side of the room. The Netivot Shalom (commentary on the Torah) brings a story about the prophet Jeremiah, who is crying, and a man comes and asks him what the big deal is. It turns out that he is crying, not over the destruction of the past, but in hope of the glory of the future, of the greatness that can be built on the ruins of what has been torn down.

So break down the walls!!! Look yourself in the eye today (this requires a mirror) and choose SOMETHING upon which to wage war (like Lebanon, for example (ahem- i meant something inside or yourself)). Dedicate these three weeks to recognizing that, however wonderful you and your life might be, there is an even greater and fuller joy and wholeness that can be reached by improving on yourself. Can't find anything less than perfect? Ask your wife. Ask your kids. Ask your boss or employees. It's in there. Find that something, and work on it fiercely these three weeks. And when Tisha b'Av comes, just tear that Temple of Crap the hell down. Tear it down.

Only by obliterating the false temples in our hearts, the misguided perspectives, the harmful living patterns, only by waging war on that which holds us back, can we clear a space for the real Temple, the Mishkan- dwelling place of God's glory.

I ain't talking about the Dome of the Rock! I'm talking about a Temple inside, a little birdhouse in your soul.... we gotta tear out the garbage, and make a place in our hearts for holiness, compassion, righteousness, redemption, healing, joy.

You gotta do it.
And the Good Lord knows like crazy that I sure as heck do.

Let the destruction begin.

it's my damn party--

---and i'll complain if i want to.

Tonite is my Hebrew birthday, the 15th of Tamuz. I once dated a girl named Tamuz. She sing real good. But now I don't date Jack Shit. I sit in a trailer and listen to things exploding in Gaza and sleep a lot and wonder wonder wonder what the secret is.......

My roommate, David Ivan Fuchs (David Yisroel ben Ari) left for the United States and Canada this evening. We've been getting close. He's just a sprout (a wee 24), but we get along famously. Now it's just me and Squeakers in this big, lonely trailer.

You know that feeling you get, the night before a big cold comes on, that "it's the night before a big cold comes on" feeling?? Kinda icky, but not too bad? I've had that every night since Thursday. Thank God no real cold, right? On the other hand, blech.

I signed up for Jdate once again, after 2 highly successful rounds as a Jdater: 6 weeks in June/July 2004, and 3 weeks in January, 2005. Those two bouts led to several near-engagements, a couple of orgies, one epic poem in alternating haiku/sonnet form, a free meal at the Staten Island Court House and a broken pinky toe.

None of which is true.

What's really awesome (read: tragic, lame) is that all the Israeli girls who sign up for jdate don't bother writing anything about themselves. They all just click the box that lets you know they like Dim Sum, tell you how tall they are, then post a few pictures. Ugh.

I want mom and valerie to get on Jdate too, so they can share the joy and fall in love as well.

Whatever happened to organically meeting someone magical, like on television? Oh yeah- I did that a few times this year. People get hurt.

I think there's an Apache helicopter flying by outside my window.

I am gassy, and my nasal passages are achy, and I am not really in such a bad mood as you might think, but it's my Hebrew birthday, and I just want a little cuddle and maybe some noodle soup, fer chrissakes.

So if you know a hot, single, liberal-minded young sizzler of a gal who loves noodles, movies about transvestites and living in the Occupied Territories, send 'er here to wanderingstuDOTcom!!!
________________________

In other news, me and my roommate David Fuchs saw Cars last night. I don't care what some fancy reviewer has to say, that was a solid, feel-good flick. Go see it.

and since we're talking about movies about vehicles, i posted this entry, then got an email from valerie, who just saw this preview while seeing Pirates of the Caribbean. Here I am fighting to grow up, and Hollywood wants to keep me 11 forever. My birthday, no less!

good birthday vibes

• Three phone calls from America--
  
• Mom
• Craig
• Big Viv

• Two voicemails featuring the birthday song in Hebrew (Craig and Jeffrey)

• Four e-cards

• A mountain of mail--
• the long-awaited birthday card from Mom (Buzz Lightyear!)- thought it was lost for good, but it was just waiting for the very day
  
• two wedding notifications:
• Ben Small & Amy
• Sarah and Jason (a save-the-date with a medieval wax seal emblazoned with the ancient 'R' mark of the Rogers clan)
• a letter in Hebrew from Rabbi Gross of Temple Beth Orr, Coral Springs, Florida, confirming that I am, in fact, Jew-- needed document for the Aliyah process
• ample gifts from Jen Berkowitz, including awesome socks (!!!!!!!!!!!) and three lovely heart pins (my new emblem)
  

• Barbecue tonite at Rav Natan's house in my honor

Also, Brian Skellie got engaged!! It's like an explosion of love these days... In the past week, we've had three births here at the Yeshiva (four in the past 2 weeks)

Best e-card EVER

check out this awesome e-card noir, send by the excellent Stuchins clan of Natick, Mass., Marion and Burt. Thanks to all of you. More birthday thoughts later....