Erik yearns

So, friends, what DID I mean when I said "I'm the Nazz"? And should that question mark be inside the quotation marks?

Because I'm the Nazz

Shimstu is breaking out, friends. Check me out on this cool site. And stay tuned for an update on my new role in a 3-city tour of The Man of La Mancha! (I think i've been cast as the mule, but they haven't told us yet...)

Also, say a little prayer that I get the job for which I am interviewing on Tuesday. Amen.

Here's two pics of Lisa, who took the groundbreaking photo. She's the cutest! And clicky HERE for her site.



PS- if there is no picture of me at the top of this post, please let me know. For some reason, blogger killed my photo a day after i posted. I reset the photo, but still wonder if it will happen again

God Bless America

and a Happy Chanukah to all


(photo sent to me by Mrs. Jenny B. of Athens, GA.)

Chanukoran

We had a chanukah party today at ulpan. Across all the levels, there must be almost 200 students in the program. We all gathered in a little auditorium, where a guy in a Crocodile Dundee hat played a white baby grand piano, accompanied by shrill, cheezy Middle Eastern synthesizer rhythms. A few Arab guys were dancing in a goofy manner, trying to incite the rest of the crowd to join in. Two of the teachers and a small group of Americans were likewise dancing and inciting (or trying to incite). The rest of us sat and watched, maybe clapping. I was standing in the back, smiling at the odd spectacle of it all. Behind me, dozens of oily donuts waited patiently on the table.

The guy started playing the Chabad Mashiach song (a religious song combining Maimondes' 1000-year old proclamation of faith in the coming of the Messiah with the Chabadnik's tune celebrating the crazed notion that the Rebbe (may he rest in peace) IS the Messiah). I looked around at the crowd, 70% of which is young Arabs, and asked the Principal of the Ulpan if Muslims even have a Messiah concept. She understood my subtext. "They don't mind these songs," she said. "They just focus on the music."

I was somewhat skeptical. It must be weird for these Arab kids to be the majority in a program that focuses heavily on Israeli culture. After a few more songs, the principal got on the mic, and started explaining the story of Chanukah. I looked around at this room full of Palestinian youth, and realized that at the Purim party and the Passover party they also get to hear a revered legend of the Jews wiping out their enemy.

I leaned over to the guy next to me. "Having fun?"
"Absolutely."

Hamdul'lah.

Good Morning

I don't know that I felt jet-lagged over the past 2 days since I arrived back in Israel, but I spent most of that time in bed, awake or asleep. Tomorrow I begin ulpan (adult hebrew-language instruction, as they say), and so i need to get back on a normal schedule. i got into bed around midnight.

About 40 minutes ago I gave up on trying to fall asleep, flicked on the lights, the music and sat down here. It's now 3:40am. Alarm is slate for 7. Ach.

What else? What the hell else? People want posts. Updates. Their dose of this wanderingstu thing. And yet.

I went to a comedy show tonite at the Ambassador Hotel in East Jerusalem. It was called the Israeli-Palestinian Comedy Tour. The 2 Israelis were Americans, and one of the Palestinians was Egyptian. The other was American too. It was funny enough, but not hilarious. Yisrael Campbell, with whom I'm sort of buddies, was awesome. He's got some amazing bits.

I toy with the idea of trying to do some standup. Assembling material is rough. I wish I could just summon an audience at those moments once every few weeks when my spontanaeity and good humor are simultaneously awakened.

But I guess that defeats the purpose. I had a cute bit about being a settler and seeing that the airplane toilet was Occupied, but one of the guys used it tonite, and I started to wonder if I had even made it up in the first place.

I have another bit about terrorists throwing martinis instead of molotov cocktails, but I'm not sure if it's funny.

Tomorrow I begin the next phase of my life. Someone send me a friggin balloon.

Ironical

The previous post asks commenters to sign their comments. The last comment on the previous post is anonymous. And YOU-- YOU want me to post??? Well here it is. But golly, that ain't fair...

I am in Florida. I decided to come home to surprise my mom for her birthday and Thanksgiving. Valerie helped me with the conspiracy. I thought she was going to die when I walked in the door. Literally die. I was afraid. Here's the shot:

I thought it would be good for the whole family if I came. We needed to talk and spend some mellow time together. Plus I wanted to tell them face-to-face that I quit Yeshiva and moved to Jerusalem and don't know if, when or how I might become a Rabbi after all....

Yeah.

Here's a shot from 1997 or so. It was taken on film, and I just found it and shot a digital picture of the printed photo. That's how it feels when I'm in Florida. Sort of.

here's your new post

thanks for the attention, anonymous commenter.
if i had one guess, i would guess that you were not my mother.

as i've always requested, please sign your comments, so i know from whence cometh the love. that way, i can post just for you, with a personalized touch of wanderingstu magic. if i don't know who you are, i tend to stop caring.

plus, in my needy state, i would like a face to associate with the expression of appreciation.

and send bacon salt. please. my grapefruit is getting boring

Get yo' ass into My neighborhood

I've never posted video before, but this stuff is too good. First of all, watch Uncle Fred breakdance:



Now. It's a sad sad statement about our mentality in this day and age, after stumbling our way through the confusing Eighties and the confused Nineties, that you can't watch Mr. Rogers without thinking that he's maybe a little perverse. Creepy. You don't want him to touch that poor little boy. It's a total klipah (as we say here in Israel)- an unhealthy and distorted way of looking at the world. Any time an adult male gives gentle attention to children, our pedophile alarm goes off.

Mr. Rogers was perhaps the only guy who ever just damn CARED. Watch this:



He's sweet, humble, gentle, encouraging, trusting. Did I mention humble? He thanks US over and over again for all the things that HE gave us. And more than that, he's a national hero. Watch this hard-ass Senator absolutely melt:



Taking a look at Mr. Rogers again is a great opportunity for us to explore just how much the past 30 years have hosted the perversion and exploitation of every realm of human existence, and just how jaded we've become because of it.

Sigh.

Then again, some bored academics have something else to say about livin' in the 'Hood (go back and click "bored academics"). They say that Mr. Rogers made us all narcissistic wimps.

And, of course, there is evidence that Mr. Rogers was in league with one of the Masters of Evil:

I'm for real now

My writing on the Torah portion "Noah" (i.e. my drash on parshas Noach) appears on the environmental website Canfei Nesharim. I was the ghost writer of the previous piece as well, which is by the Chief Rabbi of the UK. I wrote several of the pieces for this series, which will come out weekly over the next year, and I edited several others.

There you have it.

Don't call the Paramedics yet

My mood is slightly improved. I think it all sucks, but my mood is slightly improved. I made some nice beans today, and am about to watch the 4th Harry Potter movie (and finish the 5th book).

AND- I found God, fell in love and lost 20 pounds.

ha.

Three stages of Yom Kippur

1) Last night I went to davvening ("services"), prayed heartily, and stayed over an hour afterwards to chat with a friend and learn some stuff about the Yom Kippur ritual in the Temple back in the olden days.

2) This morning I was in the Beit Midrash at 6:30am for the beginning of davvening, and did all the introductory stuff. Somewhere early in the official service, I began to get frustrated, feel distanced from all the hundreds of pages of words laid out before me. This feeling was exacerbated by some comment I read in the prayer book about righteous people knowing they have the truth, some overbearing notion that being aligned with God's Will brings with it an acceptable cockiness towards those who don't (heaven forfend).

I began pacing in and out of the room, spending time in a little side room that is being used as a storage closet a few families, and reading a book called Seeing God, hoping to rediscover an understanding of Deity that isn't focused on sneering at other people, obeying commands or obsequiously praising without end. I also read a bit in Kosher Sex.

I made sure to take care of all my gabbai duties, like assigning people to open the ark at specific moments, and running the Torah service section, calling people up for honors and giving them blessings. That's the core of my job, and because I have that role, I had to be in the vicinity of the prayers, although I felt more and more distant from them as the hours rolled by.

3) At around 1:30, having dispensed of all my clerical obligations, I abandoned the davvening for good. I had been there for 7 hours, and was not getting anywhere. I spent the rest of the time (the past 5 hours) in my bed, alternatively reading Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix and sleeping. It has now passed the 12-hour mark, and they are just getting to the end of the day's prayers down there. Not bad, considering the place has a record of sometimes going on until after 9pm

_____________

This was definitely one of the lamest Yom Kippur experiences I've had. This used to be one of my favorite days of the year, even way back, before I had any real connection with Judaism. In 1996, quite memorably, Craig and I fasted while camping in the Badlands on Yom Kippur.

Today, I hardly felt connected with any of the elements of the day- repentance, purification, holiness, unity of the People, or spiritual/emotional realignment. I have been cultivating mundane fantasies of being a substitute teacher in Broward County. I have three weeks of wide-open vacation in front of me, and no idea what I should do.

Happy New Year.

Someone tell Lady Luck that I'm stuck here-

I've been avoiding returning to the Beit Midrash (the Study Hall) to resume my learning. There is only tomorrow left before Yom Kippur, and a three week break. At this moment, I am in the midst of another notorious fit of indolence, confusion and apathy, and have no desire to go learn Torah.

But it's not really apathy. I still care about the stuff I cared about when I was 12. When I went to eat lunch, my friend David started singing "Somewhere That's Green" from Little Shop of Horrors. I promptly and enthusiastically joined in. I came back to my room and started looking for Horror clips on YouTube. After watching a few, out of order, and went back and watched the clip of "Skid Row." The ghetto striving and the deep, deep emotion of the voices, especially the black singers, brought me to tears.

You tell me what that means..

I'm back, and yet...

I got back from Uman, Ukraine this morning about 11 hours ago, after 17 hours of driving, 14 hours of training, 12 hours of Budapesting and 5 hours of planing. I've been in bed ever since. But not sleeping as much as I would like.

If you want to kinda see what the scene is at the grave of Rebbe Nachman, here's a few YouTube videos from previous years. I don't know that any of them really capture the energy. Of course 2 days of Rosh Hashanah and Shabbat don't get filmed. I am surprised that this year's footage hasn't made it online yet. Give it a few days..

• check out the chubby kid dancing in the middle of this one
• a longer video, with Hebrew narration
• here's hundreds of people praying near the gravesite before Rosh Hashanah
• some dancing in the streets after the holiday

eventually i will get some photos of our trip from Rav Natan's sons.

After 10 days in Eastern Europe, I am, once again, all confused about, well, everything. I dunno what the heck is going on, or what I should be doing or where to go to investigate the millions of questions that spin through my mind all the time. I feel shattered. I spent about 3 hours in the Turkish baths in Budapest, the same place I went with Craig in '95. I just lay there, soaking in the water, feeling totally free, feeling that... that thing that comes up when I travel, that kernel of life that I can just about grasp. And then-

Yom Kippur is in three days. We'll see how that irons things out a bit...

Stu got the Look

Before and After


Why?
I was pulling out every damn hair obsessively, staring at it, admiring the texture, analyzing the split ends. Once I got started, usually towards the late afternoon, I couldn't stop. I had to shave it. I couldn't bear the added stress of such an annoying fetish.

And of course, here's my South Park character from Facebook:

Moving towards some sort of truth telling

I've been wanting to make this space a confessional for so so so so so long... but, like I said, the timing just ain't right.

I dunno.
Here's a few facts:

- I am going to the Ukraine for Rosh Hashana, to the grave of Rebbe Nachman of Breslov. Me and 25,000 other dudes

- When I arrived in Israel 2 weeks ago, I began eating vegetarian again. It's the first time since my brief revolt against all forms of human violence that began September 11, 2001, and lasted about a month.

- I eat too much. Vegetarian or not.

- I feel lonely as hell. A lot.

- I am surrounded by good folks, who are my friends, and I have a mentor who believes in me, no matter how bitchy and lame and despairing I get.

- The Hebrew word for vegetarian is tzimchoni which, literally, is more like "plantetarian."

- I have some bad habits that I am trying to break.

- I haven't gotten any damn mail from anyone.

- I am damn cute.





[i had posted a few pictures up here, but they seem to have vanished]

Lick it and put it in the Blue Box

I want mail.
I don't wanna skype or do email (not that i get much email).
Send a letter-

Shimshon St:u Siegel
Yeshivat Bat Ayin
Gush Ezion 90913
Israel

I'll write back.

when it should it doesn't and when it could it's not

There have been DOZENS of times in the past few weeks when I wrote huge, sprawling, moping, bitching, ranting blog posts in my head, unleashing the complex of frustration, confusion, anger, loneliness, shortness-of-breath, lust, despair and physical discomfort I've been experiencing so much in the weeks since my job at Brandeis wrapped up.

But whenever I have a moment to actually blog this stuff, it just isn't there.

Right now, mellow. Slight ache in the lower neck. A little shortness-of-breath. It was an amazing sunset. I have to go babysit and type environmental Torahs.

Maybe next time.

Not sleeping in a box

I've been back in Israel for about 12 hours.
I put myself to bed just after 11pm, tired, weary, drawn-out, a little edgy, lonely, beat-up by the events of today's journey, which involved losing an expensive bottle of liquor, standing on the side of the road for over an hour, breaking into my room with a dirty pick-ax and feeding my emaciated friend Squeakers the Cat two bowls of Friskies.

I really thought I was gonna sleep for a long, long time.

A friend used my room for storage, and so my stuff is all buried under his. I didn't find a proper setting for the bed, and just used the ratty sheet I found on it, and some pillowcases from the community linen closet. For whatever reason, I didn't grab a sheet with which to cover myself, so at 1:10am I woke up, chilly and mosquito-bitten.

In a story in the book I've been reading, swarms of mosquitoes in Alaska actually cover people's limbs. In my trailer in the Judean Hills, one little bastard has his way with me until I leap up and smash him (or her). It's a nightly hunt I had forgotten about.

I am freaked out being here right now. I don't exactly feel like I am at home. My little room, in which I had been very comfortable last year, feels like a box, a closet, a tomb. The exposed lightbulb glares. I am a little freaked out.

It seems to take a week

I think about posting every day, every night. I challenge myself with ideas of newer, more revealing content. I imagine myself opening up and sharing all of my thoughts, experiences, struggles, my questions, hypocrisies & doubts. I imagine it to be cathartic, shattering, catalyzing.

Then I go to sleep instead.

My plane leaves in about 19 hours. It's coming to a close, this patchwork adventure in American living. This has been my longest period in the States in 2 years, more than double any prior trip. It's been good. It's been hard. It's been rewarding. It's been reaffirming, both towards the Darkness, and the Light. It's been fattening. It's been naughty. But not as naughty as we might have liked.

I am right now at Sarah and Jason's in Brooklyn. Tomorrow we are going to a premier Brooklyn brunch spot, near the Museum. Then I go to Soho to pick up my bags. I might take the Subway to the airport, spend $8 rather than $48. I dragged my stuff here from Boston, so I reckon I can wrangle it, especially if I get a little help on the first descent in Soho.

I don't feel ready to go back. I can muster, when I pause to do so, a yearning for the streets of Jerusalem, and certain bearded faces, and certain unbearded faces. But I don't feel ready to return to the religious life, to a context of pray-ers and believers and self-abnegation.

I don't know what I feel ready for.
But I guess no one's asking how I feel. Tomorrow is coming.

Left you hanging

Hi. I am in Rhode Island with Mom and Valerie, visiting cousin Doug and his wife, baby girl, dog Merlin (a Hungarian Kuvasz) and Tonto, the Sun Conyer, a clever bird who, when held over the garbage can and told, "Dookie, Tonto," actually does defecate. I lived with Tonto for a few months in Santa Clara, California, back in 1996. She's mellowed since then, and doesn't squawk all night long. (that isn't a real Tonto photo up there. just a pic of another Sun Conyer.)

In one week, I return to Israel. I am excited, but also feel some trepidation. I was exposed to / reminded of many aspects of life this summer from which I feel very distant when I am in Bat Ayin. As I always say at these moments of mini-transition, I need to establish myself a physically-spiritually-emotionally healthy routine that will provide me with a stable base while giving me opportunities to expand beyond the stultifying lethargy and indolence that the Dark Forces seem hellbent to instill as my primary mode of being.

Beyond that, I just gotta lighten up and love life. Ahem.

And find me a Ms. Shimshi-Wu.

A wise friend told me-

Just keep on trying, just keep on doing what you're doing, and things will work out for you. Amazing things will happen, you're going to be happy, just keep trying just never give up. I know it will, Stuart, I know you're gonna be happy.

She had asked me how things were, how's my mom, how's my sister. "Same old," I said. Didn't know what else to answer. Then she gave me a loving, inspiring speech, filled with hope for my life. I listened, and felt a bit out of it, and wanted to-

________
I started writing this late last night, but it appears that i must have fallen asleep without posting it. Weird. I don't even remember how the sentence was supposed to end. But the point was that her reassurances actually had the opposite effect, and left me feeling empty and not inspired. And then I felt guilty for not being able to just absorb her love and incorporate it into my own being.

yep.

One of several habits that promote spiritual health

Hey, look! I found the website for my first true love. She's got a PhD, and a husband with a PhD. I don't have the gumption to post the picture. But you can click. She pretty much looks the same as she did when she was 16. But I bet she doesn't still feel like a confused teenager, unlike some of us.

What did you do tonite?

Anonymous Commenters Get No Croutons.

Come on, kids, sign yer comments- it helps this sensitive blogger feel the love.

The "Marakia." Marak means Soup. That's why I wrote (souperia). Marakia is the name of a cute little soup place in Jerusalem. They have a nice patio out back, and a piano in the tiny dining room. They serve nothing byt soup. And bread and drinks. One night I saw Bukowski playing piano there.

(the staff dances at the "Camp Dance")




At this very moment, the teens at my summer program are dancing in the Schwartz auditorium. Some of them aren't wearing too too much, but that's how they dress every day. I mean, I know that I made out with a girl and even slept in her room after the camp dance when I was 16, but... I don't think that back then we had so many songs about backing up your your ass or being a ho or, well, screwing.

Here's me, sitting on the side, taking pictures of myself with my laptop:



I'm making eyes at the laptop, not at the teenage humpfest spread out before me. What's amazing about pluralistic Jewish Community-Building (that's what I do here) is that the tall, snobby, pretty girl secular with a bad attitude ran over and grabbed the pasty, nerdy, twitchy orthodox kid the minute he ran into the room. The same kid who fearfully asked me a few hours ago if there would be mixed dancing......

Here's me an coworker Dan Held, two chubby bearded guys sitting like aged dorks with our matching MacBooks whilst the yunguns shake it.

Ooh! They're playing Sir Mix-A-Lot!

Oh yeah, one more note from the H for Humanity

They comes back to haunt you with love

Phew. This job is intense. IN-TENSE. Like camping. Like the Bedouins. Not as physically exhausting as being an outdoor Camp Counselor, but more deeply, insidiously mind-tweaking.

One of my co-workers was also in Israel last year. When we met 2 weeks ago, we chatted a bit about Jerusalem, and the Marakia (the Souperia), an excellent noshing spot in the city. She is also an HUC DropOut (also transferred to a different Rabbinical program). This bit of chat led to this led to that, and after figuring out that we knew some folks in common, I got a hunch that we had, in fact, been at the Marakia on the same night last summer. Finally, we checked her blog, lucyvincentbeach.blogspot.com (this damn software won't help me put in the real link), and look who's there!!!!!!


Sarah is the one crouching in the middle.

Meanwhile, I just tonite received an email from one of my first Hebrew School students from Coral Springs in 1997, when this whole maddening adventure began (WanderingStu celebrates 10 years of Holy Hysteria). He is back at Camp Coleman in Cleveland, Georgia, where me and Val worked the summer before I left for Israel the first time (the first time in my adult life, that is)-- when i first ended up in Bat Ayin. Here's the scrawl that marked the end of the beginning. Or vice versa.



The gentleman up top is, of course, Klaus Kinski in the role of Aguirre, the Wrath of God. I think he kinda looks like Ariel Elisha. Monkey not included.

Or even better...

I'm at camp!!!!!!!! Send care packages!!!! Keep the tradition alive!!

Stuart Siegel (or Shimshon)
BIMA and Genesis at Brandeis University
415 South South Street
MS 037
Waltham, MA 02454

Just keep all snacks kosher, please, and don't send anything that won't arrive by July 31.

781)529-8437

I am not really in the room before 9pm (busy days!!), but I will try to call people back, or email or at least send good vibes...

They're working us hard here at BIMA/Genesis @ Brandeis University. It promises to be an intense and rewarding summer. I've been here since yesterday morning. The kids arrive next Monday, and we are in full-on preparation mode.

I'm not here, I'm not queer, but maybe you should just get used to them

Gay Pride Wars 5767, Round 2
(5767= 2006-7)

I'm not around this time to smell the burning garbage, but I bet it's fun anyway. For last November's adventures, just Google these three fun terms- dumpster pride Jew- or click the link right there, you lazy.

I'm supposed to be working right now (writing environmental Torahs), but i wanted to toss this fun image at y'all before your day ends in a spiral of ennui and meaninglessness. I didn't design it, but I suggested the caption, which means, "in the image of God," 'cuz that's how ALL HUMANS are made.

BUY IT NOW AS A T-SHIRT!!!
Support the Anti-Dumpster Burners.

What I was thinking about the Sabbath

In a "secular" life, Friday comes around, and the excitement builds. As sundown approaches, all rules are gone, all structures come apart, time spreads out limitlessly, making no demands, dangling the promise of raucous adventures and indulgence. The goal is dissipation, letting go, forgetting the struggles of life. The whole world becomes a playground.

If you're into Shabbes, the sinking of the Friday sun imposes an inescapable structure on Time. suddenly existence has a framework far more complex than that of the week. The day demands even more focus- focus on God, focus on prayer, focus on what can and can't be done. Friday night is a time of spiritual electricity, the whole world is transformed into a palace of God.

Yes, the command is to eat amply, and to enjoy and to forget the struggles of the week, but in a way (or at least in the wanderingstu way), you are more aware of Life's challenges. Maybe the workaday is stressful, but sometimes having to face God, armed with nothing but a third helping of cholent can be rather daunting. Or at least intense. (Cholent- a meaty Shabbat stew made in a crock pot. If anyone calls me "Meaty Shabbat Stu," I will frown in their general direction.)

I didn't mean this to be a complaint about Shabbat (does it sound that way?). Not at all. I just wanted to riff on the difference between the significance of Friday evening in the different frameworks of living. Kinda like a secular bachelor party involves hookers, blow and a lot of cussing, while a frum Shabbat Chatan (the religious version of the bachelor party) involves bearded guys, cheap vodka and a lot of blessings.

Shabbat Shalom

Come Friday Sundown

First of all, why are Shabbat times so late in DC? Candle lighting is 7 minutes later here than in New York, and 12 minutes later than in Boston. I thought the further north, the longer the summer days. My assumption is that the drift east as you go up the coast affects your location within the time zone. The closer to the eastern edge of the time zone, the earlier Shabbat comes in.

Yep, just did a little check, with the help of hebcal.com and mapquest. Bedford, IN, 650 miles due west of Washington DC, takes in Shabbat 38 minutes LATER than DC. They must be at the edge of the time zone.

Well, no. I just checked Washington, IN, 47 miles west of Bedford, and Shabbat there is exactly an hour earlier than Bedford, affected by nothing but the time zone change. Which makes sense, I now realize (chagrined, perhaps by my ill-considered theory above). It's not like the sun is going to set earlier in Washington, IN, than in Bedford, which is east...

Now that last paragraph makes no sense. I was being stupid, and assuming that I been stupid, but I wasn't being stupid, so IGNORE that last paragraph. I was going to erase it, but then thought that an open-source experience of my mind might be entertaining, and generate a few extra comments.

SO---> The whole Washington, Indiana thing is the POINT! Here's a chart, from East to West...

XXX You know what, I've realized that this is all more complex than I need it to be right now, but soon, barring massive reader protest (which means 2 comments), I will some day take you on a virtual journey, from Washington, DC to Leoti, Kansas, from Atlanta to Cincinnati through Bluegrass Country, and we will virtually kindle the Shabbes lights at each stop along the way. It will be virtually entertaining.

And now for the next post-

DC Casual

I'm sitting here in a cafe/grocery store, a refreshingly bright and pleasant space in this kinda run-down neighborhood. It's called, fittingly, Windows Cafe, and it has free wi-fi, for Windows or OS X. The place is run by Ethiopians, and they only charge $1.50 for a big ol' muffin.

A young gent, tall and skinny in a Snoop Dogg sorta way, just walked in and shouted, "y'all got some lettuce?" The girl behind the counter noticed he was limping and asked what happened. With the same verve with which he asked for lettuce, he smiled and said, "I got shot!"

what are you doing

It is Tuesday morning in Washington, DC. Yesterday I went to a temp agency and took some aptitude tests. I missed 2 questions on the Microsoft Excel test, otherwise, I got them all right. I test well. Huh. They used to think that would get me somewhere.

I am in DC for a few weeks with Patrick, hopefully doing a little temping to fill the pockets, and working on a few pieces for my yeshiva-mate Jonathan Neril's Environmental Parsha Initiative. I did a nice solid hour of writing while Patrick and his law firm pals played softball on the Mall, between the Reflecting Pool and the Korean War Memorial. An hour of solid work! More than I've done in years.

--- right now i am in Patrick's new apartment, waiting for the various people to come and set up the various things-- gas, satellite TV, AC... The AC repair people just arrived. I heard someone yank on the locked front door, then the doorbell rang twice, urgently. Opening the door, I find two middle-aged chinese men in snazzy short-sleeved button down shirts. One of them is wearing a pork-pie hat, and has a long, kung-fu beard growing from the middle of his chin. They look more like a jazz-duo than the air conditioning team. The hatless guy mumbles a few words to me about the AC, then cruises in, followed by his associate, who nods once at me and says a word under his breath. The first gent has some sort of gauge and rubber tubing apparatus in his hand. He pauses by the thermostat, says, "Seventy-five; gone down," to his partner, then they're gone out the back door.

I was going to blog here about lonliness and stifling of harmful appetites and facing the extreme opulence of the DC lawyer world and blogs where girls talk about their sex lives and dreams and love and art and thought and achievement and situps and squats and indolence,

but those Chinese guys distracted me, and now i'm going to move towards doing what I should be starting to do before I do what I came here to do anyhow.

That's it

Everything is packed- the bag is packed, and the caravan (trailer home) is all cleaned up and all my stuff put in the closet or the back bedroom so the rest of the space can be used for guests over the summer.

Squeakers is officially on the streets, the sheets and towels are all washed and folded. One plant, recently infested by ants, has been dumped on the front yard, on top of the cigarette butts, dog-eaten diapers and David Fuchs' old pants (right next to a discarded toilet brush-- this is trailer living, folks).

It's good-- I look forward to this summer: quality time with Patrick, doing some professional Torah writing, hanging out in New England with family and, of course, teaching again for the first time in 2 years. Wow!

I went to the ma'ayan (ritual bath fed by a natural spring) and purified my this and that so I can fly to America straight and on task.

Right now, I am naked as the day I was born (plus 2 earrings and more hair in most places), about to take my final shower here in Bat Ayin before heading down for 2 more hours of study. After that, beer and Spiderman in Jerusalem, and then the cab to the airport picks me up a little before 2am outside the "Paht Junction Skewer House."

Chicken hearts, anyone?

The Unshakeable Truth of God's Glory

This is part of an email I wrote to someone about my relationship to all this religious stuff. I think there are some insights here that y'all would want to see. I have always intended to open some of my thoughts and wrestlings here on the 'stu, but have been lazy, and never sat to do so. I haven't proofread it to see if it's blogworthy. Chances are, I might read it over in a week or a month and find some glaring fallacies.

Or not.
______________

NOTHING I do religiously is to appease the anger of a jealous and vengeful Deity. I don't know if there is such a Deity out there. It seems silly to me. (though i leave room for the fact that i might be wrong).

i struggle constantly with God. usually i relate to God as the Universe, the Unity of all that exists- all physical matter and all that which is beyond the physical, that i cannot perceive very well nor conceive. I personally- I, Stuart Bennett Siegel- do not relate to a threatening God, and demanding God, a punishing God. Even the idea of a commanding God- which is perhaps the central tenet of Judaism- is tricky for me. yes, there is tons of that imagery in the Bible. But it is clearly impossible that THAT is the "personality" of God. If God is the Unity of All, how could It be angry or jealous?? The descriptions of God as such must be allegory, or humans' limited perspective of the Universe, but not the reality of God. Many of the Jewish philosophers have dealt with this issue.

When I pray or do rituals, it is part of an large-scale project to align my soul, my being with the universe, with a higher modality than the base, physical world of pleasures and pain which has shown itself (to folks like me and you and many we know) to be so fruitless and alienating. Even before I got into Judaism, maybe from LSD-i dunno, I believed that the Universe was a unified whole, and that our minds had power to transcend that which we see before us and enter into a more fluid intercourse with that Unity of which we are a part.

trippy shit, and it turns out that that is at the core of Judaism.

i don't believe much in Truth. I DO believe that the Rabbis (your Pharisees) had, many of them, insights into mystical secrets of the universe which pervade all of there teachings, even if imperceptibly. By connecting to their Tradition, there is a chance that i will also be able to "Feel the Force" as Han Solo might put it.

To claim that the Rabbinic tradition is just a clever way to control people, subjugate women and be racist by instilling the fear of God is to make an uneducated and immature generalization about a tradition that is far too complex to have such a simplisitc (and paranoid) purpose.

when I make a blessing, i am not trying to assuage the bubbling wrath of an insecure God. i am participating in a Tradition that has been with my people for thousands of years, and i am trying through the power of ritual and tradition (and maybe a little mystical incantation), to connect more deeply to the Universe. Does it happen at that moment, every time? No. But it is another piece, which is hopefully building something within my being.

i don't know much about the Christian faiths, but i tend to see them as demanding one principle of belief that is an all-or-nothing bright line. No Jesus, no religion.

Judaism is nothing like that. There are elements of belief, there are ritual practices, there are mystical pathways to Divinity, there are disciplines of self-betterment, there is the history of the people, there is the bloodline, there's the corned beef.... people connect to their Jewishness in various ways-- some folks are religious anti-Zionists. some are secular Zionists. Some love to study Jewish Law and hate the mushy stuff, some ignore the Law and love to hug and bless each other.

you have to stop thinking of it as monolithic. Judaism is the opposite of monolothic religion.

if i didn't see that my connection to Halakha (the laws of Judaism) and Torah would allow me to continue to be as iconoclastic, skeptical and sensual as i pride myself on being, i wouldn't be here.

One more

Shabbat Shalom, everyone, my last one in Israel for a while.

Delicate Stu and the Pain of Anonymous Comments

Aw man-- that last anonymous comment: is someone just suggesting that amazing things can happen in Israel and I mayas well maximize my time here because, who knows?

OR is the comment an allusion to a specific "something really great"???

Gettin' Grown

Decisions, decisions...

Trying to figure out if I should spend 2 1/2 weeks with Patrick in DC, temping, unwinding a bit before my big summer job at Brandeis, reconnecting to an old friend... OR, should I try to change my flight, stay in Israel longer, go to Eliezer and Sararose's wedding, work the soil of Eretz Yisrael, study more Torah, and be here, which is my home, if not forever, at least for now.

I mean, I already have the ticket to fly on June 1, so inertia has me going to DC for the 2 1/2 weeks in question.

This decision isn't as big a deal as I might make it sound. It will happen. Something will happen.

*********

Tomorrow night is Shavuot, the festival that is linked to the Giving of the Torah on Mount Sinai. In Sefer Shemot (the Book of Exodus), God tells the Israelites to prepare themselves for 3 days before the epic event. They are to stay pure, clean and chaste. In practice, we don't make such a big deal about these 3 days before our commemoration of Sinai, but we note them nonetheless, if only marginally.

I don't feel prepared. I haven't been focused on being a vessel for Divine Emanation. I lashed out in anger at a friend today. I made inappropriate insinuations to someone. I cussed. I ate too much at lunch. So then, how serious am I regarding the real potential of a Holy Day to bring into the world and into my soul the realities which the day symbolizes? If we say that tomorrow night commemorates the day that God's Will was revealed to the world, shouldn't I be fully open and focused and prepared to be a worthy recipient of such a revelation? Is it enough to just eat some cheesecake, stay up all night and pay lip-service to the day? If yes, then Shavuot is in danger of becoming yet another meaningless occasion to eat and be festive, like the American Memorial Day or Labor Day. If no, then perhaps I (we) ought to be doing a hell of a lot more to prepare.

{Anyway, I'm rambling perhaps. I want to speak more on this blog, but don't seem to get my tush on task. Take a look at the original posts, from July and August 2005. Who was that Wanderingstu? I'd like to meet him.}

At a picnic in Jerusalem last Shabbat, this chap Mendel, a real character, who, as far as I understand, owns a chicken farm in Thailand and has done time somewhere or other, harassed my pal The Frez and told him that he wasn't giving 100% to his life. At our little luncheon, at least 3 out of 8 picnickers had been on the streets hungry at some point in their lives, feeling, as one guy put it, the acid burning their empty stomachs.

Mendel told Frez that life was crap unless you give it 100%.

Are you giving it 100%
Are you giving it 70%
Am I??

If not, can we really expect that God, the Universe, the Force (as you like it) will give 100% back to us?

Lost Wallet, redux

Found it. More on that later

Lost Wallet, part 1

People are funny- Thus far, I have told three people that I think I lost my wallet. All of them immediately took on the role of detective, and tried to help me "retrace my steps" to locate the lost item. I posted a note here at the yeshiva just in case some comes across it. My fear is that I will spend tomorrow "retracing" with 25 different detectives.

Just as silly is the fact that I posted a LOST WALLET note at the Yeshiva. The damn thing is filled with pictures of me and cards with my name on it. If someone here found it, I reckon they would know to whom it belonged.

When I was at the Option Institute, I decided that I was going to live my life WHOLEHEARTEDLY from that day forth. If that were true, utterly true, this post would be far more engaging, particularly that first paragraph.

Did you know that I have to GO BACK TO FLORIDA to replace my (possibly) lost Drivers' License? Uh....

Did you know that Israeli teenagers spend like $1000 taking over 20 mandatory driving lessons before they can be licensed? Unreal. As the holder of an American drivers' license, I only have to take 2 lessons----

oh crap!!! What if they need to SEE the license to give me the exemption?

It's 700 miles from DC, where I will be in 3 weeks, to Northern Florida-- what are the chances??

The Heavens Speak; The Land Rejoices

Beach day?

It is more than a month since Israel's rainy season ended, and it is pouring. After some awesomely hot days earlier this week, today opened with a gentle breeze and a cloud-covered sky. We had had a few drops of rain on Monday or Tuesday, and today teased a bit, then gave way with a consistent afternoon drizzle, a light drizzle that brought out that delicious moist earth smell. Now, nearing 1:00 AM, the downpour begins, with a flash of lightning and a generous crack. Nothing like the insane, whipping winds and crashing thunder of the Bat Ayin winter storms, but a real rain nonetheless.

I have plans to hit the beach in Ashkelon tomorrow afternoon, before Shabbat at the immigrant absorption center with a horde of eager Ethiopian kids. They call me "Shemesh," which means "sun," and is derived, sort of, from my Hebrew name (which most people in Israel use to address me), "Shimshon," which means "Samson," and in Hebrew via David Bowie clearly means "The Sun Machine."

On the merit of my Hebrew name and my good times with the Ethiopian kids, may we have a little sunshine over the beach tomorrow afternoon...

The Moon is Full

Last time I posted, it was before Pesach (Passover). Now it's a month later. The moon looks to be pretty full tonite. When I walked up to take some garbage to the dumpster, it it hit me in the eye from behind the hill. I got emotional, I felt lonely, I wanted to cry. It was just me and my garbage and I felt like I no longer knew how to love the moon, or how to share it with friends.

It's been a month since I dreamed about George Bush. Good things have happened, and good things have not happened. Learning has been good and invigorating, and learning has been painful and frustrating. I have not prayed much. I spent two weeks dealing with various infections. I explored the pathways of love and relationship. I doubted, dreaded, lamented, complained, opted out, hid, slept, indulged, regretted, wondered, raged, degraded. Among other things, like singing and smiling and laughing. Always laughing. Even in the lowest place, I can laugh. I didn't cry. I don't think I cried.

I always wonder about this blog- what IS it? A chronicle of interesting events? A journal of contemplations? A confessional of horrors and despairs? Because when I feel low, I worry that it is not right to post it to the world. What if some possible employer or future student were to see the {gasp} truth of how I operated in this world? And when I'm rolling on a good wave, I never want to bother to sit here and let it all out....

Have I fallen out of love with this blog?

Have I fallen out of love with you? Heaven forfend.

So some of you have written, asking for more. One of you even called today, theorizing that I held back from posting to force folks to reach out by phone. Some of you don't give a rat's ass. Good for you.

In any event, and girded against all eventualities, here is a post for you. I am leaving Israel for the summer in one month. Until then, trying to learn a thing or two. Maybe just a thing.

My Boy

Last night I dreamed that me and my friend Lazer were hanging out with George W. Bush. We were in some sort of fancy room drinking something; I can't remember if it was tea of cocktails or what, but at the end of the scene I had some sort of banana juice that I accidentally poured into a glass of tea.

George was pretty cool, man. He was chilling out on the couch, cracking jokes, and just being mellow. We made a few jokes about the fact that everything we were saying was being recorded and that he had the ability to throw us in jail if we got out of line, but it was all in good fun. We had a nice time.

Afterwards, people kept abandoning me when we were supposed to get on a bus together. I was freaking out. My cousin Stephen Siegel showed up with an old skateboard, and I tried to teach myself a few tricks.

But the main point is that me and Lazer had a good time with the president.

I've been chewing on this...

I've been wondering about this for a while, and have some thoughts, but it's such an interesting question (to me, at least) that I thought I'd send it out to whoever is out there before cataloguing my own thoughts on the matter:

Why am I always thinking about / talking about / yearning for treyf (non-kosher food, especially pork, shrimp and oysters)??

Answer honestly, openly and creatively, just be nice, alright? Wanderingstu is feeling a bit tender lately.

You want a damn post?

At least one of you asked for a post. That was sweet.

Last week was warm and sunny. On Purim, about 10 days ago, we had a barbecue on the "quad," music, dancing, good time springtime fun.

Two nights ago it hailed. Small hail. Yesterday morning was snowy and slushy. Then the snow stopped. Then it came again. Then a frenzied downpour of tiny hail, the size of little styrofoam balls, or Dippin' Dots ice cream. Then rain. In spite of all of this, Jonathan, one of the guys from the Yeshiva, and Shana, one of the girls from the girls' school down the hill in Bat Ayin, got married. Roads were cleared, parents shuttled out to the hills, and the ceremony was on.

Suddenly, us boys from the Yeshiva and them girls from the Midrasha (girl's school) are gittin' all friendly. My friend Lazer just got engaged to Sarah Rose (I set them up!! Mazal Tov). Another fellow here just went on an epic 7-hour lunch date with one of the girls from down there, and as for me... well, as for me. Those who know, know.

As for me in other realms--- blech. There is much to say, but one never knows which is the forum in which to say it. For now, I'll just say that I ain't feeling so religious, and that is troubling when my entire life is currently built around religion.

Anyhow, more on that later. Perhaps.

I gotta run.
Shabbat Shalom

After Purim

Well, here's one more Purim shot. My awesome redneck character had ripped shorts, cigarete burns in his t-shirt, and wore longjohns with flip-flops. I shook everyone's hand and said, "I'm Randy- But that ain't my name!!!" Good times.


The truth is, I did not have a shattering, paradigm-shifting Purim, as it's usually described in the brochure. I wandered town, ate meatballs, got wasted, gave some gifts to Rav Natan's wife and daughter*, jumped on a bus from the top of Bat Ayin to the middle, yelled at teenagers to be proud of their native-born Bat Ayin heritage, then stumbled back to the Yeshiva with Noam. Sometime after I induced vomiting and went to sleep around 7pm.

*The gifts, little plastic IKEA boxes with soy pudding and candy, are part of the Mitzvah called Mishloach Manot, which is found in the Book of Esther, and means literally, "Sending Portions," or sending gifts to friends. This morning I woke up, paranoid that I had forgotten to give my gifts during Purim, and had thereby missed one of the most important elements of the holiday. I seemed to have remembered leaving my bag of stuff at Rav Natan's house, because I had intended to give one Mishloach Manot to his son, Aryeh Nachman. I went over there and asked Ruti, Rav Natan's wife, if I had left a black plastic bag there. She said that nothing had been found. I looked across the table and saw one of my litle IKEA boxes. "There it is!!" I was about to hand it to Aryeh Nachman when Ruti told me that I had given it to her yesterday. One to her and one to R'ayah, their oldest daughter. So I ended up stiffing Aryeh Nachman, but I HAD in fact done the Mitzvah on the day of Purim itself, and even kept it in the family. Phew!

Here's the recovery photo:

PURIM

it's the day when jewish folk dress up funny. and drink.

the mind softens, oozes into mush

i just completed 2 rounds of my favorite annoying time-waster, Text Twist, on Yahoo! Games. They give you six letters, and you have a minute or so to make as many 3- 4- 5- and 6- letter words out of them as possible. Once you get the 6-letter word, you "qualify" to continue to the "next round," which really means nothing. So I got the 6-letter word RABBIT, then a bunch of the 3- and 4- letter words, but couldn't get that damn 5-letter word...

Next round, I figured out PARLAY, and a few 3-letter words, but couldn't get either of the viable 4-letter words. One of them, it turns out, was PLAY.

Once you figure out the 2 i DIDN'T figure out, you'll see why I am ashamed.

____

Blogging is tricky. There are so many things you CAN"T talk about. And there are things you WANT to talk about, but end up too tired to write about, like the time that Erik Garcia and I found the Kosher Thai restaurant closed at 11am when we wanted an early lunch. It's a great story.

I've become so darn lazy. Not a good sign.

Done

Okay. I haven't posted in a while. I don't know if that sucks, or if it don't matter at all or if it's symptomatic of a larger problem within me, or in the universe or if it heralds the coming of a Golden Age, a Dark Age, an Ice Age, a Blue Period or what.

Brown is the New Black.

I delayed my return to Israel by one day (only flight I could find this week), so I could have a minute to breathe, launder my skivvies, hang out with mom, go to the beach with Erik Garcia and not be generally totally stressed out. It's been a great day. Most of it was spent at Wal-Mart, but a great day nonetheless.

Tonite me and Mom are going to see Little Miss Sunshine.

More later.

exploitation of the reader

greetings from US & A. I am in Bradford, Vermont. It's covered in snow.
this post is a pathetic attempt to milk you, my friends, for information.

looking for:

1) A decent and reasonable place to get a nice lunch in Teaneck. Any thoughts?

2) A good KOSHER ASIAN joint in Manhattan or Brooklyn--- noodles preferred, but anything that actually tastes good is great.

Write soon-- after Thursday, February 9, this message will be nothing but a fossil in the great boneyard of the Wanderingstu archives.

Thanks!!!

leaving

Okay. so my flight isn't for a few hours yet, but I leave Bat Ayin to head to the airport in less than 2 hours. The dusk is creeping in over the valley, my last gaze upon the quiet beauty of this scene. I just started feeling some mild jitters-- who knows what the next 3 weeks hold?

Do you?
I reckon He does, as they say.

See you soon, I hope.

Good Morning, US & A

Hi. It's 1pm Bat Ayin Time, so it's time to wake up over there on the East Coast, and get some yoga and coffee brewing.

I fly tomorrow night, which is in about 34 hours. I am excited. Besides being excited about repulsing all the Catholic girls with my payis (a JOKE), I am, strangely, excited about keeping kosher in the States, something which I have never ever ever done. In fact, before my last trip to the US, back in March 2006, I decided that I was specifically NOT eating kosher; I wanted to do the rounds of all my favorite delights, especially Pho.

Of course, Pho is not the biggest loss of Kashrut-- carnitas and raw oysters are. If I get my act together, I can boil up a phat pho here, kosher and all.

I just felt like it had been long enough without a post, so wanted to pop in here, before going to Mincha (afternoon prayer). The great payos debate rages on-- feel free to contribute thoughts on the merits/dangers of religious identification, outward physical signs of allegiance to a particular group/sect/race, when such things become racism, elitism, snobbism, etc.

Fond memories of Michelle Cascio are welcome as well, since she started all of this.

Sidelocks and surreality

I feel wacky these days. Good, but wacky. Like something is changing, like something is giving, opening, shifting.... The past few nights, sleep has been very patchy. In bed before midnite, I am usually awake a few hours later (or less, and always at 4am), realizing that it's futile to lie in the darkness and fight. So I jump up, eat a snack, write an email, call Mom--- eventually I go back to sleep, but it hasn't been the whole night through. Not the past few nights.

And yet I am not tired throughout the day. Just feeling a little wacky. Different. Out of it, and yet in it. Today I got a haircut. More on that later. During the haircut, I drank some Arak from last summer (a Sefardi Jewish version of Sambouca or Ouzo). Later, in class with Rav Daniel, I asked a question on this deep, complex discussion we've been having for months about blessings, wisdom, questions, knowing and not knowing, relating to God, etc... As I asked the question, and he looked at me and smiled, I started cracking up. Not stupid laughing, but a sort of elated, profound laughing that was connected to the questions, which itself was profound, and yet needed no answer. (does this make sense? told you i was feeling wacky). He laughed. Then other people in the class laughed, then I told him that I didn't need an answer, that it was enjoyable enough just to ask.

Uh-huh.

I am excited about my trip. For many reasons. One of them is because I want to see my STUFF. Sweaters and socks and books and comics and- well, mainly sweaters and socks and books and comics. And I am excited, actually, to eat kosher food with Esta. And to eat kosher Indian in Manhattan. And I am excited to see you. And you. And especially YOU (ahem).
HAIRCUT
So I cut my hair today. Actually, Aaron Braun (bottom of this post) cut my hair. The point is-- I now have PAYOS. Payis. Peyos. Payot. Sidelocks. Sidecurls. Whatever-- those funny horns that religious (frum) Jews wear. CLICK THIS. Mine are little right now, and silly-looking (thus no picture yet). But I got 'em. Payos and earrings. Rock n' Roll. It's a great way for a balding guy to have long hair. But a certain person said it's not cool for guys to play with their hair, which could be an issue. I was debating for a while IF I would cut them into my hair, and WHEN to do it-- before the trip to America or after? At first I thought to do it after, so I didn't look too weird, or freak out people I was meeting for the first time, like at Jay and Sarah's wedding. Then I realized, since the last time I left Israel to go home for a wedding, I ended up moving to California with a Catholic waitress I'd met in a Taco joint, maybe it would be better, for me, at least, to be a little funny looking, to remember the deal, and where I'm at, and what I'm up to. Just like I keep the earrings on to not lose the other side of me while I'm here, now I got the 'locks, so I can remain an honest orthodox heretic.

Or something like that.

Okay-- it's Fish n' Chips night upstairs, so I'm gonna run. Below are a selection of photos I came across when trying to Google "payis." (payot sidelocks payos, etc...)

And THIS I discovered in the process. Haven't explored it yet, but it looks odd enough.

employ me!!

It seems so far away, but late January is typically the time to start looking for summer employment. Most summer camps try to do their hiring by February. So it's on the table. Here's what I need--

• a job at a place that provides housing (like a camp or retreat center)

OR

• a job in Atlanta or South Florida or in the Jerusalem area (or in your town, if you have a couch for me-- i do dishes!)

• a job that either pays handsomely enough for me to afford travel costs
  

OR

• a job that provides an airline ticket (if it's in the States)

I am open to opportunities in America OR Israel-- or elsewhere, for that matter, like a goat-herding job in the hills of France (that would be amazing). BUT, the crucial thing is that, while I am looking for a good experience, the main need this summer is to make a decent amount of money to get me through the next year, which means that extraordinary unpaid adventures are (sadly) not on the right page.

My skills are generally in the teaching department, especially Jewish teaching stuff. I am also quite a customer service gent, but not so much of a salesman. If not teaching, I would prefer to do something manual, like construction or farming (rather than work at Blockbuster or in an office).

If you have any ideas, please let me know.

Thanks!!

Blown

Right now, the village of Bat Ayin is in the middle of a thick, foggy, whirling cloud. The wind is totally intense. After washing some dishes, I stepped outside of the Dining Hall to find that all the recycling cans had blown up against the door, flying 15 feet through the air to get there. Unrecycled plastic was scattered everywhere. I ran up the hill to take out the garbage, wind howling around me. Part of the wooden picket fence outside of the yeshiva was flapping in the wind. Visibility limited. There's a guy in Bat Ayin who runs a Paintball place in the city (Jerusalem). He has a trailer that he tows behind his truck, with a 6-foot tall sign advertising the place. He parks it in a little lot near the Yeshiva.

It's tipped over.

Luckily it's not raining too hard, and my caravan (ie- luxurious trailer home) is not too leaky. And I have a heater without mildew in it, so I can stay warm and healthy. The garlic seems to have worked.

Yeah, that's it. Just a little blurb on the wind. More poetic stylings next time... maybe.

I leave for America in 12 days. First stop: Boston.

Shavuah Tov (have a great week!)

vampires and snot

My healer, Alice, has me on a 6-cloves-in-6-hours garlic remedy to blast this snotty cold out of my system. It's stupid to catch a cold 2 weeks before leaving the country. When a flu wiped out half of the Yeshiva 2 weeks ago, somehow I stayed pristine. But one of my heaters is moldy, and it was on all through Shabbes, so that might be somewhat to blame. Needless to say, I stink. Not that I can smell it, so I'm pretty content about the whole thing.

Sometimes people's comments are opaque to me. Not that I don't enjoy them, I just have no idea what to do with them.

Beyond that, it's chilly here, skies have been blue this week, and this blog is kinda dragging.... what to do?

Snow Day

As promised, Dr. Tucker, some daytime shots of Bat Ayin in the snow. All this accumulation was pretty much gone by the end of this same day.

Standing at the Yeshiva, this is the hill across the little valley, where the Arab village is. In between the two hills is the Emek HaElah, where Valley of the Oak (oak?), where David slew Goliath. The view opens all the way to the sea.


At the top of this shot is my humble (and somewhat leaky) home.

This is the other side of the hill where the Yeshiva is. Our side faces a hill with an Arab village on it. [It's funny, I never thought of Arabs in the snow before. But there they are.] This side faces another hill, which has a forest and a few natural spring mikvehs (ritual baths) and a lovely restaurant/cafe on the other side. What's amazing is to look down in that valley and see the line where the snow just stops, and everything is nice and brown. It's a little hard to tell in this shot, but the snow line is actually visible on the hill that holds Bat Ayin.

Your faithful host.

The one and only Avraham Eliezer, who lives down there in that valley, where there ain't no snow. I wonder if he's got rain right now...

We sure as heck do. Last night was a howlin' wind and rain and lightning and thunder storm. I sat in my trailer alone and made Kiddush for Shabbes (the Sanctification of the Holy Sabbath), and watched the whole trailer shake. Squeakers was a bit freaked out as well. At one point, I thought that lightning had struck inside the trailer: there was a sudden flash of white right in front of my eyes. But the thunder was a second or two later, so it wasn't even that close. Must have been the angle of the light in the window. In any event, the rain has barely stopped since yesterday afternoon. Luckily I had a ton of heaters on, so I had a nice little Shabbat meal by myself. A tiny bit of bread and some amazing soup I made. I'm still on the juice fast, but had bread to honor Shabbat.

My chevruta (study partner) Ari came by and brought some delicious natural juices (and a sinful Almond-Ghat Leaf chocolate drink) from Uzi Eli, the Yemenite medicine man in Jerusalem who makes all sorts of wild concoctions. Today I went to the home of my friends Eliyahu and Rivka Adina Dror, and spent all all all day there, from 11am until 6pm,, then walked home in the fog and rain. It was a good Shabbes.

Hope you have a great week.

P.S. By way of complaint- when this nice little Yeshiva boy mentions a strip club and bacon in the same post, I expect some comments, fer cryin' out loud.

Clean

Today is the fourth day of my juice fast. The last real meal I had was on Shabbes, lunch with the Bialer Rebbe-- a huge salmon and some great chulent (Shabbat stew), among other things. I ate some M&Ms Saturday night, but not a lick of solid food since then. My excellent pal Lazer Zinn has been with me on the fast. He started last week, and is going off of it tomorrow.

Today's lunch juice was cucumber-beet-tomato-orange-lettuce-cayenne pepper. Sounds freakish, but was actually quite bold and refreshing. Breakfast was apple-pear-kiwi-ginger.

As well, I am drinking clay and psyllium husks and lots of tea, and sneaking occasional swigs of natural maple syrup (a gift from Dr. Tucker) for my mo.

If any of you saw the movie Crumb, you remember the brother who swallowed the 50-foot ribbon in order to cleanse his intestines. I am doing that, but my ribbon is a long piece of parchment with the name of God written on it. Not really. Not at all. Actually, I am engaged in other cleansing activities as well, but i won't detail them here, for the sake of the public.

I am spending Shabbat in Bat Ayin, preceded (please God) by a nice Friday morning massage. On Shabbat I will eat a little bread (a bissele brot), make some nice hearty Shabbes veggie broth, and lay around a lot under warm blankets, enjoying my Holy Solitude.

I am not sure when I will come off the fast. I guess when it feels right. So far, so good.

You know, I did a week-long juice fast by myself years ago in Florida. On the last day of the fast, a few of the gang (i believe Nic and Mike Walsh) were in town, and it was a special occasion, so a bunch of us went out to the Solid Gold Club on Federal Highway. That night, after a week of nothing but pure fruit and veggie juice, I drank several gin and cranberries, smoked a bunch of cigarettes and then, around 1am at Denny's, had a grilled cheese with bacon and tomato, fries and ketchup and an Oreo milkshake.

God-willing, I shall be easing off of this fast in a more contained manner.

a new post

someone asked for a new post.
ach-- forgive my slacking... i left you all in the snow,
AND promised daytime snow pictures to at least one of you, and have yet to pay up... tomorrow night I will skip going to a friend's wedding, just so i can blog for YOU.

All of you.

In the meantime, today is the third day of my juice fast. Breakfast this morning-- apple/kiwi/pear/carrot with homemade almond milk.

Today we being the intestinal cleaning as well. Fun!