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Nov. 5th, 2008 | 07:07 pm

blowing off the accumulated live journal dust and actually posting. this must seriously be tom sawyer day. what a happy day it is. one day after a very detailed complete body physical checkup. suprising to me i'm really healthy. i mean my body's taken a pounding in all sorts of ways and still the doc said i'm good. actually very good. i also had my balls examined and they're fine so thats very exciting news too. the doc asked to feel them i didnt offer. this was my first physical in 13 years and i loved it so much i made another appointment to do it again in 2 weeks. that's a joke. it even made the doctor laugh.
to detail what's going on atm will take volumes and my time is so limited and travels intricate, so hello lj and i really appreciate you waiting around for me and of course a big shoutout to GOD cuz i'm seriously blessed. i haven't figured out why He keeps taking care of me and watching over me but i'm grateful thankful and humbled. just one ques-why obama?

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Beware the Eyes of May

Oct. 10th, 2007 | 01:19 pm

Blue-eyed people better off, say scientists

 

 

  • Blue-eyed people "better strategic thinkers"
  • Are "likely to achieve more in life"

PEOPLE with blue eyes are likely to achieve more in life than those with brown, say US scientists.

Scientists who conducted the tests said brown-eyed people performed better at reaction time, but those with lighter eyes appeared to be better strategic thinkers, the Daily Mail reported.

Brown-eyed people succeeded in activities such as football and hockey, but lighter-eyed participants proved to be more succesful in activities that required skills in time structuring and planning such as golf, cross-country running and studying for exams, the scientists said.

Louisville University professor Joanna Rowe, who conducted the tests, said the results suggested an unexplored link between eye colour and academic achievement.

"It is just observed, rather than explained," she said.

"There's no scientific answer yet."

Bedfordshire University senior psychology lecturer Dr Tony Fallone, who has also studied eye colour, believed it should be taken more seriously as an indicator of personality and ability, the Daily Mail reported.

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I like this (keep clicking to enlarge)

Aug. 5th, 2007 | 02:14 pm

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Blink

Aug. 2nd, 2007 | 01:23 am

What a tornado of thoughts swirling around in my head. I picture a strong gust of wind pulling colorful leaves off the tree's branches and a child running about trying to catch a few. I attempt to grab hold of these thoughts but the leaves just fall to the ground. Palms raised with little fingers protruding from the sleeve and a hood half concealing the child’s adorable face. Head tilted towards the highest branches waiting for the next wind to keep the game going. Finally tiring and moving to the next activity I envy the child. The thoughts tire me and the next activity interests me as much as watching seconds count on a digital clock. Each night this week I've been more tired than the next but my schedule's been nearly the same. I manage to spice it up by doing some personal activities during the day. Today I got my new wedding suit tailored and accomplished an important meeting. Yesterday I returned my cable box after having cancelled it week’s ago. The TV hasn't been turned on in what feels like years. Who would ever want a thing like that in their house bewilders me at the moment. The thought of going to a theatre makes no sense to me at all. I feel elevated and attached. I'm on a mission and this time I know it's not a drill anymore. This is real. People seem to be recognizing the new mission because three different people randomly emailed me and said "welcome back". I don't know where I went but I definitely know where I'm going. There's a parking spot waiting for me and if only I knew where my license was I could drive there without fear. I really did misplace my license this morning. I took it out of my wallet because I drove to Shul instead of walk and I didn't want the bulk of a wallet with me while I prayed. This evening I remembered I had placed it inside my jacket but alas it was not there. Could be it somehow fell out in Shul or I will find it inside my house. I also don't remember which jacket I wore this morning. I know it will turn up the questions is when. I thought I'd knock out a really fun piece tonight because I was in that kind of mood but my learning schedule did not permit. I have to finish in time for the bash and right now that is my priority and also in so many ways my connection. The moment that book opens it's like the plug has been placed into the socket. Even carrying that book from shelf to table is electric. I've never felt such conviction and excitement from doing any activity like that book is giving me. I hope I can reciprocate by being a worthy set of eyes to absorb the knowledge it encompasses. Dear reader, when the thoughts are flooding like they are now, I can't seem to take one or even a bunch and make it into a clever little whimsical batter of blog. I will make this happen though. The upcoming trip with everyone will give me spacious writing conditions and more importantly non thinking conditions which are optimal to get realness onto paper or in my case the computer. I don't exaggerate when I say I dozed twelve times amidst whatever this concoction was above. Strangely I smell flowers each time I blink.

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Emotional haze

Jul. 26th, 2007 | 12:53 pm

I dined with elegance last night. Round table with all the trimmings. Crest white tablecloth accentuated by glistening silver cutlery. The utensils sparkled. They were the heavy real kind of cutlery with some German signature on each piece proving their authenticity. The company was just me and fiancé and our generous host. He took immense pleasure giving us to drink from a bottle of kosher Ten Thousand Dollar wine. It was so over the top that the bottle even had printed on it the price as part of its description. Oddly adding to its elegance and keeping the ostentatious police at bay.

 

Currently stuck in the vicissitudes of bachelorhood I do most of my own cooking and more often than not I prepare a meat or chicken dish for dinner. I am supposing that the 9 day ban interpreted my meat cravings into the safe haven of cerebral dreaming. By that I mean I actually had a dream I could remember. The wine was really the icing but I woke up before I had a chance to taste it. More importantly my life's love eluded me once again and remained a haze. Snippity loo I hope she comes out of hiding soon.

 

Blurry and draped in haze except for her eyes....

 

I don't know what's with me and eyes but I control not my dreams. I remember hers so clearly amidst the aura of haze surrounding her. The moment I gazed upon them was my introduction to poetry for the eyes. They were so satisfying to look at but never giving off the luxury of fulfillment. The more I looked the more I wanted.

 

This wasn't your ordinary situation. This was a gift from heaven saying perfection exists. Perfection of mind and perfection for me. That's one meaning of what a soul mate is-a flawed person who we see as perfect. Their flaws hardly even register. Flaws turning into beauty and beauty translating into pure love.

 

A smile devilishly consistent on this innocent face. Mundane seems ripened and taking on new connotations. Buds seem to blossom as she walks by and the chirping birds sing just a little louder. Whence does this come? Who possesses such innate inner beauty effecting me like no other?

 

She looks the same with rose colored glasses or without. This my friend was poetry for the eyes. This my friend will always be poetry for my soul. 

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I am in shock (i think but can't really think)!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Jul. 26th, 2007 | 01:19 am

(copied and pasted from google)

How To Handle Post Traumatic Syndrome

A) Understand What Is Happening – It Is Normal

It helps a great deal, first of all, to understand what is going on. Some people become terrified that they are going crazy, or losing control. Just realizing that it is perfectly normal for these feelings to be discharged will help a great deal. Do not fear your feelings, you are simply finally reacting to the shock you’ve been through.

B) Do Not Be Ashamed – Do Not Resist Feelings

Allow yourself to feel what is going on, breathe deeply through the feelings, and allow them to pass. Let go. Do not try to control the feelings. They are only energy that is now being released. These feelings are simply a response to what you have been through; they do not mean that something is wrong with you. When they arise be gentle with yourself, kind and patient. When these feelings are not resisted, they pass more easily.

C) Express Love, Warmth and Solidarity

It helps to be with those you love and care for. Friendship, bonding and love are wonderful antidotes for the feeling of meaningless and danger. Hug each other, express your love, know that although part of the world has crumbled, a great deal of good remains. There is stability in the love you can now share with others. Don’t hold back.

D) Do What You Can To Help

Reach out to others in anyway you can. Make a call to a loved one, write a note, go to lunch with a friend. Take some time to be quiet or go to a place you love in nature. Allow yourself to absorb both your feelings and the events that are going on.

E) Prayer, Silence And Meditation

Of course, the deepest sense of security and stability comes from one’s connection to a Higher Power, or one’s Higher Self. This is an important time to connect with that which is ultimately meaningful to you. Spend time in prayer, silence, contemplation or meditation; know that you are looked after and that there is a larger purpose in all that goes on.

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No Title

Jul. 26th, 2007 | 01:15 am

There’s an amazing story I feel very appropriate for the month of Av and specifically the 9th and 10th of Av. The Torah tells us that we must treat orphans and widows in the most sensitive of ways. The Torah uses a double language when telling us of the punishment for hurting an orphan or widow. Some commentaries tell us the reason for the double seemingly repetitive language is   Gd will punish anyone who inflicts pain on these people double as much as well as answer the prayers or cries of these people twice as fast. Hashem says these people are missing an important part of their lives and are lacking someone to turn to in a time of need. Their pain is considered doubled and Gd says they can turn to me and I’ll protect them and answer them twice as fast.

 

There was a great rabbi known as Rav Berel Solovechik who was a grandson of the Beis Halevi. The Solovechik dynasty is a blessed dynasty with many generations of holy Rabbi’s. When Rav Berel was older and a Rosh Hayeshiva he became very ill. He was weak and his wife attended to all his needs while he remained sick in bed. One afternoon his wife came to check on him and she asked if there’s anything she can do. The Rav replied “Yosef Loibler is not here”. She had no idea who this person was and why her husband was mentioning a name he had never mentioned before. The next day Rav Berel died.

 

At the Shiva his wife was trying to find out who this person was. Rav Yosef who was Rav Berel’s brother said I’ll tell you who Yosef Loibler was. He said it stems from a story of our grandfather the Beis Halevi. When the Beis Halevi was a young boy in school he came home one day and said I’m not going to school anymore and I don’t want to study with my Rabbi.  The Beis Halevi’s father asked him why he’s saying this. The Beis Halevi replies I don’t like this rabbis’ character, he’s not a good man. The Beis Halevi continues and says that today in school the rabbi had a contest and 2 boys came in first place and the rabbi had one prize and one boy was the son of a rich man and the other was an orphan and the rabbi gave the prize to the son of the rich man. The Beis Halevi says how can a rabbi do this to an orphan boy. He said this isn’t a rabbi I can study torah by. Now the father understood where his son was coming from. The father gently says you’re right but you have to go to school. The father was smart and later that night bought a gift and brought it to the rabbi. He said to the rabbi do me a favor and tomorrow give this gift to the other boy and explain that you only had one at the time yesterday and you intended on obtaining another one to give today. The Beis Halevi’s father comes home and tells his son that I’m sure the rabbi made a mistake and tomorrow I’m sure he’s going to do the right thing. Sure enough the rabbi gives an explanation in class the next day and presents the prize to the second boy. The Beis Halevi was calmed down a little but still had issue with the rabbi causing the orphan boy pain for even one day.

 

Later on but still as a young man the Beis Halevi became very sick and fell into a coma. Miraculously after a short period he awoke from the coma. His family of course asks him what happened. The Beis Halevi said my time was up and they were bringing me to Shamayim. Just as we reached the gates where my Neshama was to enter, there was a man standing in front of the gates blocking our passage. The angels went up to this person and said who are you? The man answered I am Yosef Loibler. The angels said the name Yosef Loibler means nothing to us. The man answered I am the father of the orphan boy in the class and this person you have here protected my son and he cannot die. The Malachim said I’m sorry but it’s his time to go. The man said I am Yosef Loibler and this young man protected my son and I’m not moving from these gates. The Malachim could say nothing further and brought him back to this world.

 

Reb Yosef said that’s how my grandfather the Beis Halevi lived a long life. It was because he protected the yasom. He continued saying that’s what my brother Reb Berel was referring to. Rav Berel said I don’t see Yosef Loibler here. If he was here I would be protected and since I don’t see him it’s my time to go. If one pains an orphan he doesn’t have a father in this world to protect him but his father is in the next world. His biological father always watches over him. Can you imagine the pain a father has in Gan Eden watching his child getting hurt. A father who’s alive feels pain for his son how much more for one who isn’t alive.

 

The Beis Halevi who defended the rights of an orphan felt the power of the words in the Pasuk. Meforshim say don’t just say this applies to an orphan or widow but to any underdog and even further anyone part of Klal Yisroel. Sometimes we feel alone and we should know there is always a father in heaven. If not our biological father then the father of all people our father in heaven.

 

Today without the Mikdash we are all considered to an extent to be without our father. No matter how tough times are we have a partner listening to our cries. We should always look at things as is we have a partner helping us tackle issues.  There is something about two people attacking a problem together that diminishes the size of the mountain. Know that with every good deed and conquering of our evil inclination the mountain is crumbling a bit.

 

A friend recently confided in me in order to ask my advice. I listened to their situation and gave an answer. A few weeks later I received a call from the same friend bemoaning this unchanged situation. In an effort to be sensitive, I didn’t ask why they didn’t heed my words and attempt to go about my way of resolving their state of affairs. I listened again and calmly implored them to try a different approach; my approach. A few days later I received the fortunate news that the state of affairs was well on its way to complete peace of mind. You can imagine how tempted I was to say “I told you so”. The “I told you so” shot of morphine for my ego.

 

Over the past year I’ve been trying to weed out the “I told you so” from my vernacular. I felt that aside for being superfluous words they were also considered very conceited. Just because I’m correct in my advice doesn’t give me boasting rights. Especially when a friend or stranger is in pain and needs egoless support.

 

The sages teach us that amidst any sorrow there is always a ray of light. For all the reasons to mourn on Tisha B’av perhaps we can find a small reason to celebrate. Celebrate our own personal conquering of our ego. Even in minute amount. Building upon the minute can eventually create the ultimate structure which will encourage Heaven to let down the third Temple.

We spend the 9th of Av fasting and doing what we can to learn more about Jewish history and of course what led to the destruction. We all feel pain and suffering in our own lives and we use that pain to feel pain for the destruction of the Mikdash and for the countless yidden who perished honoring Gd’s name. Imagine the hurt you felt when something you worked on for a while was destroyed or lost. I recently wrote a long important email which was somehow deleted prior to it being sent. I was upset for a moment and then I reflected on something interesting to help me put things into perspective. As much as I was hurting when the email was lost, imagine if I lost something truly significant to me. Something irreplaceable. Could you imagine for a moment what all the Jewish people felt, 2000 years ago, when the real Temple was destroyed? The Jews of ancient Judea had never known life without Gd in their midst. The Temple of Shlomo had dominated their existence for almost 400 years. Daily life in Jerusalem revolved around the Temple service, and even those who resided far away were obligated to make the pilgrimage to the Temple three times a year. Life without the Temple and the Divine immanence it represented was as inconceivable as ... the New York skyline without the World Trade Center. I type an email in half an hour or lose some money - they lost everything. The Temple was their home for over 400 years and now they were left with nothing. Of course my momentary pain seems frivolous amidst the suffering of the Jews when the temple was destroyed, but I think that’s what Gd wants from us. He wants us to instill the temples destruction even into the most mundane of activities that we do.

I was blessed with a tremendous insight into Tisha B’Av this year. The two holiest days of the year, Yom Kippur and Rosh Hashana are days we devote entirely to ourselves. We start with begging Gd for life, happiness, sustenance and the culmination is our pleading for forgiveness by means of repentance and showing remorse for our past actions. These Holy days are in essence selfish days. They are days we spend talking direct to Gd and asking for things for ourselves and our families. They’re days when we are elevated to such lofty levels that we can say aloud “Baruch Shem Malchuso L’olam V’aed”. Our entire year and life is dependant on those two days. Tisha B’av is so unique in that we are focusing on everyone else. We focus on how we can better ourselves and the world around us. We see what we can do to love more and have a better marriage. How can we give more of ourselves to people in need and rebuild the self esteem of the one’s who we may have wronged. We forgive people and forget past infractions. Giving and altruism according to many Mekubalim is what will bring Moshiach. When we can take the focus off ourselves and love purely and give purely that’s when the world will merit to receive from Hashem the Mikdash and a resting place for the Shechina. A person's desire to give to others is developed in relation to this goal. When us humans can attain this quality which will allow us to give up our selfishness and devote ourselves to loving each other for the sake of life's purpose, as stated in the commandment "love thy neighbor as thyself” then we will have achieved our Gdly potential and deserve much better days ahead.

I would like to indirectly tie this to the area of marriage and the plethora of singles plagued by remaining single and therefore unable to create a family. Many marriage minded singles pray often, give charity, travel the world to graves of holy Rabbi’s and have exhausted nearly every good luck charm (segulah) in the book and out of the book. What more can be done to aid this pandemic? I certainly don’t have the answers. I would like to suggest a simple approach. According to many this is the Nisayon of our generation so we need to combat it in a creative way. Marriage creates a family and the Shechina rests when there is a family in place. Having children creates more and more opportunities for the Shechina to rest. Gd wants us to give Him a place for the Shechina but providing that place like all good things won’t necessarily come easy for many of us. According to every rabbi, psychologist, counselor and matchmaker, the most important and fundamental aspect of marriage is giving. Those who are unmarried can unfortunately not give to their soul mates but they can still give. Many find it easy to give charity to the poor person who knocks on our door with a sob story but not everyone offers and gives that person a cup of water to drink. Many people go out of the way to give a friend a helping hand but forget about people close to home who need it more. Giving isn’t always glamorous and not always satisfying for our egos. Giving without many knowing is a really high level and one not easily obtained. I truly feel that through our giving just a bit more, with a little more sincerity, with a little more focus than just writing out a check and placing it into the mail, will really help us personally achieve the greatness we desire and bring us the spouse we so desperately crave. Writing the check and giving money is so important but not everyone has the means to do that. The beauty of giving is that it can even achieve greatness from a few kind or encouraging words. The benefits of giving tzedaka is instant gratification and I Gd forbid don’t mean to lessen that feeling or merits that person deserves. BUT there is more we can give and that is in the act of giving itself. Giving selflessly and hopefully attaining the level of giving as between husband and wife. Through that giving I think we will show Gd that we are ready to have our spiritually blind eyes illuminated in order for us to see our bashert.

I will end with a thought that is close to my heart. This week we read the famous words “Nachamu Nachamu Ami”. Reb Nachman says that the word Nachamu stands for “Ner Chanuka Mosif V’holech”. We add a candle everyday to the menorah in a way of increasing spirituality and increasing light. This light is what will bring us comfort and eventually redemption. We read this the Shabbos after Tisha B’av to show us that not only during Chanuka are we increasing light and festiveness but we can do this even in the most harrowing of times right after the destruction. We need to just light the candle in our souls. Like fire spreads so quickly so will the spirituality we resolve to permeate the world with. Don’t for one second ever give up hope and know that it’s true that you alone can bring the redemption. Your own personal redemption and that of the entire world.

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just hit delete

Jul. 16th, 2007 | 07:09 pm

This one is me being a typical blogger writing about nothing.
I cleaned up my entire Inbox this weekend. I deleted 1500 old messages and saved a couple hundred special ones in various folders. What memories. All the way back to 2002. If only filing away mental memories and deleting thoughts and more memories would be this easy. I made a folder called "Ego" for all the nice letters I've received from people for various acts deserving thanks and even those not but getting it anyway. I deleted many dates and information about girls I've never met. Deleted itineraries, thoughts, quotes and jokes. Saved some of the things I want to re-read as well as things I haven't had time to read. I'm sure in a few months I'll be able to delete some more memories and it's amazing how just a simple virtual delete can act as delete for the mind. To all who disagree (including myself) it's definitely a good start. Finally, I deleted anything I would be ashamed of showing to another person. Phew.
Today I went on facebook for the first time in many months. I don't officially have an account but I can login and view the few people who attempted to add me as their friends. The cover picture I saw of an old friend made me lose my mind for a moment but I'm glad to report the erratic breathing has ceased and my pulse is back to normal. I am very curious to know where it was taken and by whom but not everything curious is worth the answer it brings. I learned that the hard way. 
There you have it a simple glimpse into parts of my weekend and today. Oh, I also spoke to my friend in Israel via webcam. That was pretty cool. 
As they say after I pay for shwarma.... L'hitraot

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Ribbons astray

Jun. 8th, 2007 | 08:17 pm

I read something truly amazing and creative today. The words woven so beautifuly like the graceful fluidity of a blue ribbon hugging the contours of a yellow orchids stem held in a childs hand. The stem rising firmly from the fist and exploding into a panoply of beauty contrasting more beauty. This inspired me to write and my conundrum is that today there is so much to say. 
To be cont...

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Antisuccinctly Speaking

May. 18th, 2007 | 01:07 pm

I'm not in a proof-reading mood so posting whats mine will have to wait. Instead I post what was intended for me and only shown to me more than a year after it was written. You wont understand a word of it so i'll explain. It's basically expressing thanks by someone who is an atypical expresser of thanks and uses words like non-sequitur and introversion rebooting. It also says how wonderful I am. Touching. Really.


Return of the Geese
To whom it may concern:

The geese have returned and are looking fine. And relaxed, which is more than I can say for myself. In the words of those that have spoken it was "very very very very very very cool...." "so you....(as in me)" "had the best widest softest biggest one ever..." "....was funky" and other similar sequiters. In other words, the geese were thrilled.

Just thought I'd let you know,

The Non-Sequitur Princess formerly known as The Stranger

PS The alien has not come to earth. Still on Pluto, not intending to descend. May the merrymaking continue unabated.

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Hun.. i'm comin home tonight

May. 18th, 2007 | 12:16 pm

I wrote this comment in anothers journal and now i am returning it home:

Relationships are drastically different than friendships. Nary a friendship occurs when we obliterate all sense of reality and undress ourselves emotionally as we do in a healthy intimate relationship. Some similarities possibly but friends don't ask other friends to purchase a tub of Haagen-Dazs at
2am.

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Up isn’t down. Down isn’t up.

May. 17th, 2007 | 08:24 pm

Handcuffs. Booze. Lychee. Candles. Percocet. Internet. Dvr. Takeout. Ex Mother in laws. Beeatches. Left handedness. Taurus. Cusp. New generation. Penning. BB gun sharp shooting. Funky Parsha thought. Freedom of association.
 
The bag's out of the cat which means the secret is all over town. It was a good one and two more fine Jews will be walking to the alter in three months.
 
The party was a smash as only big momma could throw. Many conversations had and hands a shooken. One in particular stands out but that's there and not here.
 
The big bro. That would be me. Not my colossal imposing stature. Not the piercing baby blues or iron grip. This is completely genealogical. Being introduced to a new family which I had no say whether I approve or not requires delicate presentation.
 
Allow me to take you into my world of mock sophistication: I begin with the slight air stroking of my non-existent "Fu Manchu moustache". Simply put that's like giving an air massage. It looks completely ridiculous but distracts people enough to buy some valuable time. Fu Manchu is that long yoga master looking kung fu style moustache which thinly hugs the upper lips contours and then droops down the faces precipice way past the chin.
 
Not sure where I was going with the above. I'm on a plane and the dude next to me reeks of coffee and newspaper. If I was mean I'd take out my tuna sandwich and let the fumes waft into the air. I can picture the fume wisps spiraling all about like out of a comic book.
 
I really have nothing to write at this time. I thought of a wonderful topic but I'm not ready to tackle that right now. I can write my thoughts on people who feel the need to critique my writing. I can start the novel I've been postponing for more than a year. I can finish one of about ten unfinished stories saved in my bberry. I can write of imminent birthdays, weddings, dates, or even share a great sweetbread recipe.
 
What do people like to hear? What do I like to write?
 
I'm into the more abstract. Some reality infused with a little imaginative meshivity. Logic impeccable, words convincing and sincerity humbling. My attempt to appear sagacious humorous.
 
All the more reason why down is not up and up is not down.

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Mabrouk

May. 9th, 2007 | 06:31 am

Keeping it a secret is so much more difficult than I imagined. It's 5:30 AM and I'm juggernauting with anticipation. Finally someone else experiencing my inner and outer torridity. Probably in a more muted form but nevertheless there. The coolness factor is that right now it's still a secret and very hush hush. That secret factor will be gone in around twelve hours. So truth be told I did tell a few unrelated people in a city far far away who have no connection and no way of giving up the secret but it's more fun living on the secret precipice. It's not often that I have a juicy secret to share which is technically completely harmless. Most secrets involve personal information that could be damaging to a persons reputation or self esteem. I'm just a mere twelve hours away from losing this childish secret anticipation and I don't want it to leave me. When it was told to me I felt the secrets snake-like prehensile wrap around me and begin squeezing. It was euphoric. I could feel the serotonin coursing through my body just as my brain was dialing the endorphin toll free hotline for another installment of the brain manna.
I can score some serious secret points with some people by revealing the information prior to its public release. I can reciprocate with a few people for things they've told me of similar vein but a secret needs to be shared with someone trustworthy and a confidant. 
I will revel in these thoughts and live my self proclaimed adage. I am the best secret keeper I know.

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Lights out

Jan. 15th, 2007 | 08:49 am

I wrote about my friend who passed away last week. On the evening of his funeral I lit a candle in honor of his soul. I placed it on a counter in my house. It stated on the packaging 26 hour candle. Three and a half days later it was still burning strong. When I awoke this morning I checked it and it had finally burned out. I wasn't creep'd or spooked but I'll admit it was nice having some company for a change. The flickering and unpredictable rhythmless bounce of the flame was almost like that of a small child. Never knowing where it'll next move if you keep it unwatched for even a moment. There's a lot of light in this world, yet so much blindness. There's much peace, yet so much war. There is abundant happiness, yet so many sad. There's a whole lot for the taking and much being given. There's a time and a place so let us be aware. Let the good times roll, the rain pour, the light shine, peace infiltrate, babies be born, families unite, and the flames in our soul never extinguish.

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Rhetorically Speaking

Jan. 15th, 2007 | 08:17 am

Would there be a point in confronting a person living in another state if I felt them emanating negative energy and vibes probably due to recent spiritually decadent events in their being?

 

Answer: Nah

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Homeless & Happy (revised)

Jan. 11th, 2007 | 12:21 am

I had been living in Miami just two weeks when I saw him. Sitting behind

the wheel of my Japanese car, I drummed my fingers creating an appropriate

beat for the staccato stopping and starting of the weekend’s exodus to

the beach. Luckily for the Jews they didn't have cars back in Egypt

because we’d still be waiting in line.

Running, waving, smiling and shirtless, I saw a bearded man zigzagging through
traffic. He passed my car and nodded in that respectful acknowledging way two
strangers nod or in past times tip their hat.

I was next introduced to Mark while studying at the local Kollel. I began a
daily ritual studying each morning. Mark came sauntering in jolly as can be. 
He had a presence about him which could not be ignored. From the studious 
to the otherwise preoccupied, when Mark was around you stared in anticipation. 
Always wondering about the next humorous witticism or worldly observation he 
was going to create.

Mark's jokes were usually laden with some kind of Jewish undertone. He was always 
a Yid at heart and never walked out of a room until every person was smiling. Either
smile or give him a dollar was his unspoken motto.

I didn't know much about Mark's past until after his funeral. I was told
he grew up just like everyone else and attended yeshiva. I was told
he had a special gift for playing chess. Somewhere in his 20's he traveled the
country and ended up living in
New Orleans for nearly twenty years. Around two 
years ago he came to
Miami where his family was the Kollel and local community. 
Most nights the Kollel became his home. Mark lost his mother at a young age and 
his father died a few years ago. He has one brother who spoke of his generosity and
selflessness during the eulogy.

I have had a few opportunities to speak with Mark one on one. You'd never guess
I was speaking with a homeless man whose greatest joy was walking the streets
fully clothed in the rain and then walking fully undressed post rain to dry off.
He absolutely loved telling the story of his arrest. "Officer, my clothing will
dry faster if I’m not wearing them".

I had the privilege to help Mark a few times and he never took advantage. A
polite thank you was always said. I had a bag full of clothing sitting in my
trunk for months which I was trying to donate to charity. For some reason I
couldn't ever reach the person who is in charge of this in the community. I
ended up giving mark the bag along with a box of sushi and then a ride. His
thanks and appreciation was simple yet so sincere. He was a Mentch. I was 
informed at the funeral that Mark usually gave the clothing and money he received 
to people he felt were more in need than he was. He lived his life to bring joy 
to others. He told everyone that he owns nothing and he needs nothing. Mark 
truly lived by the words of Chazal "we will not take anything with us after death". 
He reminded us that by giving to him we were really giving to ourselves becuase 
once we pass, the only denomination allowed entrance into the world of truth is 
what we gave to help others.

Mark was the happiest Jew I have ever met. He'll laugh and smile warmly while
telling you how he was arrested and then look at you and tell you as if you were
his closest friend how he recently checked himself into the hospital because he
was fearful he would cause harm to himself. Mark was a special person and like all
special people we never truly appreciate them until after they're gone. The entire 
community will miss him dearly.

Each Friday I'd see him and he'd wish me a good Shabbos and tell me he hopes to
see me later tonight at Shabbos dinner. Walking into the local grocery today and 
not hearing those words, only makes me realize what a part of everyday living he had
become. 

Mark passed away Tuesday afternoon. He couldn't be more than mid 40's. 
He was never married and he had no real family. Telling a mourner their loved
one should rest in peace and that they're in a better place always seemed so secular 
to me. I know that my friend Mark is truly in a better place. Finally a place
that 
will take care of him. He can wander around continuing his jolly ways and that 
permanent smile will finally become one of everlasting peace. Mark should
no longer be referred to as the homeless man. Rather, the man who has finally
gone home.

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Alone in the light

Jan. 3rd, 2007 | 08:56 am

A constant speed is good for gas mileage-and for some reason that seemed

important at the time. Indeed. 6 AM and I was wide awake I thought aloud. I'll

yawn myself to sleep if I have to...and the soliloquy ended asking myself what

that's supposed to mean...and by that I mean I know exactly what that's supposed

to mean. I still have an hour of rapid eye movement exercise to accomplish.

Those creases near my eyes when I smile don't occur on their own. Attention

deficit disorder should not be diagnosed at this hour and the sun rising over

the Atlantic makes me long to share life with you. On a trip like this one must 

be careful  about gas consumption. Avoid those quick bursts of acceleration that 


drag blood back to the brain. Didn't think I was done with gas did ya!

 

Today seems like it'll be like all others except it has and will never occur

again. Each second a first in creation and an extension of G-d's six. I had the

same dreamless night I usually have when I'm overtired. I don't need to remember

my dreams for I know precisely what they are. Right now awake and loquacious I

dream of eating breakfast at an old style diner. You know the kind with the

jukebox, in your face Vegas style neon lights and mini glass Coca-Cola bottles.

 

I think I dreamt that I was dumped by my imaginary girlfriend. She's imaginary

because I created her. Not created as one of those manic notions which passes

quickly. She took meticulous planning. As my own attorney, I will advise myself

to stop right there. Aw heck, can't stop before telling you how I met my

imaginary girlfriend.

 

It was Starbucks. I was the last in a line of three. I was early for work and in

a chipper spring morning mood. Her hair was yanked back using some sort of

elastic device and she had that look which said mind at work-violators will be

prosecuted to the fullest extent of my law. Her eyes round and luminous. Their

color difficult to discern as that would entail looking into them which seemed

preposterous at the time.

 

She was stirring raw cane into her cup while I was restocking my cars coffee

napkin supply. She grabbed hold of her cup and just as I was noticing her

ringless fingers, gravity somehow seemed to be hurling her cup which hit the

table, splashed over her and then splashed the floor. Lucky for her I was there

for a quick quip.

 

I wonder I said aloud, did that spill come from a cup that was half full or half

empty. Her smile danced with eyes which I finally had the courage to gaze

into. They had color, but if I described them to you, you'd try to find her and I am

not sharing. Thanks a latte she said causing me to regress to my youthful

giggle. Coffee forgotten, the spill paramedics unit having arrived, we strolled

out into the glorious day ahead.

 

This was different. We shared my coffee and sat in her car. Our rich banter full

of flirting. Neither of us a flirt but our communications till this day full of

flirtatious undertones and at times overtones and sometimes flirty run-on

sentences. The thought of showing to work on time occurring to us both that it has

not occurred. We communicate in this form strange enough. In that unique way two

people comfortable with each other can. Almost as if speaking to oneself except

this time being inhaled by the stormy eyes and fixed gaze of my modern day

Cleopatra.

 

We exchanged the usual stuff strangers talk about. I say that so you should not

get jealous. Nothing about our exchange was typical. To us it seemed to flow and

we took for granted that all communications were this way. If conversation were

mountainous spring water we'd make a mint.

 

I told her how I'd fallen off a running horse in Cairo while she told me of her

childhood. I spoke of my family and she some of her funnier college moments. We

spoke of loss and dreams.  Turns out we both squirted ketchup accidentally at the

person sitting in front of us at a ballgame. Only difference was I didn't inform

the unlucky patron. She did. I was learning from her and we haven't even

exchanged favorite colors and deepest fears.

 

Hey girl, wanna skip some more work and join me for a grapefruit? She smiled. I

suggested going back into Starbucks and getting a packet of raw cane to sprinkle

over the grapefruit when she pulled two out from her purse. A purse which

matched her eyes. Did I say that? Or just think it? Was I talking? Did she hear

me?

 

My attorney's getting mad that I'm telling you all this. Perhaps I shall

continue when he leaves.

 

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Lost and Found

Dec. 5th, 2006 | 07:56 am

I usually write under the influence. Lately I have not been writing under the influence. I write when I feel the need to unburden myself. Sometimes I even write to share. My influence is not any kind of controlled substance. It's  usually passion caused by some deep rooted feeling. My past couple of pieces did not feel that and I think it is obvious to the reader as it is to me. Until I can feel that again I remain sober, somber and soliloquous.

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Flutterings (fiction)

Dec. 4th, 2006 | 11:20 pm

It was one of my secrets. A silly one at that, but still it was mine. 
By sheer fact that I have not shared it with anyone, made it sacred for me. 
Perhaps I should call it a secret fantasy. A harmless wish which could hurt no one. 
Its consequence only causing a flutter in my heart.

My fantasies rarely involve science fiction. Nothing as lofty as peter pan and
certainly never wishing for the strength of Samson. Let me correct that and say
I wish I had Samson’s strength in areas of self control and truth be told I do.
We all do. Even when we feel we don’t we truly do.

The flutter of my heart could indicate only one thing. She is near. Not her
physical presence but her memory and all that she stands for. Her being has been
infused into mine. She will not be waiting for me, yet I will be there to greet
her if she were.

Traveling through space in an aircraft built by humans and machines (also built
by humans), never ceases to tap into my reverie reserve. Picture a silo so full
with grain that opening the door would cause a release of pressure usually
reserved for uncorking champagne. Flying is my equivalent of opening the silo's
door. My psyche is flooded by dreams, fantasies and pure emotional intoxication.
It’s as if the impending altitude sparks my cerebral inferno.

My wish has finally been granted. I will never forget this moment forged with
the meticulous inscription that only pure emotion can permanently tattoo.
Sacred in my heart as the lost Catacombs of ancient to any self respecting
archeologist. My find is more beautiful than all 7 wonders and certainly has
taught me a lot more.

The click of our gaze was audible above all the threatening car towing
announcements and flight arrivals. This is my fantasy and I choose to first
notice her curls. Her curls elegant and full of bounce. The natural kind. Not
crispy and chemically laden. Each ring swirl of hair perfectly flowing and never
vying for the space of its neighbor. Her effortless gait urging each lock forward 
and then behind like the perfect march of the trained soldier. The end strands 
lay slightly curled, resting as though catatonic but always aware.

It was evening and she was here. Amazingly so was I. Thoughts of my hands
traveling twister like through her hair were suddenly interrupted. It was my
fantasy with nary a word being said. Our communication always beyond words. Our
eyes shimmering phrases back n forth. Our smiles twitching with words which only
the heart could decipher. I wanted our tongues to dance in a sing song like
manner, saying things only we could understand. Speaking a language long
forgotten. A language so simple, but buried until we lovingly resurrected it.

This is not a time for words as words cannot be spoken when time holds still.
This is a time where confusion dries up. She is the sun and I all her planets.
Her blinding rays keeping me at distance, yet my pupils unwavering. I cannot
look away. For my precious sun will eventually set and I will still shine,
casting back reflections, giving back to her these rays I have soulfully absorbed.
Finally, returning my soul to bind with hers the fit is of course perfect. The
other half of the jagged heart finally clicking into place.

My ears open before my eyes and I hear "sorry for the delay ladies and
gentleman, we are number one for departure". My fantasy will come true I think
to myself....just not today.

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Ode To Peace

Dec. 1st, 2006 | 09:59 am

Various forms of knowledge are instantaneous while other kinds require constant memorization and understanding. Some knowledge is innate and others are learned over time. Our knowledge of self is often plagued by confusion and doubt, while other times it is conclusive as the dropping of glass.

Stepping into an unfamiliar shower, one knows instantly if the pressure is great or will each and every trickle of water be like the savoring last droplets in an alcoholics wine glass. Balance your check book and you know immediately if you will be eating out over the next few weeks. Touch a person you love and you know the warmth and sensational feeling each will experience. This knowledge is concrete.

Inner peace comes and goes. It waxes and wanes like the beautiful shimmer of the moons glow over water as the cycle culminates. Can this peace be constant? Can spiritual energy, happiness, work or love, change this state of mind, or is it an innate gift of personality which only those genetically wired in the peace department understand. Perhaps there is no need for their understanding as it is a constant. A mere fact not to be interpreted in any way but the most obvious. Requiring no thought. Like watching the trained acrobat soaring across a void only to reach out with pinpoint accuracy and grab hold of the waiting roped ladder.

Those peaceful feelings, which wash over us with such peaceful intensity are how some always feel. Some cling, grasp and try not to let go, but peace sometimes dissipates. A car with the broken exhaust speeds ahead and we're left with lingering fumes. Opening the window allows quicker escape but also presents the risk of further exposure by another faulty machine. This never-ending struggle of finding clean air is how it is for some, while others cruise thru the dark murk and mire with their air on recirculate. Always having their current environment steady and smog free.

There is the peace of decision making which only becomes artificial when we
change that decision. There is peace of surrender. Accepting the fate which we choose to be a part of. Even if that fate could be renegotiated were we able to repeat. I met a man broken and worn. His life partner strong without giving. Self-seeking and self-absorbed as only the detached can be. Yet, his eyes shone bright at his peaceful acceptance and his job as man of her house.

Peace can be got in forms gnarled or seductive. True peace is inborn but its rewards are diminished. The battle wages strong and in seeking ye shall find, utopia is near now reach out and grab it.

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Mesh a Sketch

Oct. 4th, 2006 | 04:51 pm

Some find water tranquil. Some can gaze at it incessantly, embracing the sound and slightly pungent smell of spawning. The crushing of waves upon the shore interests me as much as salsaless tortillas. The joggers shoeprints, etched into sand, will soon be yet a footstep in time as the next surge brushes it away. Painting what will now be a new slate. Ready for its next ambitious runner, only to repeat this shake of the Etch a Sketch as reliable as the waning moon. The buxom curvaceousness of each wave-roll which hisses as it stretches out to mate with serenity and the waters of yonder.

I look but do not see. I hear but do not listen. This ocean inside me has waves far more turbulent, yet the rising tide washes away little. I embrace the tepid waters, still connected through umbilical need. The anger of the current, with colors matching my pale eyes, leaves me feeling understood. This mirrored ocean, so unselfish that it allows me to look without gazing back, is my reminder. This watery reality of dominance which usurps most our world leaves me cleansed. My reality remains turbulent. My ocean does not drown nor does it erase. I am my very own Mesh a Sketch.

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Purple Feelings

Sep. 29th, 2006 | 04:31 am

It's difficult to speak and write about things which I do not understand. Some say speaking of them brings clarity. For me, it brings more confusion as the dumbfoundedness of the listener aids in furthering my confusion.

I'm a feeling person by nature. I feel things. I feel people. I feel emotion and I feel pain. Not physically though. It is simply put a feeling. I make decisions based on feeling and decide to befriend someone on a feeling. I predict, know and interpret things all from feeling them. I'm usually right too. When I am wrong it is not my feelings which are wrong but rather the circumstance.

There are thousands of examples and many are uncanny. Can it simply be this heightened sense of awareness or do I cling to that so as to seem normal. I've never seen alien abductions, rarely remember dreams and I don't believe in the supernatural. How is it then, that 80% of the time, when a person pops into my mind I receive a phone call or email within minutes and more often within seconds. When I begin dialing someone's #, seven out of ten times they say they were just thinking of me. Is my call list so small or am I just a huge part of people's minds. Is it possible for there to be some kind of cerebral super highway which sends messages back n forth unbeknownst to us?

I was typing an email today to a person I haven't spoken with in a while. The email would consist of one word with a question mark. Simple. A nanosecond before I could hit send they pop up onto my screen and ask me the identical question. This happens a lot.

I've decided all this psychic stuff is untrue. It is merely a coincidence. I will say that some people are connector feeling people and they communicate through feeling more than through verbal dialogue. Some people need the verbal repertoire. It is simply a matter of internal programming. Dogs can be trained to smell bombs and sniff out drugs while humans can be trained to focus their abilities and expand upon what they have. Not add to it but expand and become aware. For some it happens naturally while for others it lies dormant.

I think my telecommunicative feelers are broken from my bad head and chest cold. I have been sending telepathic messages to everyone for a hot soup delivery and to come fold my laundry but not a single offer has come in.

Yes, I am certainly a feeler and right now I feel like crap!

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The age of reason

Sep. 29th, 2006 | 03:22 am

I’m getting older. I really feel it. Not physically though. I’m still in shape, no wrinkles, and you’d get your hand stuck running it through my hair.

I feel my age by my relaxedness. By my mellowness. Things that used to bother me no longer do. People who I found annoying still annoy me but I don’t feel that burning need to inform them how annoying they truly are. People’s weaknesses and insecurities no longer irk me. I still see them but I also see someone who can get past them. I see hope and life. I see beauty.

I used to love being controversial and engage anyone in debate. I enjoy it still but now do it more for intellectual reasons rather than just for the sake of winning or pulverizing someone’s self-esteem. I used to focus on how different I might be compared to “typical folk” and now the simplicity I see in others I see in myself.

I like getting older. It’s peaceful and free. Shame I had to get older in order to see. The regrets I thought would plague me do not. Eventually, with dimming vision I am sure will come further clarity and peace. All I ever wanted was-peace.

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Test

Sep. 28th, 2006 | 03:42 pm

My first test of the new year and I partially failed. It happened at the airport. I pride myself on being able to select the most charmable ticketing agent who will allow my overweight luggage to pass without fuss or charge. This time an agent was selected for me by the director of check-in counter traffic. I was one counter off from the woman who I think would have allowed me to park my car in economy class. Instead, I got Miss Frau Grumpenstein.

After making me rearrange my luggage she still charged me overweight. She then weighed my carry-on and made me check that in as well. She listened not to my cries that Samsonite deemed this carry-on worthy.

With only a pack of gum in my pocket, some tissues and my wallet, I sulked my way through passport control and security. Navigating my way through the huge terminal I finally found my gate. To my great chagrin there was another whole security checkpoint exclusively for US bound travelers. The restrictions included any liquids or what they interpreted as liquids. This included stick deodorant and toothpaste. I found this out when the girl in front of me had her perfume, lip gloss and cold sore med confiscated.

Had my carry-on been allowed to travel with me I would have had to surrender $400 plus worth of duty free expensive scotch.

I was then able to thank G-d for giving me Frau Bitch at counter 326.

In retrospect I should have said "This too is for the best". I said it late. But I said it. Unlike with humans too little a little late works just fine for G-d. We should try to emulate that. Out with too little, too late and in with better late then never.

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Babi Yar 65 Years Ago (Sept 29, 1941)

Sep. 28th, 2006 | 12:40 pm

This was a new experience for me. I've been to many countries. The few words I speak coupled with the locals scant English and hand gesticulations usually make for modicum conversation.

Not this time. I spoke a few words and he spoke zilch. I tried explaining what the English version was of the words I spoke in his language to no avail. He was getting it less than a cheap shrink. Reminded me of those bad dates where things in common end with our heritage. I used to attempt to fill that silence with words or aimless drivel. Now I let the silence dangle like a hangman’s noose.

Two and a half hours in the car(which turned into 4 hours due to his directional ineptness). No music. Dark roads. Bit of a chill in the air and my head dancing about piñata style trying to stay awake but exhaustion winning this battle. I felt like a life size dashboard bobble head doll of myself. An unexpected stop on the side of a lightless road brought our first common words to light. Pee-pee. My verbal Alcatraz ends with some commonality in the bathroom department.

Amidst my human head bobbing I was able to ponder where I was going. Heading to one of the least known saddest places this world has ever known. Heading to a place named so for its original name. De facto causing this name to forever be synonymous with the likes of Auschwitz, Dachau, and so many other names which past events have turned formerly innocuous sounding cities into death associations.

BABI YAR. The location is central Kiev. Aptly named for the park which it resides on. Had the atrocities been in Bryant Park it would have been named as such. While the true facts only surfaced many years after the events took place, the details are more gruesome than even writing could portray. While some know of this place few know all the details. Sadly, the real number of Jews killed in so short a period is unknown. The Nazis machine-gunned down the crowd, killing at least 33,771 over 48 hours, according to records kept by the executioners. Many say that those numbers provided by those who did the killing is grossly understated. Evidence shows that more than 100,000 Jews were murdered there, not 33,771 as claimed in the Nazi report.

It is said, for more than 30 years after the massacre, when heavy rains hit Kiev, bones would float to the surface and careen down local streets with alacrity.

To speak of the details would take volumes as now most of what happened has been revealed by the few survivors, local witnesses and the perpetrators. Why this place doesn't get the recognition so important I do not know. Only a few years ago was a small monument of a Menorah placed near the site. The actual site of the ravine where the bodies were lined up, shot and free-fell is unmarked and without proper pictures and knowledge of the location practically unrecognizable.

While gazing down into this pit of death, from atop a hill off to the left, in the distance one can see a soccer field. Just before that field is a ravine overgrown and untouched. This ravine holds the precious burial ground of tens of thousands of Jews who were killed simply because of heritage and greed.

The emotions one feels standing there are just not limited to tears and a heavy heart. This is a place where one can actually feel their soul. The feeling is as close to out of body as one can get without actually being out of body. There's an obvious connection with the martyred. There's this tingle of awareness everywhere. The intensity of so many emotions swarming over body and soul creates an experience which I have yet to be able to place into words.

I have had the sadly unfortunate yet humble privilege of standing at this holy site four times. Each year I compile a list of those in need. Whether it's for health, sustenance, help finding one's mate or happiness. Throwing that paper smudged with tears to lay beside this holy site knowing there are thousand of souls living there, is a moment of speechless hope. How could G-d refuse such a messenger?! I know He cannot.

Hopefully the blood of their enemies have been avenged. I pray these beautiful souls pray for all of Israel. I leave Babi Yar each year with the same words lingering on my parched trembling lips. "Brothers and Sisters, I hope to meet you all soon in a better time when the name of the Messiah becomes known and the Lord shines His splendor upon us. Please pray for us. You cannot be refused".

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Biblically Healthy

Sep. 19th, 2006 | 01:25 pm

I accomplished something today. Something huge. Something big and personal and I feel really great about it. I feel almost reborn but not quite sure how that would feel. Imagine I can feel this way daily. I mean, when I went to sleep last night there was a 50/50 chance of my waking up. Shouldn't I feel reborn daily? The answer is an obvious no. We awake or sleep and it happens as part of nature’s cycle. What I accomplish is all me. Of course G-d has a pretty large part but not mom or dad and definitely not you.

I'm celebrating. I'm celebrating by eating really gross oily but tasty food and also waiting on hold to find out the full extent of my day's toil. Waiting on hold is tough for me. Not nearly as frustrating as waiting in traffic but it's up there. I occupy my time writing and searching online for new self diagnosing maladies. We all go through that post adolescent stage thinking we're smarter and deeper than anyone who lived before us and likely after. Part of that stage often attributed ADD or ADHD as explanation or justification of certain habits and behavior. Some of us eventually outgrow the futileness of that and move to a healthier stage.

Today I have given myself a new official diagnosis. I am biblically healthy. I wasn't sure at first. I doubted myself. I have not been tested yet but I am sure the tests will confirm my BH+ (biblically healthy positive) status.

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The Night Hamsa Met Jesus (50% fiction)

Sep. 17th, 2006 | 03:13 pm

Amulets have an element of the mystical, spookiness and the unknown. Wearing around one's neck an inscription written in ink or sometimes blood is commonplace. Warding off demons outside and oftentimes cerebral demons is its intention. Bringing the wearer good fortune, money and even happiness. Witchcraft, Magic, Necromancy and Kabala are all forms of the unknown which trace their roots back to the beginning of time and perhaps proceeding time or even the nomenclature for time itself. The ancient Egyptian blue and of course the Kabalistic Red have become recent fashionable forms of warding off the evil spirit. Hieroglyphics symbols speak volumes of a world lost. Hebraic symbols speak of heritage, suffering and a time which will be.

I went out mingling and saw her. Her simple manner, lack of makeup, natural and easy way about her told me four or five more vodka cranberries might give me the motivation needed to walk up and use my snappy new pickup line. I've been rehearsing it for a while so I was confident it would flow like the levees. Of course there was that momentary doubt. After all, females are far more intimidating than my reflection in the mirror usually in pajamas whilst brushing my teeth saying the line I coined trying not to laugh and give a fresh coat of vanilla minty spackle on my mirror.

Hi, you really don't look familiar but my name's dreadlock rasta (name change). Could that have been my line I wondered to myself almost aloud. She must have heard my momentary catatonic remoteness and responded that I don't look familiar either. I had my opening. My mouth almost began to move but for once it wasn't my brain which stopped me, rather my eyes. Time to kick into phase two of dummies guide to picking up women way out of your league. Phase two is the most crucial of the twenty seven phase process. My eyes got stuck. Could it be? Could she be wearing it? My great grandmothers priceless family heirloom around her neck? That would make for some cool serendipity but what caught me was her wearing a Cross AND Hamsa. Together. Of course I asked the next natural question. Do they get along? Now picture strange dude walking up to strange girl gazing at her blasphemous array of necklace and before even giving a handshake or peck on the cheek gazing at what she probably figured was her chest and asking "do they get along". With a smile that said she'll let me buy her at least one drink, she said excuse me? I quickly explain my faux pas and she giggled in delight.

I failed to mention this was a Jewish only mingling event. While walking to the bar I could feel the prying eyes wondering if I've finally succumbed. Has the Shiktza appeal and single despondency become so overwhelming that I've decided to give in. Perfect timing too with Holidays approaching. None too smoothly I get a knudge (silent k) from a friend who whispers screamingly "she's wearing a cross" which I responded in passing "hamsa too".

We sat and spoke.....Sorry hun, but you do realize you're not Jewish. She realized. Why did you come to this mingle? I'm sort of Jewish. Basically, the hamsa-cross neck dressing was her showing both identities. This gal knew about as much about Judaism as I know about snake wrangling and picking up women. I explained the all important value of women in creating a Yid and delicately explained that poppa no matter how many times circumcised could not create a Jew with a non. I used my cleverest ice cream analogy. The one mixing vanilla with the chocolate. It's a great analogy. When I explain the menstruation separation cycle I throw strawberry ice cream into the mix and all is understood.

I wondered if it was blasphemous to wear both. Is it an insult? Should I call the Sefardic Mujahadeen and have them bean her with bakhlava or would this be an operation for the Misnaged International Liderhoisen Flinging Squad. I decided to forget religion and pluck my eyes and morals away from this dangling contradiction and have a drink with a gorgeous girl. Drinks went well and we even got invited to a birthday party.

I doubt I'll see Hamsa girl again (aside for tonight at a bbq), but I did contemplate the issue of can the cross and hamsa dangle happily around a persons neck. Can this lone girl demolish any Christ Crucifixion animosity by showing the harmonious deity entwined with the hamsa hand.

In the next installment of Trois Singes I will attempt to erudite one of the greatest misnomerly mistakes in history. I will show how Jesus and the Cross have nothing in common.

>>>Trois Singes

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