I should be at open mike.
But I completely bombed my ability to process interviews on the first day of training camp, and ended up at work until 9 p.m., having finally finished updating the Web site to reflect the reality of my new "blog" entry, exhaustion overwhelming me save for the knowledge that eating two slices of cold pizza leftovers from lunch meant I wouldn't have to make dinner.
There remains one week for me to avoid the self-pitying punch in the nose my emotions will offer if I fail to make it to Penny's within the month's time I promised after Murdock's show a few Sundays back. This post is tired. It might be from fasting yesterday. I was a good Jew, sort of. I fasted and took the day off work and limited myself to as much non-screen activity as possible. There was a lot of reading involved: three issues of TIME, two Entertainment Weekly, two alumni newsletters, a Rolling Stone and a bunch of team/sport-related ish (when I did briefly access the interwebs). I put Playboy on the "hold" pile out of respect.
It's a funny thing, my kind of Jewish. Had female rabbis growing up, the most influential of whom was a lesbian, which means biblical literalism was pretty much out from the jump. And then they -- and others in the Reform movement -- fostered twin ideals of "choice through knowledge" and "Israel = struggle with God," with the latter meaning the natural waxing and waning of spiritual connectivity and faith were normal and to be dealt with at their own speed; not avoided or forced, but simply something to acknowledge, then process -- whatever that might mean.
I haven't been to temple in three years, unless you count my buddy's wedding in 2007 or the time in February I ran a poetry workshop for a former rabbi's confirmation class. That was on a Wednesday. In Cobble Hill. I don't think I'd ever been there before. I revisited that 'hood two weeks back for a Friday night dinner with my girl and four of her people. She's not a member of the tribe. About the Southern opposite of that - the Baptist kind.
That feels like it should matter, and it might, one day. But just because it matters doesn't mean there isn't middle ground. Quick quiz hotshot: Who's your favorite goy?
Mine's my dad.
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Arthur Verocai - Na Boca do Sol
5 hours ago
3 saw something, said something:
It becomes clear at this point that I need to wean myself off the Bravo "reality" television lineup, specifically the Millionaire Matchmaker; seeing as how my reaction to this lovely post was, "oh em gee. tbb is dating a shiska."
Seriously. Although on the for real, I did enjoy reading your thoughts about your religion. I have sort of always perceived you as a spiritual person; for me it comes through in your poetry. As a cradle Catholic, I can really relate to what you were saying about our personal struggles with religion. Werd.
Also, seemed about time I commented just to let you know that yes, I'm still reading.
Loves.
Haha ... it's true, though definitely not unprecedented. My dating life has actually leaned pretty hard toward the goys, and yet there's been more than a few notable members of the tribe.
Appreciate the read through (and comment, ha!) I connect with ... something. What that is exactly, I've never been quite able to pin down. Probably won't. But that's how it do.
Hope everything's well with you and the munchkins.
So, are gays and lesbians a no-no for Jews too? Sorry, I really don't know, that's why I asked. :D
Good to know that you put the Playboy on "hold." Haha!
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