"Because I am totally nuts, but I can make it sound reasonably like a joke. It might even be a joke? I can't even tell myself anymore."
Like an alcoholic I feel like saying, "It's after Yom Kippur somewhere", as I crack open my spirit once again. Maybe I should stop. I've had over thirty Yom Kippurs already and I need to drive home.
How come the people I love most trigger me to behave so bad? What oh-so-sensitive buttons are these relationships pushing?
I have yet to find an answer. But I want to try.
I need you for my starry-eyed revolution, my sexy insurrection.
I am talking about a desirous uprising.
Who will join my love-army of Cosmic Carrots?
Listen: let my whisper part the veil, penetrate the matrixed basement membrane, cross the blood-brain barrier, enter your most...
From the time Evan left until college I never felt truly secure with friends. The years in between were filled with anger, loneliness, and an inability to feel close to anyone, until I met Simcha. Suddenly it occurred to me that I could try mixing my art with my religion.
You’re only psychologically tricking yourself into artificial empathy that will get you nowhere.
I was born to Jewish parents, and that makes me a Jew by anyone's standards, Reform or Orthodox. That means I will always be a minority, an outsider, and anxious about G0d.
One of my friends at work just moved into a new apartment. It's not in a Jewish area, but the landlord is -- you guessed it -- a Hasidic Jew.