I’m leaving Santa Monica. Just confirmed with the flatmate. On the eve of possibly securing a job in an agency. Yum. Only recently have I grown close with my neighbors.  Israelites. He’s a furniture maker, they’ve got great kids, and he smokes. He’s got a lot to teach, and they’re fucking amazing parents.

Laughing the other day, like never before. I’m working on a company re-brand for an agency, a sort of trial run to see if I can cut it.  One of those moments that are few and far between – (if you think about that phrase, that makes SO much sense 🙂 clarity. It wasn’t an out of body experience, but my vision and perspective had shifted outwards. I was, for a few minutes, able to observe myself as an outsider, examining where I was it, what I was doing. 24, thinking creatively, branding an eco-friendly company, with zero experience.  I realized that that’s exactly what I wanted, years and years ago. I swear. I saw myself doing this, no, merely wished I’d be doing stuff like this – and there it fell, right into my lap, a gift, my narrow minded self not paying attention.  It was hysterical.  How often are we so focused on the now, living mechanically, unable to see those moments of beautiful clarity.  It calmed me down instantly, seeing that what I’ve hoped for was being put in front of me. And however it pans out, it was a cherished 240 seconds.

I’ve been using sunscreen regularly. I read on Wikipedia that sunblock only prevents penetration of UVA/UBV rays. It doesn’t really protect against melanoma. Even 45. And 70. We’re all screwed. Starting with the fair-skinned, freckled, pale Jews.

Not so sure about Thailand. Gonna need to check the weather. Willing to even hold off so that I go during the down under summer. What’s the point? I guess there are more places. honestly now. you’re being evasive. What’s the real reason? I want to travel with someone, a partner, a lover. What a way to see the world. And to be with one person. For that long. You’ll either kill yourself or need to buy a wedding band in the duty free shop.

And creativity on demand is tough as hell. Mark that. But shit, I do think I am ready for this.


status. update.

it’s 3:34.

  1.  the mustache is gone. the molester look wasn’t working out.
  2. i’m applying to advertising school. so i can pay cash. and get a portfolio. and produce stuff. is it possible to teach creativity? perhaps i am unpopped kernel. ad school is the microwave.
  3. i am the king of procrastination.
  4. i want to travel. and travel i shall. new zealand. australia. thailand. join the protesters and fight the chinese in Lhasa. Dalai lama here i come. make me some lentils and i will do your bidding.
  5. i’m traveling. hence, the move out of santa monica, back to the valley, airports, planes, trains, and australians. Los Angeles, you were never mine to begin with.
  6. It’s hard to be creative on demand. never realized that.
  7. I’m listening to a lot of Cut Copy. they are the shizza and you should pandorize them. or last fm them.
  8. why did i buy all this stuff? why do i still have it?
  9. my brother gil turned 23. i made him a card with using pictures of a jewish orthodox laundromat owner. the copy: not your average hyphenated american. he laughed. i enjoyed making the card. its my zen time. tell me when your birthday is and I’ll make  you one. i just need a few magazines to chop up.
  10. it is sunny. and it stopped being so fucking windy. what is with you. the palm trees a mile away are still standing, but dancing, leaning, bending  in her graces.
  11. it’s time for us all to stop worrying and start living.
  12. that about wraps it up.

fast3r fast3r

dedication moving forward forward. the longer the road, the deeper the road. can’t you see, we’re traveling? i and i, strictly for guns, we’re traveling. moving forward. i’ve found love but can’t hold onto it. that is the curse. ahh ahh. you put the Jah, in my jump. jah real, feel my name, we’re rocking to the rugs burns of the nine to the seven to the two – time moves slower when love moves faster, but are you listening when i praise your name silently in heaven the mud crumbling from the walls when i shout your name every room is moving to mind and soul, mind and soul the beat of the handdrum calls outwith passionfruit laughing. pause. pause. feeling alright, alright. 13 minutes have passed since has passed over, soul rolled over to your white shoulder pressed against mine – the kiss of mayday and blueberries lalalas ROOTS ROOTS ROOTS staple my heart to yours wouldn’t that be nice?  my heart moves to the beat of the east when love is all there is the periphery distorts melts into itself the marriage of minds is a beautiful thing to waste the kiss of this a wonderful thing to taste love, love love, in the end there is only love for you.

when will all jah people learn? semitic man you hit just above water the blind leading the blind leading the blind leadingtheblind leadingtheblindleadingtheblind your breath is my salvation don’t stop with the roots penetrating to this love apart. hey! when you live don’t live in babylon, corrupted love rusting out without attention i’m granting, i can grant if given the chance. where are you headed? brothers sisters prepare this love feast from this day forward, from this day on , we are one people in love

mustache march // friends and allies // selling one’s soul

PhotobucketI swear that I did this independently. I didn’t join this organization and get brainwashed into growing some facial hair in that special love area between my nose and upper lip. I’m not some sheep growing a mustache, I’m just growing a mustache. Plus I don’t think that that is even physically possible – for sheep to grow mustaches. On a somehow related topic, is there a term for those strands of hair that grow on old women’s chins?

This is me after 9 days. That’s 316 hours of solid growth. The plan is to grow it out till end of time. Or March. Or Passover. Whichever comes sooner. But SERIOUSLY. I’m just trying to look like my dad. I started writing a song about it. Eventually it will require a full 72 piece orchestra. It’s pretty pretty.

Dad, dad, aren’t you glad / I hope that my ‘stache doesn’t make you sad / trying to show my Hungarian roots / If I was half panda I’d eat some bamboo shoots

Hiking abounds! I am the brushfire ninja, hiding among the power leaves and the power trees. On a scale of 1-47, one being not really that much, 25 being yes, I sort of see it, and 47 = that’s exactly what I was thinking, zounds, your powers of telepathy make me want to touch myself! HOW CLOSELY DO I RESEMBLE AN IBEX?


Winkelman. Stop being so damn intelligent. A little corruption is good for everyone. I’m sad I couldn’t make it to Austin. I should listen better. You know I have ridiculously small, elf like ears.


Hi Monkeys! I’m going to Australia! Thailand! And Lhasa! And Mollster, thanks for reading.

songs of the drummers

this is a decompression session still have I not learned the lesson but feel the need, to make this confession under oppression. choices, choices, with too many voices tearing me apart, plans for this place and that place I yearn for nothing but that sacred space of lush rainforest and beaches, songs of the drummers, mind body connected to something greater, all the while career is something safer. safer from what? i remember that song of the desert when all the troubles could vanish like this, so when did the eskimos go capitalist?

when opportunity calls, why do i perceive them as walls, shifting perspective moving to subjective, liberating entrapment.  but schooling awaits, an incubator of ideas and concepts, the vehicle to bring me to the land of the fabled carrot stick state. two step to the platform, shoes hesitant, moving swifter now, but not before the Maldives.

why work when you can live?

i’m going to post a short story im working on in a few days, and would appreciate anyone and everyone’s feedback. it’s a flash fiction piece, and i dig it. a tragic comedy. sad, but bittersweet at the same time.

interviews interviews interviews this week.

if I don’t land a job im finishing the app then heading to new zealand for a while. Its time I get me some intense UV rays. and see what the sheep are all about.

here are some options: hawaii, new zealand, australia, thailand, nepal, hong kong.

something rural. something nice. and something far far different than los angeles. couchsurfers, get those beds ready.

political nights at the round table

(cross-posted in jewlicious)

My mother, in true Sabra style, underwent a complete overhaul of the Shabbat dinner at our house a few months ago. It’s sasbich all the way, baby: hard boiled eggs, roasted eggplant, potatoes, spicy cilantro, purple cabbage, minced red onion, and amba, a spicy, pickled mango spread that makes up a percentage of any Iraqi’s bloodstream. The food has gotten lighter, but the conversation has not.

I’ve lived on farms and kibbutzim, built mudhouses in the Arava desert, and thought more than once about getting the prestigious club card. My brothers? One lived in Peru and wiped the asses of impoverished Peruvian babies; the older one is a lawyer – okay, not so hippie but he has aspirations of becoming a Zen master, by not trying to become one. Our liberal attitude never clashed with our parents’ conservative one. I think they believe it’s just a phase. But as political talk glides its way onto our table nearly every week, beliefs become more distinguished. See, my parents are great people. They’re also conservative neo-hawks who will vote for anyone as long as they support Israel and won’t hesitate to drop nukes in case shit goes deadly, think Democrats are lying, sleazy scumbags, and that Obama is a Muslim fanatic who no matter what he says, will side against the Jews. Yes, that’s our world.

“His middle name is Hussein,” they say. “He is in love with Louis Farrakhan.” And McCain? “McCain will protect Israel.” That’s cause he’s old and crazy. “Yes, yes he is. Old and crazy.”

I have been told that you have no heart if you’re young and a Democrat, but financially retarded if you’re old and still Democrat. But what gives? Do some Jews get bitten by the money mozzie at age 40 and start voting Red no matter what? I’m trying to make sense of this dynamic: are your parents like this? I can’t be the only one swimming through this rift. How do I get them to see the other side of the political story?

Either way. I’m canceling out my dad’s vote. Like a real son of a bitch.