Strange night-o-frolic...

Cold and alcoholic...


So, back to friendster...

A few weeks back I got "friendstered" by someone I hadn't seen in years, a guy named Josh. From the old neighborhood. Which was fine...

And then I "friendstered" his brother Nate, who asked me to come out... to watch them both spin records in Charm City, at a sweet little place called Shorty's.

Nate promised that it would be both "chill" and "old skool."

He didn't lie! It was totally chill and old skool...

So old skool that the night ended with a crowd of people reminiscing about Roland Park, ps#233. Go RAMS!!! We were all joking about dorky kids and slutty kids and awful teachers. Fond memories of the urban public schools...

About how it never occured to us that in some schools, there was TP in the bathrooms, and that the stalls had doors.

Remember Ms. Conway, the French teacher who only spoke Spanish? Remember how the teachers used to sell frozen Koolaid in paper cups for some easy cash on the side? Remember, Home-slice?

Pretty wonderful.

And then another old neighborhood friend told me that if I weren't getting married he would really like me. He said I was pretty. He said "It's cool how you don't ever have an agenda."

Bless his heart! I can't think of a nicer compliment.

And then we all danced the night away. Old Skool. Doodoo Brown. Boom...

I got yer boyfriend.

So much has happened...

As it does...


Where do you start... when ample time has passed?

In the last few weeks I've... bought a wedding dress, made latkes, gone to mass, hot-tubbed, read many books, had meetings with editors, hugged my sister, noshed on good bagels, chatted with old old old family friends until 2 am, slept on couches, ridden subways, looked at "home" with new (always new) eyes, bought too many presents, run out of money, lit candles, gotten my hair cut by Tomo (who spoke no English), eaten Dominican, Mexican, Thai, Indian and French, researched Freak Shows, let my email sit for days on end (which NEVER happens), seen good bands in Brooklyn, signed onto my Dad's safe deposit box, taken my mom to the airport, taken Chris to the airport, fought, prayed, worn big hoop earrings for the first time in ten years, watched three movies in theaters and about 10 on video, made new friends, drunk wine, drunk beer, drunk whiskey, drunk juice, drunk tea, drunk coffee, slept a ton, been jealous, felt fat, lost my temper, controlled my temper, done the dishes, apologized, listened to my mother, etc. etc. etc.

Been a good vacation, but now, home for the holidays, I'm missing my other home. I'm missing Dave and Hassle and my own messy house and yard in Iowa.

Chris was here for a few days, and at some point we were passing Herring Run Park (near my Dad's house) and the resevoir, and I said, "If we ever live in Baltimore I'd like to live in one of THOSE rowhouses on the res."

And Chris laughed.

I said "What?"

He laughed again and snickered, "You are totally delusional about the rowhouses!"

I harumphed.

Later, when we got home, I curled up next to him and said, "I guess I AM a little delusional about the rowhouses, but I don't care. It's Baltimore."

And he nodded.

He said, "Yeah, it's okay. I'm the same way about Coralville."

Which he is.

The Coralville where Chris grew up... was a small town near Iowa City. There were fields there, and creeks and parks and houses.

But then they built a mall, and now it's a hugely congested strip of muffler shops and TGIFridays and car washes and Dunkin Donuts. Parking lots. And new developments.

Which is the opposite of my home.

Baltimore is a place where all the businesses are dying and the houses are being left. Increasingly so, unless you're in one of the gentrifying areas my generation is adopting and restoring(Hampden, Charles Village, Canton, etc.) It's getting emptier, more LEFT.

An interesting idea.... how I refuse to see the emptiness of my home, and how Chris can't really see the infestation of his own.

Or we both see it, but prefer our memories.

But with Chris here, I could suddenly see the boarded up houses along North Avenue. I could see so many places I've shopped and eaten and walked... for the ugly abandoned buildings they've become. It was sad and honest, and it didn't change my love for this city, but I could see what outsiders see, when they aren't at the Harbor, or Cafe Hon, or the Senator, or Thames Street.

I could see a lot of trash.

But then we went to the Lex for lunch, and there was a jazz band, and we got sandwiches from Mary Mervis, and watched all the people, and Dad told us about how the West Market dates back to the Jim Crow days.

And Chris said, "I like Lexington Market."

Which made me feel all warm and good, especially since I was full of corned beef. Even though I know, as we make our Vegas plans, that he'll never want to live in my row house.

So we're still looking for someplace in the middle. Someplace full of people, but not bursting with them. Someplace where the stores aren't boarded up, but they also aren't corporate malls.

Someplace where plenty is more than enough.

Bad...

Blogger...


Bad Bad BAD BLOGGER!

I promise I'll be back soon. I'm Easterly, caught in a swirl of things and stuff... and family.


Happy sixth night, and happy XMAS EVE....

Soon, and love.

I'm letting the cat out...

Of the bag...

That secret I mentioned a few weeks ago? It's a doozy.

I'm having a bachelorette party, at the Owl Bar, where my Baba used to drink his martinis, within the wood-panelled walls of the Belvedere Hotel, in Charm City.

Which is to say that... YES, I'm getting married. On my birthday. Jan 12th.

I'll be wife-ishy now too.

But no. You aren't invited.

Because I'm running away.

Cantaloupe?
Like Hell we can't!!!!!

I'll be doing the deal in Vagas, baby! At the Viva Las Vegas Wedding Chapel.

Believe, hon!

And I'm so so so happy! About so many things. And now this. This! THIS!!!

But nope... I know what you're thinking, and I'm (we're) not pregnant.

Not yet anyway.

That'll be the next secret.

You have to save something for your thirties...

Day 3...

Over the hump...


One thing I've noticed about Hillel is the questions... such amazing questions, inspiring and provoking and curious and profane and ubiquitous...

but even more importantly... the astounding APPRECIATION of those amazing questions. The prominance placed on questioning/asking/provoking.

I cannot think of any other place I've been where, at the end of a panel or conversation or lecture, people run up to each other and say,

"That was such a good question!"

or

"Mazel Tov on your marvelous question!"

It's like the questions are more important than the subjects, because the dialogue/process is more important than any possible resolution. Pretty cool.

I think this must be a Jewishy theme, and I just never noticed it until now. Has anyone read Jabes? The Book of Questions? And then there's four questions at Pesach. Are there more? I love it.

Unfortunately, HILLEL could take a formal lesson from this informal exchange, and open/loosen the actual programming a bit. Because the lectures are full of official positions and platitudes, as corporate/organizations are want to be.

But behind closed doors, the questions are flying freely.

Watch out!!!

Actually...

This is pretty cool.

I've attended three panels today (now, well rested, it's not TOO surreal) and they've been pretty friggin KEWL!

First I went to a panel on the new Mel Gibson (PASSION) flick, and how to approach it on campus, and it turned out that the speaker was ROSANNE CATALANO, one of the most amazing ladies I know. She runs a group called the Institute of Jewish-Christian Studies. A friend of my mom's from church!

Then I attended a conversation on Midrashim in art, by the coolest rabbi I've met in years, Hyim Shafner. So dang smart. So much like poetry. I wanted to go to school, sitting there and discussing the many meanings for the Hebrew word for laughter. So fun.

And then I bumbled along to the Interfaith Panel, which rocked my world. I was introduced to the Interfaith Outreach Group, which is what I want to do when I grow up. Who knew?

So all in all, this is a good thing, this Hillel conference.

We'll have to find out next week just how many people I've offended.

It turns out, "wronghalf Jew" is a bad word. It turns out, the Jewish community is not quite as excited about Chrisma-kah as I am

Eh!

I can barely...

Type...

Because I've had no sleep for two days and I'm wearing "dress casual," but I have to report the surreal experience I'm having...

here at the Hillel annual conference!

Right now (I swear to G-d) Dr. Ruth (the one and only)is talking about her experiences in 1939, when she was deported to Switzerland, and about how she then moved to Palestine, joined the Hagganah, lived on a kibbutz, etc. etc.

And about sex too.

Meanwhile, a kid covered in shaving cream is running around with a mic, while another kid, dressed as a Hassid, holds up posterboard.

Seriously.

I'm way WAY too tired to have any idea what is happening here. Some jargon. Some good stuff. Some wonderful folks.

But Yow-ZA!

On a more serious note...

Something to ponder...

For the last few days, I've been posting about some pretty fluffy stuff... babies and middle-eastern crises and such.

But today, while surfing around, I wandered into a site that I feel really demands our attention, a CAUSE worthy of a few moments.

Pay Infozo a visit.

Back before he got all super-high-tech, before he switched camps and became obsessed with small matters of life, death, and the Dewey Decimal System, he CARED, really cared about those who cannot speak for themselves. He put himself OUT THERE for the little guy.

Then he sold out, was lured away from his true cause, by the mouth watering, corporate, high rolling worlds of death-penalty-opposition and library science.

Like so many before him.

Take a gander here and then here. See for yourself how he's forgotten his cause. It's sad, really.

On having a baby...

And losing your self...

I was just reading the Times, and there was an article that said, among other things,

Mr. Yevtushenko's lectures are scattershot combinations of recollection and observation, punctuated by readings of poems during which he prowls the room and, in the words of one student, "gets right in your face." At Monday's poetry class he warned his students of a great danger they may soon face.

"For many people the first diapers of their babies are the white flags that symbolize their surrender," he said. "Don't be like that. You can fight for all your principles and for your children too."

Which is interesting, and a subject much on my mind. I think Yevtushenko puts it well (even if he does sound a little heavy-handed) with his diaper/surrender metaphor.

You see, I want to have a baby. I really really really want to make a tiny Nora Rose. But I'm very aware that if I do this thing, make this baby, that I'll have to work even harder not to let my conscience become buried. Right now, I can see it, at the bottom of a pile of friends and desires and aesthetics. It's lying beneath poems and records and dog-walking and fucking casseroles and treadmills. It's buried under my life.

And the longer my life is, and the more full and wonderful my life becomes, the less regulalarly (and carefully) I check in with my conscience.

So I think it's a good warning, a good intention-alert, care-control. If you're going to be a parent... try not to fly into automatic pilot.

Like this:


The Pregnant

The pregnant
woman looks down,

traces herself
with swollen fingers, sighs:

“I can’t anymore—hide
the sponge that I am

from the baby
I’m becoming.”





Like that.

So many things I don't understand...

And also, it's snowing...

Today I'm thinking about Israel. Because about a week ago, there was a powerful piece on NPR, an interview with a man who has appointed himself the task of running around in the West Bank, keeping tabs on settlements. That's what he does, runs around the West bank, pretending to be a construction worker/settler, interviewing other construction workers/settlers.

Then he takes his notes to governments, to the world. He brings his notes to us, and he tries to convince us that the construction continues. Brave man. A little loopy, and a liar, but brave and full of conviction.

(And hell, he's right! 61 new illegal settlements have been built under Sharon's watch. 61! Every year, Israel allocates 556 MILLION for incentives, so that people will continue to live in the west Bank!)

Of course, the first thing I thought was, "Wow, my life is lazy and full of sloth. I should do something IMPORTANT. I should feel strongly enough about ANYTHING to live like THAT GUY! I should go run around and take notes too."

And then I thought, "Jeeze, I wish some of my Hillel kids could hear this segment."

And then I thought about something else, though now I can't remember what. Nothing meaningful. Probably I stopped at the grocery store to get some dish soap or something... and Israel slipped quietly from my sieve.

But then today, I got an email from Americans for Peace Now, and Israel popped back into my mind.

I don't know much, and I certainly can't solve the crisis. But I really don't see how anyone can, at this point, after so many deaths, deny that the end result WILL BE 2 states. There will HAVE TO BE two states. And we (Israel and the US) will HAVE TO HELP build Palestine. And the settlers will HAVE TO get the fuck out of settlements like Givat Tamar.

But at the same time, the radical/left community will HAVE TO fucking wake up and realize that Israel is a country, and that, like the US, it is a good country full of good people, no matter how shitty the current administration happens to be. No matter how ignorant religious radicals seem, or how loud they shout. Israel is a beautiful country, and I love it. Suggesting that Israel should cease to exist is just ridiculous! Israel is a country, like ours. Too much like ours in many ways.

But for all its faults, Israel also happens to be a functioning democracy in a part of the world where many countries regularly commit far worse human rights violations. And in Israel, a Palestinian can bring an Israeli to court, and win. It happens sometimes. But not in Syria, or Lebanon. Not in Iran.

I love Israel. I lived there and I wanted to make Aliyah for awhile. Truly. It's an amazing land full of history and soul, for all its blood and guts. For all its faults and follies. And life there is intense and heavy and bright and hot and beautiful. I feel for Israel all the time, and while I don't like the connotations of the word "Zionist," I suppose I am one. I'm a Zionist who hates the occupation. I'm a Zionist who wants to see two states with good health care and education. I'm a Zionist who hopes to someday visit the International City of Jerusalem.

One little story, for the holidays...

The year I lived in haifa, I spent Christmas in Bethlehem, in the West bank.

I went to the Mlk Gotto, and to Manger square. I visited Rachel's grave. I prayed, and ate shwarma.

And everywhere there were colored Christmas lights, and men selling popcorn, and nuns, and lots of beer, and singing in many languages. It was one of the most memorable nights of my life. So bright.

The Mass was heavy and sacred, while all around me the world was swirling, wimples and cigarette smoke and incense and exhust fumes and all. It was beautiful. It was like a giant animal with very colorful fur. it was organic and loud and the people were packed so tightly, and all moving. I wish I had a picture.

And there was this one guy... on the corner near me, blitzed out of his mind, and laughing and shouting and smiling so BIG. So full of joy. I stared at him, and he just kept smiling, and I smiled back...

And it took me a while to look down and realize that he was holding his dick in his hand. And for a minute I was scared of him. Because sex. You know... what men do with their dicks.

But then he started to pee.

There he was, waving his dick around in the air, shooting his sour piss like it was fireworks. Laughing and smiling.

And really, it was pretty incredible. It made me happy.

Not everything makes sense. Which is all I really know about the West bank.



I mean, c'mon people...

The glamorous life...

Of an Iowa gal...

Now, in general I try not to rub salt in the wounds of my readers. I mean, it's true that I DO live in the Athens of the Midwest, and it's also true that I DO have the greatest dog on the planet. And moreover, it's true that I DO have the greatest friends known to anyone.

But in general, I try not to be one of those bloggers who namedrops about the fancy parties and clubs, interesting travel, fabulous clothes, fascinating jobs, and altogether exciting life of a blogger.

BUT!

Right now I'm doing something super neat. Right now I have a new set of tasks and experiences... and I'm mixing those experiences into the usual kettle of dog-walking, Shabbat-making, and chatting on the phone. And I want to tell you...


that I'm helping some friends of mine to make a MOVIE!

All week we've been holding auditions, and callbacks are this weekend, and it's totally EXCITING and ABSORBING.

And it makes me realize the importance of doing something NEW every once in awhile. Truly! Because suddenly my brain is filled with new thoughts, new ideas about writing, new ways of processing information, new perspectives on image and dialogue.

Suddenly I'm thinking of the NARRATIVE as a new kind of linked-image-collage.

And that is reviving my own interest in old things. Suddenly I want to dig out a failed story and try to write a screenplay. Suddenly I'm seeing the street (as I walk down it) as though it were a set for a movie. I'm framing the people I encounter as though they were scenery.

Very interesting.

So I want to say thanks to Josh and Mike, for letting me be a part of this experience. And I want to tell everyone to go out there today and do something you've never done or thought to do. Wow!

One small step for the WB...

One giant leap for inbetweenish folks everywhere...

Chrisma-kah!

In case you're one of the 17 American's who doesn't watch THE O.C. I'll explain that there is now a program on prime-time...

that centers around a family, the Cohens...

in which Daddy is a member of the tribe, and mommy is a goyische-girl (of the high-powered-wealthy-So-Cal variety)...

and on last night's episode they celebrated Chrisma-kah, which warmed the cockles of my little Jewishy-Irishy heart.

So go ahead!

Mix up some egg-nog, fry up some hash-browns, cover a tree in dreidls, and try not to feel too weird when your mom's Christmas open-house conflicts with the first night of Chanukah.

It's Chrisma-kah, the season of greasy cheer!

Chris...

It occurs to me now that many of you have never been blessed to meet Chris.

And several of you have asked to see pics of him, but until recently, there was no image online.

So now introducing, CHRIS!

He's the one making the record at the computer. I'm the one on the floor. Mindy and Dave the Dog are the ones on the couch.

In the basement.

Baltimore comes to Iowa...

In more ways than one...

Last night, my dad told me he'd just applied to teach at a school about 20 minutes from Iowa City, and of course he stated over and over that he isn't likely to get the job, but still!

That would change my life here so much... to have family in town, to daven with my daddy, to cook him the occasional dinner, to walk Dave the Dog with him... it would be amazing. Baltimore coming home to me.

And then today, at work, I BOOKED FRIGGIN JOHN WATERS. He's coming to Iowa on March 3rd, and Hillel will be hosting, "A Tasteless Evening." With fried chicken and pie shakes and Baltimore...


Coming home to me, here, in Iowa.


Pretty cool!

The secret game...

I have a secret, a BIG one...

I can't tell you what it is, but you can guess.
Go ahead and guess!

Email me your guess, and if you're right...
I'll tell you, "You're right!"

And then you can be in my super-secret club,
and I'll send you a certificate of authenticity.

If your guess is too vage, I'll simply reply,
"redefine" and you'll have to narrow your guess.

But if you narrow it wrong,
I'll reply, "Go directly to jail. Do not pass go."

How's that?