How funny is this???

My site is the top hit if you google obscene photos!

On the lighter side...

Shanna posted THIS yesterday!!!


"With ample reverence for the Atari 2600 era, this collection of personal essays tracks the cultural and historical significance of video games. Among the highlights: Mark Lamoureux's article comparing the introduction of 3-D in games to the discovery of perspective by Renaissance painters, and Laurel Snyder's tell-all in which she admits to playing Tetris in her head while having sex. That way, she scores twice." --Shana Tang Lipton, Wired, October 2004


What is it? The first GAMERS review came in (from WIRED magazine) and the reviewer mentioned me by name! Woo-HOOOOOOOO!!!!


Been a weird week of ups and downs, between agents and national reviews, fasting and messed up canines...


And you?

When last we saw Laurel...

Her brand new (emaciated and pregnant) dog (inherited from neighbors departing for Nebraska) was about to give birth and her website was still working...


Then her website went down, and here's what happened in the interim...


Kareem appeared to be breathing heavily. So, thinking she was in labor, we trotted off to a vet. The vet took one look at her and said, "I don't know what's inside Kareem, but it isn''t puppies."


Three hours, 400 dollars, and a few X rays later, Dr. Stacy told us that her best guess was a "diaphragmatic hernia." She said Kareem had been injured at some point, knocked around so hard that her liver and intestines were shoved up into her chest cavity. She said it would be horribly expensive to fix, if it was fixable at all. She told us Kareem had 25% chance of survival, but that if she made it through surgery, she could live a long healthy life.


She told us, "Three thousand dollars!"


What would any sane person do, after inheriting a near-stray puppy from near-strange neighbors, a puppy to set them back 3000 dollars. What would any sane broke person do?


Yeah, we had the surgery. We're suckers, and maybe not sane. We allocated my insurance money from the car accident last month.


Now, we're waiting for word from the vet. We're in the "next hours are critical" phase...


Pray for little Kareem. The vet tells us pit bulls are "tough as nails."


And now for the weird part of the story. In two parts:


1. The neighbors didn't leave. In the end, J found out his parole officer wouldn't let him go. He told me this when he turned up at 8 this morning, looking to heat up his ramen noodles (all his power is out). He explained to me that if he can get someone to lie to his parole officer and say he has a job, the state of Nebraska might let him move there! I told him about Kareem, and he shrugged.


2. My boss suggested that I write a little note, drop a line to a local philanthropist who likes dogs (and shall remain nameless). I did so, and 10 minutes after I sent the email out into the aether, I got a reply. She told me she'd be happy to pay my vet bill. She told me how kind it was of us to save Kareem. She was an angel, an absolute angel... and she paid the bill. All of it.


I don't even know where/what to begin feeling. And now, tonight, we begin the season of Sukkoth, the feast of huts, of first fruits. We commemorate the years the Israelites spent wandering around in the sand, constructing temporary dwellings, never feeling grounded or safe. When the wind blew through them and they wondered if they'd ever find a home. When they depended on food that fell kindly from the sky, and subsisted on the faith it would continue to fall kindly.


Now, just as Kareem is ending her years of wandering. I'm making paper chains and building a roof of branches. I'm thinking about what it means to have a home. I'm feeling very lucky. For Kareem. I'm also praying for J.


And Kareem? We're still waiting to hear, but OH! is she proud of her new red collar!

Seeking honesty...

Some of you MUST have read for book-prize-contests over the years...


I need to know.


Is there any point in resubbing a revised manuscript to a contest?


If you were a finalist or semi-finalist?


I'm on pins and needles wondering....

Kareem...

Meet the world!!!


And world, meet KAREEM!


The newest member of my little clan...






Kareem will soon be having pups, so let me know if you want one...


Pit bull, boxer, and something randy, as yet to be determined.

Which is weirder???

That someone in England got to this website by typing in


Laurel+is+a+retard


Or that three someones got here by typing


Why can't you wear leather on Yom Kippur?


Or that someone, somewhere, actually typed


"Laurel Snyder"


?


Hmmmmmmm.......


Who are you, and why are you peeking at my petticoats?


Don't stop....

Plus and minus...

The bad news is... I'm already starving and I've only been fasting 3 hours.


The good news is... I have a fucking AGENT!!!


Location, Location (the secret project)... here we go...


And also, for those of you I've spoken to in the past... send me your Jewishy-halfishy stories, or at least drop me a line and remind me that you're a Jewishy-goyishy writer and you'd like to write something for me. Cause it looks like HALF-LIFE is going to live!!!


Jeff Sharlet! Thisbe Nissen! Lee Klein! Margaret Shwartz! I'm calling you out "write" now...


Get cracking!

This time of year...

We try to apologize.


If I owe you an I'm sorry...


I am.


This time LAST YEAR


I wrote this...


Here's a taste:

"... But I’m interested in this chest banging, this physical prayer, this rhetoric of forgiveness. So I’ve been asking around, trying to uncover the reason for this custom. It’s called the Vidui. The Vidui is said in unison, standing, during the Yom Kippur service. While we recite the Vidui, we bang our chests. Really, the Vidui is a list of sins for which we ask forgiveness, and it’s notable that the Vidui is recited in alphabetical order, from aleph to tav. Because, “Language, the very instrument used by God to create grandeur out of chaos, can be misused by us to revert the world back to chaos” (Ismar Schorsh).


Even more interesting than the alphabetization is that we say the Vidui aloud, in first person plural. We drum on our bodies and chant it as a community, because the Vidui is not a litany of individual sins, but rather a list of communal sins. Judaism recognizes that most of us haven’t committed these particular sins, but that if one of us has committed any one of them, than we are culpable and we must all ask forgiveness for the community.


For the sin we have committed in thy sight by casting off responsibility…


Check out the whole think at Killing the Buddha!!!

Weep for it...

Today was a Blake kind of day...



All dismal and scratchy and doublespoken and intense and full and full and full...



Everything felt more than it was. I could see every line.


Today it was also hard to be me, in my job.


I thought of quitting.


To be more concrete... among other things, I was told by the interfaith council I sit on that if I want to keep Jewish books in my office, which is technically an interfaith office, than I need to accept the placement of Christian objects in that office.


If I want a mezuzah I get a cross too.


Ironic for a semi-shiksa like me.


I couldn't find a way to explain the many years and decades and centuries... to describe how much it means that I am able to carve out a Jesus-free zone on campus... to, without crying (which I did) explain that a room with the Gospel of John on the shelf will NEVER be interfaithfully Jew-friendly.


That a cross is not a mezuzah, but is a symbolof what we are told we did to destroy someone's God.


Right now I'd trade places with a chimneysweep.


Weep for it.

Why it's nice to live in Iowa...

So I was walking around last night, after consuming much half-price-happy-hour sushi with Sonya (pics to come)...


And I thought, "I'll call Thisbe and Lee, see what they're up to...


But Lee was watching an athletic contest involving a ball, and he said Thisbe was at Prairie Lights for a reading...


So off I went to catch the tail end of the Dan Chaon reading and to suffer through the horrible Q&A that has to follow each reading.


Then, a bunch of us wandered next door. To Atlas.


Where I drank dirty vodka martinis for hours with Elizabeth McCracken, Edward Carey, Thisbe, Dan Chaon, a woman named Eden and her fella. Where we talked for hours about writing, the workshop, Rick Jackson (my undergrad teacher whom Edward and Elizabeth had recently seen in Prague), teaching, and all manner of fun things.

Where we answered and then forgot the answers to many important questions...

Where I found myself sighing becasue, though Iowa City has limitations of career, cheap airfares, and art films...

There is noplace else I know where you can have a night like that.


Where you can shoot the shit with Salmon Rushdie, compare spinach dip recipes.


Where Jeff Eugenides and Seamus Heaney can "happen" to be in the same bar.


Atlanta is so great, and I'm excited to go back. But man, I gotta find me some writers! Perhaps a visit to Athens is in order sooner, rather than later!

Brave new worlds...

What a way to start the new year!!!


I just sent my first "proposal" off to two agents...


And now I'm biting what nails I have left...


Wish me luck? Anyone know any secrets to success? Anyone have a magic talisman I can borrow?


Who am I, thinking I can write a "real" book?

Yom Kippur: Mebbe you don't know...

About fasting...


Here we are, heading into Yom Kippur, the Jewish Day of atonement. Based on my sitemeter referrals, large numbers of people who visited JewishyIrishy last week arrived here through a google search for "Shana Tovah" or something like it.


So I thought I'd let you know a little something Jewishly useful.


During Yom Kippur we fast. You probably know that means "no eating." But for Jews there are 5 things you can't do when you fast.


1. Eat or drink


2. Engage in "marital relations"


3. Wear leather of any kind


4. Anoint ones self


5. Wash "for pleasure"


Wash for pleasure? I find this one fascinating. More on the subject later....

So nice to be back in Ioway...

Chris' show was wonderful last night, if poorly attended. The band was faboo and Patrick Brickell, who opened, broke my heart with a song for his new 3 week old babygirl, Tula.


The wedding was lovely, though I think weddings are weird in general. So happy for Dave and Mindy. So pleased to see everyone. So confused by weddings.


Pictures to come soon.


Today I ate lunch with Miss Pieta Brown , who was, as always, a fucking adorable riot. And my chicken confit/ nasturtium/ beet salad wasn't bad either. Not quite as sexy and funny as Pieta, but delicious in its own right.


Pictures to come soon. Of salad and Miss Brown.


Now I'm at Hillel, visiting with my old boss, who is so fun.


Good times.

Wedding poem time again...

As previously stated, I end up writing a lot of "poems to be read at weddings."


It's a weird form, and hard to do actually... trying to strike a balance between honest and sweet, smart and sentimental... hard to do well without compromising my own writerliness. And also, there's a "momentary" quality to it, a precision of place, because the poem is really only meant to be read by people sharing the moment. Weird.


In any case, I thought I'd post this one, my fourth in the last 2 years. I'm thinking I should edit a little chapbook called, "Poems to read out loud at weddings if you aren't a totally cheesy idiot."


Eh?


YOU go looking for a wedding poem and see how hard it is to suit your literary conscience and the bride's grandma at the same time...


************************


A "true" love poem
~For Dave and Mindy
September 18, 2004


I


Let’s not pretend to be perfect. We are full
of loss, which is why things matter.
To begin with, there are holes in everything.


Which is why love. Which is why heavy
blankets feel good on cold nights.
Which is why we hold hands.


II


Before they loved each other, we all
knew they loved each other. We were
just waiting for them to notice. Slowly.


Their arms reached wide. The air held
its breath. One real and actual thing.
It was tangible, that love, and obvious.


It was solid, with an intricate root system.
It was the most actual thing of all, quiet.
You could hang your hat on it.


Even on the tiredest nights, through
the longest months and the barest rooms
it grew. Strong and bright and shining.


And then in the brightest moments, through
the loudest music and the smoke, Love’s voice clear.
On a different frequency, above the noise.


III


Let’s not pretend to be always good,
or selfless. Let’s confess. The truth is,
we ask a lot from love.


We say, "Love, can you toss me the keys,
loan me ten dollars?" And she does.
Sometimes if we’re honest, she does.


Because love is strong, faithful. She brings
you soup, puts gas in the car, strokes your
hand when you sleep. If you’re lucky.


Not always, but sometimes, the holes
get filled or left empty, just as they should.
Sometimes like now, like right now.

My new year started on petrol...

Which is to say...


That after working erev Rosh Hashanah services last night in a dress and shoes I bought at the Lohman's near the office because there was no time to go home and change after work...


I finally got home at 10 and packed my bags and the truck.


Then I got up today at 5 a.m. and my hubby, my puppy, my kitty and I drove like hell to flee the rain that is Ivan...


So that, 14 hours later we could be in Iowa for a wedding.


Which is what happens if you have non-Jewish friends, They plan major life events for major Jewish holidays.


And if you happen to be a poet, they ask you to read poems in their weddings.


So here we are, in Coralville, Iowa. Ready to sleep hard and spend tomorrow "rehearsing" and the following day watching Dave Olson and Mindy Ash, the sweeties, get hitched.


It's gonna be a par-tay.


In a barn!

5765 years ago...

Tonight...


God created the world, or something like it...


Today, I popped the bubbly (and ate cinnamon babka, apples and honey) with the students of Georgia State University...


And now I leave in a rainstorm for Iowa.


So Shana Tovah everyone!!!


Happy new year, world! You don't look bad for a lady 5765 years old, despite your depleted ozone and your polluted oceans.


I think you're really pretty.

350 Years ago, the Jews were landing...

The Citizen Stranger
By JONATHAN ROSEN


ome time in late summer, 350 years ago, 23 Jews arrived in what was then New Amsterdam, beginning one of the most remarkable chapters in the history of an already remarkable Diaspora. It is tempting to picture a single, symbolic boat carrying George Gershwin, Jonas Salk, Groucho Marx, Meyer Lansky, Emma Goldman, Hank Greenberg and an untold number of garment workers, accountants, public school teachers and dermatologists. But that first wave of immigrants - if 23 men, women and children can be called a wave - were refugees from Recife, Brazil, which had passed from the Dutch to the Portuguese and was now open to the Inquisition and closed to Jews.


Read more here!

A really great line from Miss Shanna....

"Aware every game is rigged, even the ones we win."


Read the whole entire poem for FREE at...


The no-tell motel!

Do I buy...

A Volvo? There area few on Ebay right now... Or would that make me a total soccer mom?


The show last night was great!


I had an experience I want to blog about later, and put in the proposal I'm working on... but there's no time now. Suffice it to say that the bartender of the venue warned me about the "NATIVES."


By which he meant the african-americans who live in the neighborhood?


Natives?


(Shiver)

There's nothing to be done about it...

You absolutely, positively, without-a-doubt, MUST (if you live in the Atlanta area) come to the Echo Lounge tomorrow night to see my hubby kick total ass on the bass guitar... with his amazing band No River City. Cello, many guitars, and the prettiest dang harmonies this side of a long way away...


No kidding.


You'll regret it iffen you don't come. AND I'll hate you.


Not really.


Not really.

Disco diner...

Last night I went to see the Braves, adn then to the disco diner, which was amazingly full of subdued crossdressers. If you can imagine!

Poetry tag to come...

My amazing friend Anthony is going to be helping me put together the site for the project.

A new kind of lit mag! Where the "editorial staff" is every contributor we've ever had...

Fuck you Frances!

My car is totally totaled. My power is out. My freezer is dripping. My hair is frizzy. My shirt is wet.
My drum lesson is canceled.


I think I'll go to bed with soup.

One more...

Website!

http://nogapo.blogspot.com/


A way to network Atlanta area writers... and maybe start a reading series.


Please please please, if you know a writer in the Atlanta vicinity... tell them to visit the site and email me.

Thanks, y'all!

My guilty conscience... and a call for submissions...

Seems only fitting...


Schiavo's post about Almond's piece currently posted at KTB made me feel bad.


Because I'm a new editor as KtB and I'm not doing my job at all, bogged down as I am with my work in the mainstream of faith...


So I'm now officially calling for queries, for the first time.


If outsider religious fervor interests you, or if you have a kickass essay that you think fits the mag... or an incredible photo you'd like to see illustrating some of our phenomenal prose... or even a faith-full poem, send it my way.


At least, send me a short pitch, in an email, and put KtB in the subject.


But please make sure you understand the magazine, and please please please, if you want to send poems, realize that this has not, in the past, been a poetry mag. So I'll be super-selective about considering poems, judging not just on quality, but on KtBness. So make sure you "get it" before I "get it." Pretty please.


Or Jesus will eat you. And Allah will watch.

Dog-shopping...

T his pooch was VERY happy to meet me...

Four things I want you to know...

1. Last night we went to the REPLACEMENTS tribute night at the EARL and it was SUPERGOOD. NO RIVER CITY kicks much ass!


2. I had a dream that I was hanging out with Chingy and Snoop Dog, and they were showing me how to sample a song written in 6/8 for a song in 4/4. ??? Weird-O!


3. I am, for the first time ever, on a crash diet. Officially as of this very minute. Never done this before but I'll be damned if I'm gonna be uncomfortable in my dress for Dave and Mindy's wedding. Hopefully, my declaration here and now will keep me from eating a bowl of Queso today (a crime I committed last night).


4. Most of all, Tom Hopkins is busy being brilliant over at TOMHOP. As usual. Go visit him. Here's a smaple to convince you:


Some of my opponents have gone on the record as being against babies and puppies. Time and time again, they have voted against babies, and have speechified and slandered against cute, little, defenseless puppies. Let me make my position clear: I love babies, and puppies, and you, and I will never allow babies to be puppies, and puppy America will never be a safe harbor for the antibaby of love. […]

In case nobody's spammed THIS to you...

We're Not in Lake Wobegon Anymore
By Garrison Keillor



Something has gone seriously haywire with the Republican Party. Once, it was the party of pragmatic Main Street businessmen in steel-rimmed spectacles who decried profligacy and waste, were devoted to their communities and supported the sort of prosperity that raises all ships. They were good-hearted people who vanquished the gnarlier elements of their party, the paranoid Roosevelt-haters, the flat Earthers and Prohibitionists, the antipapist antiforeigner element. The genial Eisenhower was their man, a genuine American hero of D-Day, who made it OK for reasonable people to vote Republican. He brought the Korean War to a stalemate, produced the Interstate Highway System, declined to rescue the French colonial army in Vietnam, and gave us a period of peace and prosperity, in which (oddly) American arts and letters flourished and higher education burgeoned—and there was a degree of plain decency in the country. Fifties Republicans were giants compared to today’s. Richard Nixon was the last Republican leader to feel a Christian obligation toward the poor...

I got this from Drew DeMan, but you can read the whole thing over at IN THESE TIMES

Oh Johnny, I've missed ye!

Hey everyone. Used to be John was married and I was single, in those magical workshop ddaze. Now I'm married and he's single...


Guess we'll never get to walk hand in hand through a dappled orchard.


But we can always swap blogs!!! Check him OUT!

Laura Bush...

Was it my imagination, or did this woman say "...horrific horror" last night?

That's terribly terrible. Awfully awful.

Ugh.

New blogs, two of em!!!

Because I don't have enough to do. Ha!


So...

In case you'd like to watch me S-L-O-W-L-Y write a book for children...


I have a new blog here, called OUCH: the Lonely Thistle.


And yet another new blog here, for work, called Jewish GSU. In case you happen to be Jewish and a student at Georgia State University.


(You never know)

Smoother sailing...

While sanity disintegrates in NYC, life is sweet in the south... Work is better, smoother, and I'm doing a better job of making space for myself.

Almost done with my proposal. Cross your fingers for me. Cross them all.

And if you plan to be in Baltimore/DC for Turkey-day, let me know!!!