Concerning Rabbis

I have only really known two rabbis. One was round and kind and wise and joyful, and told me once that he regarded me as a unique, gifted individual. The other was bony and birdlike, and once told me I was grossly underdressed.

I can't help but feel that these two rabbis in some way cancel each other out. Which is maybe the same thing as not knowing any rabbis at all.

I'll Have The Puffin Feast, Thanks

In Iceland, the landscape is varied and dramatic. Fields of lava rock here, rolling grassy hills there... glaciers way off yonder, highways tunneling under fjords, the works. Though we only stayed long enough to explore what amounted to a pretty small corner of it, it still felt like we were traveling from planet to planet, merrily photographing as we went.

There wasn't time to see the puffins. So I ate some. My friend Maura did not.

Not Thinking About It Too Much

When I was maybe a junior in high school, I attended a three-week writing workshop at Simon's Rock of Bard college in Great Barrington, Massachusetts. It was like camp for kids who liked to write, with classes during the day and free time at night. Though I don't remember much about the classes themselves, I do remember that every morning the lot of us were asked to free-write, which meant writing non-stop without really thinking about it until our allotted time was up. The theory, so far as I can recall, was to limber us up creatively, get our juices flowing.

I hated it. I was no good at it. My juices, it turned out, were far more comfortable on the stopping-and-thinking side of the fence.

Anyways, here's a tiny little song I just wrote. I didn't think about it too much. song

The Fates Of Pretty Songs

It seems like if you write a pretty song—a really pretty song—someone somewhere will eventually be unable to listen to it on account of being reminded of something painful.

Concerning Lunch

A can of baked beans, two hot dogs, some baby bok choy...

If, this afternoon, you were seeking insight into my character and had only my lunch to go by, you'd learn this: that I no longer believe that a can of baked beans and two hot dogs alone suffice as a respectable meal. So, I suppose if you said I was making progress, you'd be kind of right.