Stressing re: Cross Dressing
Mar 8th, 2010
It's been about a week since the Jewish festival of Purim, but I am still thinking about my broad shouldered and hairy (male) neighbors who, although upstanding citizens in general, year after year insist on observing the custom of dressing up in costume (fancy dress for you Brits, who are in any case the worst offenders here) by putting on lipstick, a bra, a dress, and a wig…to rather hideous effect.
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Travel literature, when boiled down to its essence, is almost always about some combination of the 3E's: Escape, Expunge, Expand. The protagonist travels because s/he is running from something (or someone), perhaps indefinitely; is looking to exorcise a personal demon; or is seeking to change and grow. …Or, even if not seeking the latter, will ultimately do so as a result of the dislocated, time-stopping sensation of being out of one's comfort zone. Once you are so far away, so profoundly lonely, there is no where else to go but in. Lisa Fineberg Cook is a nice Jewish girl who has traveled. Though originally from Montreal, Los Angeles has been home for most of her life, which means that, like most urban / coastal, middle class, liberal Jews, Cook grew up with her needs met fairly quickly, and rarely feeling like an outsider. Hence she refers to herself as a J.A.P. in her very enjoyable ride of a memoir, Japan Took the J.A.P. Out of Me.
If you are on anyone's mass e-mail list, by now you’ve probably heard of Harold B. Estes. For those of you who delete anything not work-related before reading, Estes is a very sharp-witted, conservative WWII vet in his mid-90's who wrote a strong letter of criticism to President Obama, virally distributed by e-mail in November.
His opening shot: "…I am amazed, angry, and determined not to see my country die before I do, but you seem hell bent not to grant me that wish. I can't figure out what country you are the president of. You fly around the world telling our friends and enemies despicable lies…"
Months ago, I e-mailed a friend (let's call him Earl) about who-remembers-what. Earl is also a writer, and in addition, works in photography, film, and music. He is waiting for his Big Break, which actually looks to be fast arriving. Earl is secular, Jewish, American, just a shade older than I am, and currently lives in a large arts-producing city with his significant other, a talented and funny writer / model / actress we'll call Joy. I haven’t seen him in about 8 years but we correspond digitally. Apparently, he's been chewing over part of the contents of that e-mail for a long time. Here's what I got from Earl last week (posted here with his permission): "…I have one question about a statement you wrote: 'Anyway – suburbia is no picnic either sometimes, ditto organized religion, and I am not a tremendous fan of either one.' Why do you stay in Orthodox Judaism then? Do you not yearn to be free? To not be bound by laws and restrictions..." 
Sukkot in Israel is a hiker and camper's festival. God wasn’t kidding when he asked people to walk to Jerusalem in Temple times on this holiday. I'm not sure if He cared about the ten young bulls, two rams, and 12 lambs (well-done). But I'm pretty sure He wanted people to walk the land in what constitutes autumn here, which is this: moderation (as opposed to colorful.)
He made a damn fine Holy Land, too, and I'm guessing He wanted people to enjoy it when the moon was full and hung low in the sky like a huge piece of fruit, when the nights were cool and the sands were walkable barefoot, when the sun was strong but pleasant, when the breeze was always blowing but never hot or cold.
The New Year's wishes fill my inbox (tomorrow, the Jewish Year 5770 begins…) and the apple crumble is cooling, but I'm not that ready, and I'm not that into it.
It's not that the well has been dry; au contraire, my friends. I have simply fallen in.
It's been more than a month (closer to two) since I've blogged. The reason can be distilled into one intense truth:
I will never have more time than I have…right…NOW. (Or, as my brother likes to say, later is later.)
…OK, two intense truths:
Energy is finite (yes, even yours) and what you choose to focus on is itself a powerful statement, with broad implications on the objects of both you attention and your inattention.
Or, if you will, a Carrie Bradshaw question: When you multitask, are you doing everything, or are you doing nothing?
The Social Well
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