A kaddish for Velvet Marquesa Candace, aka Candy Pants, the smartest and toughest black lab I ever knew, whose Yahrtzeit was yesterday.
Today is Candy Pants’ Yahrtzeit, but we’re going to have to mark that tomorrow—I’m in too much pain from nose surgery today, which is oddly fitting.
— sacrifice/d — sometimes with a prayer — defined by others (i.e. often passive recipients of the category) — unnatural arc, so who would make this stuff up? — untimely demise — averting being wrinkled, old, or unlovely — they die so that we may live, especially the meat — frequently male, for some ungodly […]
After twenty-six acclaimed exhibitions, the George Lawson Gallery will close its doors and move south to Los Angeles. A kaddish for having our friend and his gallery around, nearby.
This book caught my attention today and I couldn’t put it down. Plunked down my little piece of plastic and carried the irresistible treasure back to Brooklyn. It’s called: Atlas of Remote Islands: Fifty Islands I Have Never Set Foot On and Never Will by Judith Schalansky. Translated from the German by Christine Lo. Beautifully […]
A response to Mira’s kaddish for the islands slipping into the sea.
A kaddish for all the sons and daughters Japan has lost and will continue losing in the aftermath of this devastation, whose enormous universal scale I cannot comprehend, whose personal scale is also enormous in its minute detail. On how we use scale-slipping to cope with tragedy. A reply to Mira’s kaddish one daughter at a time.
Mira’s beautiful post from this morning about winter struck a nerve with me.
I marvel at her ability to celebrate rebirth, welcome surprises, and plan to keep molding her lump of clay. I usually feel that way myself—I’m having a great life, and I’m looking forward to seeing how the rest of it plays out. But today I find myself wanting to bake my lump of clay hard, in this lovely shape it has today not wanting surprises.
I know she’s right. That’s not how this lifetime works, and I need to go on molding and rolling with the surprises.
So this is a kaddish for a lump of clay.
I’ve been thinking about rebirth a lot, lately and wondering why. All that rebirth stuff — I’ve always thought of it as merely wishful thinking, codified into religious precepts, to ease the mind regarding inescapable misery. Rebirth, opiate of the masses. Or something like that. Rebirth, the place we put our hopes and dreams. Next […]
The end of a long week arrives and I’m in no mood to play a long, slow, mournful Kaddish, so instead I break out the fluegelhorn and toss off a playful Kaddish to kick off Shabbes.