Bark at the Purple Moon

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I’m working on a new issue of my zine, featuring the new name “Purple Moon Spawn”.

I finished writing the intro, explaining my reasons for the name change. And I also wrote a piece about my connection to the moon – the significance it has in my life, what it represents for me and how I identify with the cycles.

Most of what I wrote came out rather metaphorical, somewhat surreal, and includes a bit of a spiritual twist. Not necessarily religious, but more “transcendent” than most of my recent writing.

It’s undoubtedly the powerful influence of the moon. Today is the new moon of Shvat. The moon is dark. It must stand for something. New moon. New zine. It was the perfect day to start writing it.

Also, according to my New Year’s resolutions, I set my zine-production day for Monday. So today was successful and very productive indeed.

I can’t wait to continue working on this new, shiny, glowy, purple-power perzine!

Peace, love and Lunar-Chicks

 


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Zine Rites

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Twigz 3Every zinester has their own little ritual while preparing for zine-production. Some light candles for inspiration, some set up a few snacks at arm’s reach to avoid interruptions by an empty stomach, while others, like me, build a playlist and crank up the volume of the speakers to overpower the tap-snap-ding sounds of the typewriter.

On days I work the evening shift, I get the mornings off so my ritual is set to start at 8:30 a.m. but I always remember yet another thing I need to do before I get down to zinestering (i.e. put in a load of laundry, cook something to have it ready for lunch or dinner, do the dishes, check my email…). So it actually starts around 9:15 or so.

I take out all of my zine ammo – the typewriter from the computer room, the stack of papers and construction paper from the desk drawer, the scissors and glue from the pencil holder on the front desk, my pen and zine pages from my backpack – and set it all on the dining room table.

Then, I get a glass of water or tea, depending on my mood.

I turn on the heater because fucking winter sucks, and take off one of my top layers because typing on an oldass manual typewriter definitely burns calories.

Then I plug my phone to the sound system in the living room, and set my playlist to shuffle.

I work to the sounds of death metal, black metal, folk metal, viking metal, gore metal, industrial metal, and the occasional softer sounds of punk, riot grrrl, grunge, old school pop, rock, blues, folk, and Israeli tunes.

I’m well into my zine groove when the clock strikes 11 a.m. and I cringe.

“No, not yet, I’m not ready!” I whine.

But alas, the office awaits. So I reluctantly pick my ass up along with all the pieces of paper spread out on the table like confetti. I lift the typewriter with a grunt and place it back into its case.

Once in the office, I take my zine papers right back out and keep right on working on my zine, only this time without my typewriter or my music, and with occasional interruptions from the clients.

I swear, today, I had to start counting my zine pages again like five times, due to the constant interruptions at the office, before I made it all the way through.

I hate working the evening shift, so my zine ritual morning is absolutely necessary on such days. It has to be perfect in order to maximize pleasure and minimize bullshit. When all items are in place and paper clippings are all over the place, it’s like the stars align and everything is right in my zinester universe.

Entering the Zone, inflaming temperament, and raising spirits, including my own. It wouldn’t surprise me for a second if one day, Rabbis write a bracha especially for making art. I mean, Jim Morrisson already wrote something similar: “Oh great Creator of being, grant us one more hour to perform our art and perfect our lives.” This is what I say when the clock strikes 11. Just one more hour. Please!

Peace, love and I should wear a headscarf for this.

Holiday My Ass

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The Jewish Holidays.

Usually, they’re crazy. But this time, they were super crazy, with a twist of wild and the added element of insane. It was the first time I was to spend a holiday with my married family (my husband and my kid) and not my born one (my parents).

My parents decided to spend Rosh Hashana on the other end of the planet (Los Angeles). And since we were going to spend most of the holiday at my husband’s family’s house in the south of the country, my parents let us stay in their southern house while they were gone.

This however, didn’t prevent us from endless travels in the car, to and from different families’ houses. My 10-month-old, fearing anyone she doesn’t know, which is basically everybody, was attacked from all sides by people who were complete strangers to her.

“OH MY GOD SHE IS SO CUTE WHAT A BEAUTY LET ME HOLD HER JUST A LITTLE COOCHIE COOCHIE COO WHY IS SHE CRYING!!!”

She’s crying because you would too when complete strangers come at you from every side while screaming and making faces and trying to touch you. Put yourself in her tiny shoes for fuck’s sake!

She likes kids but they were all older than her and I kept having to shield her from the tempest of older kids who were running around like mad.

Being attacked by adult strangers and nearly being trampled by kids makes for a terrified and overstimulated baby and a worried mother who will know no sleep that night. My daughter didn’t fall asleep before 2:00 a.m. and I cried myself to sleep wishing I was back home in Jerusalem, where it’s quiet and comfy and where sleep is actually possible.

We spent the second day at my extended family’s place where there were still more strangers but also two other babies, so that was ok. We slept rather well that night.

On Friday we had lunch and headed home.

I can’t even begin to describe the amazing and relieving feeling of being back home. I felt like I do after I come back from a longass overseas trip.

“Thank. God!”

I think we were all relieved, including my daughter. In fact, she was so relieved she slept from 10:00 p.m. until 8:45 a.m. which is far longer than she normally does.

This upcoming weekend is the first time I will fast while taking care of a little baby. I can only imagine how BORED OUT OF HER MIND she will be since I won’t be able to do much. I don’t think anybody can do much when running low on fluids and nutrients.

My coworker suggested taking her to the park which sounded like a good idea at first until I thought about what that would involve, i.e. pulling a heavy ass stroller with an even heavier child up a flight of steps, walking to the park in the scorching sun, struggling to keep child away from yet another tempest of children riding bicycles, walking back home and dragging heavy stroller and child back down the flight of steps, and pass out.

I love the holidays. Really I do. But then again, not so much.

Goddamit

Peace, love and impending winter sucks too

 

Heart-Shaped Star

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My birthday is coming up on Tet-Vav Tishrei which falls on September 27 this year. And yes, it is Tet-Vav and not Yud-Daled as some people keep telling me. I was born at night, after the stars came out, so that makes it the next day, that is Tet-Vav. So there!

As usual, the full moon is the most important thing for me on my Jewish birthday. Since the time I started observing the cycles of the moon in relation to my cycles and my body, it became imperative for me to see the full moon of Tishrei every year. One year, there was a sandstorm on that day which completely blotted out the moon, and I was utterly depressed and riding an enormous tidal wave of rage. I wrote an angry entry in my diary and nearly tore through the page with my pen.

Last week, we once again had a crazy sandstorm that was so bad it made it hard to breathe. Pregnant women, children and the elderly were advised to stay indoors, with the windows closed, and the AC working overtime. Since no rain would fall for another couple of months, I feared that the sand would persist all through the month and I will once again be faced with a faded smudge of white on a diarrhea-tinted night-sky on my birthday, and my levels of pissed-off-ness would go right off the charts.

But now that the dust had indeed settled, here’s another thing that might ruin the moon visibility on my birthday: the full lunar eclipse which is set to take place in the early morning hours of the 28th. That’s cutting it really fucking close, and I hope to the Goddess and the moon angel that I will be able to see the full pearly moon before it turns to red (as they say it does during a lunar eclipse).

Also, I wonder what it means, if it means anything, in terms of astrology. I never really put my faith (or fate for that matter) in horoscopes. But I do believe that the moon and the stars and the planets in our galaxy affect events on our planet in some way. I think horoscopes are a poor indication of this phenomenon, but it does happen somehow. So I wonder what the lunar eclipse will bring forth.

I also recently found out that there is in fact a connection between the Zodiac system and Judaism. I don’t know why I never realized this before. I mean, if anything, it is so obvious that Libra would fall on the Jewish new year. This is a time of judgement and of justice. The Goddess measures our good and evil deeds on a scale, just like the Libra, and we atone for our sins on the Day of Atonement in order to tip the scales in our favor. I’m not sure what the other Zodiac signs mean in relation to the other Jewish months, but this Libra timing is too perfect to be a coincidence.

The moon has been dark earlier this week. I think it will start peeking sometime tonight as a thin crescent that I like to call a fingernail clipping. Hello moon! Welcome back!

Peace, love and still a proud Libra!

Pride in Jerusalem

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I think that everyone around the world already heard about what happened in Jerusalem yesterday.

I was there. I’m still trying to process what happened. The same thing happened in 2005, by the same guy who did the stabbings yesterday. It seems as though no lessons were learned in 10 years.

The march started out at Independence Park. Everyone started marching with a drum circle, music, laughter, dancing, waving flags while shouting and chanting slogans for tolerance, love, diversity and equal rights.

Suddenly, police cars and ambulances rushed through the crowd. Cops on scooters and on horses, or in police units, vans and cars, and on foot urged people to the side and proceeded to the scene of the incident. As word passed down, within minutes everyone knew that a man with a knife stabbed some of the marchers. The music died down almost immediately, the chanting, the dancing and the laughter too. The rest of the march took place in absolute silence. The thousands of marchers were all in shock. Some scattered marchers tried chanting “A gay person marches and is not afraid,” but these were all drained out by the screams of the sirens.

People talk and they say that now that the community knows that being proud and “flaunting it” is dangerous, we would know better than to take it to the streets and instead stay at home, in the closet, in the dark, and let all these hate mongers drag  the rest of this country into the dark as well. This was not a parade. Jerusalem has no floats with half-naked men dancing around. This Pride march in Jerusalem is there for the very struggle of the LGBT community. The only thing being “flaunted” is diversity, beauty, light, courage, pride and love. Lots of love.

I, along with the rest of the LGBT community in Israel, say fuck that. These incidents are exactly the reason why Pride must keep going, year after year. This was the recurring message in the speeches given yesterday. We must fight darkness with light, and we must fight hate with love. A former Knesset member, Nitzan Horovitz, came out a few years ago, and has been a supporter of the LGBT community’s fight for equal rights ever since. He was one of the speakers yesterday. His words were so powerful and resonated so much with what I was feeling, that I couldn’t stop crying during his entire speech.

This is not democracy and it is not Judaism. The Goddess does not create people to kill and be killed. The Goddess loves us all, and She is the only one who has the right to judge us. I don’t care about the abomination statement in the Torah and how homosexuals should be killed. I care that we are human beings, and all we want to do is love. And I also know that if the Goddess was a person, She would march right alongside us.

And yes, I am straight and yes I do say “we” because this is a struggle that we must all take part in. We must recognize our privilege in this society as heterosexuals and join the Pride march as a march for tolerance for all people, all races, all genders and all sexualities. Nitzan Horovitz also said that we must fight this aberration because this affects us all, Israeli Jews and Arabs, black and white, religious and secular, gay and straight. The stabber did not discriminate either. He stabbed anybody he could reach, regardless of whether or not they were gay. I saw one of the injured people in the hospital today. He’s straight, he went to the march with his girlfriend to support this struggle. This is a “we”. We’re all in this together.

The LGBT community in Jerusalem is made up of Israeli Jews just like the rest of us, and they are deserving of equal rights, human rights, love, health services, tolerance, respect and justice. This is not just a struggle for survival. It’s a struggle for the preservation of democracy and against the people who supposedly do these acts of violence in the name of religion.

One of the marchers said in an interview to the press that this is something that happens on Tu Be’Av, a holiday of love, a few days after Tisha Be’Av, a day of mourning the destruction of the Temple, where Orthodox Jews fast as a sign of mourning. She said “This fast is worthless.” Because if the Temple was destroyed because of sinat chinam, hatred between Jews, this is what is still going on today. This act of violence carried out by an Orthodox Jew, who may have very well fasted on Tisha Be’Av, completely obliterated any hope of reconciliation between Jews. This fast was not worth shit.

It was wonderful to see the new group of religious homosexuals marching along with us, and even arguing with the other religious Jews standing on the sidelines. While the sideliners were screaming and spitting at them, the religious homosexuals stood their ground and bravely fought back.

Diversity is what characterizes Jerusalem. The rainbow flags that painted the streets of Jerusalem yesterday proudly represent this diversity. So why did these colors all fade to blood-red? We all saw the blood on the pavement. This is Jewish blood. These are innocent people. The only abomination in this march is the terrorist who infiltrated it. You cannot be a hater and call yourself Jewish. This is not Judaism. I refuse to accept this monster as a member of the Jewish community. Whatever happened to “love thy neighbor”? Why can’t these assholes live by that?

When I came back from the march, my husband said he was practicing Queen’s “We Are the Champions” on guitar. And this was totally fitting because despite the rampant homophobia in this society, the LGBT community will keep on fighting to the end.

Peace, love and Ahava Ge’avah

PS – I am currently selling some Alternative Jerusalem postcards on my Etsy shop. The ones that were made about Jerusalem Pride are sold as a fundraising effort. All proceeds will be donated to the Jerusalem Open House, the LGBT organization in Jerusalem. Please support this initiative and buy the postcard.

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Kosher Lite

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I haven’t started my Passover cleaning yet. Does that make me a bad person?

Does it also make me a bad person that I choose to stick with the regular chametz dogfood I have and not force Diamond to make do with kosher for Passover dogfood that she may not even like?

Back in Canada, during Passover, we kept Buxy’s food outside our garage door. It was still in our private property so technically it was still in our house and it was still chametz. But that was because it was in the Exile, and if we went to the pet store and asked for kosher for Passover dogfood, the clerk would look at us with a puzzled look that said “Kosher dogfood? These Jews have gone nuts.”

And you can never get your house COMPLETELY chametz-free, can you? Especially if you’re someone like me who doesn’t clean the crevices between the floor tiles with a toothbrush, or buy kosher for Passover toothpaste that tastes like sandpaper, or eat matza shmura that tastes like newspaper. Give me some good old rice-cakes and be done with it.

Back when he was still my boyfriend, my husband asked me if I would still kiss him on Passover if he were to drink beer (made of wheat and most definitely chametz).

“Uh, DUH!” I replied with a hearty laugh. I may keep the basic kosher for Passover rules, but not kissing my lover because he had a pint is stupid.

I also don’t use kosher dishwashing soap, or kosher laundry detergent, or kosher body lotion. I say, if it’s not meant to be eaten, it doesn’t have to be kosher. For Passover or otherwise. Next we’ll start wearing clothes made with kosher for Passover fabric.

But there are people that go above and beyond. Like those who don’t put their matza anywhere near salads or sauces for fear that they may get wet and thicken (like bread).

In my family, however, we encourage getting matza a little wet because that shit is too dry and tasteless. So we spread everything on it, from cooked tomato salad to chocolate spread, and sometimes we also break it into a bowl of milk with some sugar and get kosher for Passover cereal!

And being Sephardi, I totally dig kitniyot (legumes, I think?). Again, rice-cakes is where it’s at.

Apparently, ganja is also considered kitniyot. So yay for being Sephardi!

Peace, love and kosher rat poison.

A Feminist of Valor

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Yesterday was International Women’s Day, and for the occasion, I wrote a status on Facebook wishing the female variety a happy day. Seriously, I did nothing that involves feminism and female empowerment except for that.

Since yesterday was Sunday, we had metal night at Blaze. I thought maybe I should put on a powerful song by a female metal band as a tribute to IWD, but nothing came to mind. And they already played Arch Enemy with Angela on the lead, so yeah. Nothing more than that.

It got to a point where I started fantasizing about one of the dudes there making some sexist comment, just so I can say something bitching like “Number one, I’m a feminist. Number two, today is International Women’s Day. Number three, I may be small but I’m much stronger than I look, and you should watch your mouth or you won’t have any more fucking teeth left in it!”

But the guys at metal night are nice dudes. And they know I’m a feminist. And they know not to make any sexist comments when I’m around because I could leave them as bloody as I get when I’m on my period.

Come to think of it, I haven’t done too many feminist things lately. There was a Vagina Monologues presentation by the Jerusalem Rape Crisis Center on V-Day, but I didn’t go because I was out of town. So instead, I called up the JRCC and donated the equivalent amount of a VM ticket price, 80 NIS, so that even if I didn’t go to the show, I could still contribute to the fundraising efforts.

That was it.

Right now, I’m reading a book about Witches. I don’t mean a horror story. I mean a book on the actual pagan faith. It’s got a lot of feminist elements in it, and I find it utterly inspiring. So if that also counts as a feminist thing, then I’m also doing that.

RosiePlus, I’m also going to my very first mikve (ritual bath) today as a prerequisite by the Rabbinical Council for having a proper Jewish wedding. I promised my penpal friend, who is writing a comp zine on periods, that I will contribute a piece on the mikve once I experience it. I will write it in conjunction with my feminist beliefs and how this holy monthly ritual can be seen as a tremendous source of female empowerment. So I guess that’s another feminist thing.

While I’m on the topic of religion, my husband-to-be and I received a wonderful gift by one of the people who will not make it to the wedding. It was a Sabbath set including candle holders, a kiddish glass, a couple of prayer books (including one called Eshet Chayil – A Woman of Valor – with chants and hymns for the woman of the house. Yes, still totally feminist!), and my favorite – a cutting board for motzi bread! This last one is a super fancy board with a bread knife on the side and a tiny built-in bowl for salt. I’m so excited about it, I can’t wait to invite some friends over for a Sabbath dinner, and get a chance to use all that awesome stuff.

And since my man always relegates the kiddish and motzi to me, this soon-to-be-married feminist will be the one to do all the chants and all the prayers for the Sabbath dinner, and this time with a headscarf.

May be kinda reform, but you don’t get any more feminist than that!

Peace, love and Wednesday, March 11, 2015, Kaf Be’Adar, Tashaah.