Some Thoughts on the JonBenet Rams-aissance

August 19, 2016

We all know people are really into true crime these days.  I’m sure there are myriad think pieces I can read about this, but I don’t need a pundit to elaborate on the universal truth that humans adore blood, gore, and a sense of moral superiority.  Anyway, according to Vogue.com, it looks like the next big nineties murder to get the true crime docu-series treatment’s gonna be JonBenet Ramsey.  A few questions on that, and also the article itself.  Here are some excerpts:

“… rehashing the real-life Philip Roth novel that was the O.J. Simpson case proved a successful pursuit this year… “

How do you figure Philip Roth?

“Adding to the bubbling Ramsey craze redux is Dr. Phil McGraw, who is already counterprogramming the CBS series this week by teasing the first-ever interview with JonBenet’s brother, Burke, now 29, who was 9 at the time of the murder.”

Okay, this is the big one .  Some of you might know I’m a Burke truther, but that’s neither here nor there.  The real question is: you’re a very sought-after interview, and you go with DOCTOR PHIL?!  That’s extremely embarrassing.  Hit up a classier TV journalist like Barbara, if you have your pick.  Not sexual predator, litigation magnet, bad pet parent McGraw.  Sheesh.  Why don’t people consult me before they do things like this?

“Unlike either Simpson project, The Case of: JonBenet Ramsey won’t be camp drama or a higher-brow almost-academic exploration of the case. Instead, it looks more like a longer, bigger-budget 48 Hours. In a particularly fascinating stunt, CBS rebuilt the Ramsey family home in Boulder, Colorado—to scale—in a warehouse, for the purpose of revisiting the crime scene. But that’s not to say the show won’t smack as sordid or raise uneasy questions about repackaging and resensationalizing a child’s murder, conveniently, during September sweeps.”

Wait-–why is there a “but” after the announcement of the model house?!  If anything, to me that revelation indicates exactly that the show will “smack as sordid… ”

 

Hands Down the Most Ridiculous Story I’ve Ever Heard

August 15, 2016

From Radhanath Swami’s book The Journey Home: Autobiography of an American Swami, which chronicles Swami’s years traveling around India in search of a spiritual guru:

In Kandahar, the people greeted me warmly.  One man in particular, Hariz, took a special interest in me.  tall and well groomed, he was an educated man who had acquired wealth and respect in the trading business.  Through his economic ventures and holidays, he frequently traveled abroad.  After guiding me on a tour of Kandahar, he invited me into his spacious home.  One quiet night while we sat on his rooftop terrace engaged in a philosophical discussion, he calmly said, “Mr. Richard, please excuse me for a brief moment, I have an obligation to attend to.”  Suddenly, he jumped up from his chair, cocked his head to the moon and began to howl like a wolf, “Aaauuuwww, aaauuuwww, aaauuuwww.”  What was going on?  Had this distinguished gentleman gone mad?  He grabbed a long rope with a loop at the end, raced to the edge of his rooftop and hurled it down to the road.  What in the world was he doing?  With rapt attention, he slowly reeled the rope in.  To my amazement, he had fished up a wriggling rodent the size and shape of a ferret.  I watched in wonder.  This was a mongoose, which, it turned out, wandered the town by day, and each evening, responded to Hariz’s howl, by crawling into the loop of the rope, where he was hoisted up, and spent the night on the roof.  As my friend and I resumed speaking, I felt the mongoose scaling up my back with his sharp pointed claws.  He crawled under my long hair until he reached my head.  There, he burrowed himself in my thick locks, making his nest, and went to sleep.  Feeling his warm body deeply breathing on my head, I experienced another kind of culture shock.

I looked to my host for help.  “What do I do now?”

My friend laughed.  “Mr. Richard, he found a good nest in your hair.”

My neck felt as if it were breaking from his weight.  “Please take him off.”

Hariz became serious.  Under the starlit night, he sipped his tea and narrowed his eyes, warning me, “There is an ancient truth: Never wake up a sleeping mongoose.”  He set the teacup on the table and told me the animal was sacred to the ancient Egyptians.  “The mongoose is a ferocious killer when angered.  In battle, a mongoose will slay the cobra, the deadliest of serpents and symbol of death.”  Hariz sipped his tea again and leaned back, “If you suddenly wake him, he may tear your head to shreds.  Mr. Richard, do not even slightly move until he leaves on his own.”

Hours passed as I sat motionless, fearing for my life.  From time to time, the mongoose moved, digging his claws into my scalp.  Hariz could no longer stay awake, so with many apologies, he left to sleep.  I sat alone now.  That dark sleepless night in Kandahar seemed never to end.  My neck throbbed with pain, but I was too terrified to move.  The mongoose on my  head was like a time bomb that could explode at any second.  I was quickly losing the attachment I had to my long hair.  If only the immigration officers in England had acted on their threat to shave my head, life would be so much safer tonight.

I tried to console myself.  At least someone appreciated my hair!  But the mongoose had not come alone.  Ravenous insects started biting into my scalp, obliterating these noble thoughts.  Why was this happening to me?  Feeling my vulnerability, I strained to control my emotions.  Then, contemplating, I tried to make sense of it all.  I realized that our free will could convert a curse into a blessing or a blessing into a curse.  Yes, ludicrous as it was, this mongoose may have been sent to teach me the sacred virtue of patience and forbearance.  To bear difficulty and turn to God was a priceless blessing.  To transform a crisis into an opportunity was true wisdom.

The rest of the night was spent in an unusual state of gratitude.  Little did I know that what the mongoose taught me about crisis would give me strength in the hard times that awaited me.  By the time the sun finally rose, my uninvited guest had enjoyed a good six hours of sound sleep.  He awoke, crawled down my back, and jumped to the floor.  He then did something that moved my heart: the mongoose stared at me with an innocent affection as if thanking me for my hospitality.  turning from me, he crawled into the loop of the rope where Hariz, who had just awakened, lowered him down to the street for another day.

Hariz smiled at me.  “Mr. Richard, I beg forgiveness for the inconvenience you suffered.  Nothing like that ever happened in my home before.  But please be happy to know that in our culture it is a pious deed to offer hospitality to one of our mongooses and you did so without any of the mechanical formalities.  This morning he looked so happy and well rested.”

My aching neck numb from strain and sleeplessness, I considered his words.  Had I heard him say mongooses, in the plural?  I decided I really didn’t want to be around the next time he cocked his head toward the sky and howled like a wolf.  Scratching my bug bitten head and itching to move on, I sighed.  “Hariz, thank you very much.  You’ve already done so much for me.  But I think I best be on my way.”

 

Drowning

August 8, 2016

That really scary thing where you’re trying to look up the prices for swimming packages at your local Y-ish place and you come across an Independent article from 1995 on the facilities that begins… :

A MOTHER and her two young children were found drowned in a leisure centre swimming pool in central London yesterday. Police said they were not looking for anyone else in connection with the deaths.

Their three bodies, all fully clothed, were discovered by a member of the staff in the main 25-metre pool at the Seymour Leisure Centre in Seymour Place, Marylebone, on arriving for work just before 7am.

I can find no information on whether they actually determined what happened (although it seems like there’s a likely explanation) and I really want to know.  Cruel aside: this would be a good opening for a horror flick.

Back

August 7, 2016

I was away these past two weeks, in case you didn’t notice from my infrequent posting, but I’m back now (hooray!) to post more inane shit.  In the meantime, here’s the door of Tannaz Hazemi‘s apartment…

tannaz-hazemi-9

Find Me!

July 31, 2016

Last week, my husband and I went to visit Mont Saint Michel, an iconic island monastery in the muddy shores off Normandy.  For those of you who don’t know what it looks like––which I can’t imagine is many people––here’s a picture.

the-mont-saint-michel-jeremie-eloy-wanaiifilms-com

It was the kind of visit that reminds you of why it’s so stupid to call places “too touristy,” which someone did about MSM later that day.  There’s a reason so many people want to see a spot like this one.

Anyway, afterward I was doing a little Googling on the Fraternity of Jerusalem, the religious order that now lives there (the Benedictines were the original tenants, and were invited back in the nineties after exile post-French Revolution, but decided it was a little too bustling for them.)  I came upon the following from an article in the Telegraph.  Guess which part caught my eye:

“After many ups and downs – post-Revolution, the Mont was a jail – a religious presence returned to the rock in the Sixties. It is now maintained by monks and nuns from the Fraternity of Jerusalem. “There are two realities here, spiritual and tourist,” Sister Nathanaël told me. She had travelled widely as a commodities trader before taking holy orders. The realities meet up when Sister Nathanaël walks from her quarters up to the abbey church. She may be stopped two dozen times in 200yd by people with questions (“Is this place religious, then?”) or wishing to have photos taken with her. “The smile is vital,” she said. “And we usually manage it, but not absolutely always.” There are rewards. A visiting Japanese woman had recently been called to Christianity by St Michael. A medium on a retreat had renounced his spirit-contacting activity as displeasing to God.”

I must find this Japanese woman!  If you get this, reach out to me!  I’ll come to Japan to talk to you…

Other things I want: a pink ombre sweater and a French straw hat.  Ugh, I’m such a WORLDLY creature!

 

RIP Esti Weinstein

July 21, 2016

If you follow a certain beat, you have probably already read about the suicide of Esti Weinstein, 50, who left behind a short book detailing her life in the Gur sect of Hasidism and her eventual defection from the ultra-Orthodox world and subsequent estrangement from six of her seven daughters (one article says she had eight children, another cited the aforementioned number, so I’m unclear as to her exact number of offspring.)  The book has recently been acquired by a publishing house in Israel, but prior to the deal, it was downloadable online, so mournful and curious (mostly both) readers could learn about life as a Gur Hasid, which entails following restrictions around sex and modesty even beyond those rules followed by other Hasidic groups.  Obviously I downloaded the book, because what else am I doing with my life, and found the incredibly choppy translation to lend the work a kind of poetic tone that I’m not sure it  would otherwise have.  It reminded me, in some ways, of one of my favorite novels of the past five years, Eimear McBride’s A Girl is a Half-Formed Thing.  If you choose to read either Weinstein’s book or McBride’s, prepare to have your heart broken at least a bit.  (BTW, Weinstein’s manuscript was formatted, true to Hebrew, to the right side of the document, which I’ve tried to reproduce here to middling success.)

***

When you think about it, you could say that even then it was possible to guess the future.

1967 in

 

‘Mischief’ I, Desi-year-old, I did, passed by word of mouth and was the talk of the day. Grandmothers, aunts and children, all played with pleasure in the story of ‘Desi naughty breaking pole

Framework Playpen in Dodhfninh           And left free to the living room when she is holding the rod!

What were they thinking !? I’m stuck in a chicken coop closed room for hours, sit down and staring at the ceiling or on

Floor and wait for Aunt Pearl will finish scrub and wash the house, something that never ends !?

Never, never!

I Dessie.

As such, nothing will break or humbles me. And if that happens, it will be temporary. For

Ultimately, the Hadassah in me pick up again, renounces the gutter and find solutions!

But at the same time no one saw. Did not see me, and see the situations that can bring me to use many forces

Have been given them,

Even then they could identify the evidence “outside the box, that is, the coop!

The power to fight, to change, immediately finding solutions

And above all – the courage !!

The courage to break through barriers and go out to look for new ways.

And who knows how much courage as I need to get out of the coop at Aunt Pearl, clean freak,

Peace and order.

She played, but David Wolf! He did – –

Children and David Wolf are two parallel if they meet someone apparently broke down on the way, and it’s not David Wolf!

In my case, it did not I !!!

That I am brave, and if I have a goal – get to it, and if necessary, pay the price, with love!

And it was a short-term goal one year old baby.

Leave the coop to freedom.

freedom. A goal that began a year old but there is no doubt in me to this day, and probably will stay in my mind

And my heart

Until my last breath.

***

 

“I brought you some tea. Your husband told you prefer Earl Grey, but we have regular tea ..” The nurse told me a pale face and ponytail on her head rocked back, shiny black over white share knowledge days

More bright. She put a green plastic tray on a wooden chest to the left of my bed, it was a small plastic cup with blue handle and went on: “After you drink, and it seems you’re all right, you can get out of bed, Dr. Tamar Goldstein, Department of Psychological meet you call 10.00 Hadera, do not worry! I’m here. you are not alone! I’ll take you to her “.. she finished and left the room as long ponytail swinging

On her bottom up micro-expansion quotation disappeared at the entrance.

‘Oh, no coffee even here, I muttered to myself and arranged the scarf on my head modestly, pushing the

Rogue hairs dared to peek out and sat up on the bed to drink the tea sickening missing

Taste old blue plastic cup.

Woman sleeping at night sides of the room, the bed to the right of the door, entered the room like a whirlwind,

I stopped and surveyed her from head to toe, and how it is different from me,

‘She looks about my age’

This secular ‘

The general body was covered in pink pajamas thick semblance even wider .. hair

Curly apparently knew days of dark brown color, but over time it popped probably more gray hairs

Had never been painted, black eyes flickered restlessly while blinking fast .. suddenly stopped and looked at me cross, “Ohhh, finally woke up” !! Called me out loudly as if from her bed to the right

Door and my bed next to the window opposite the entrance there is a distance of three buildings, “I Flory! “Announced and opened a flood of questions and updates appropriate sales have been good friends

Years: “The first time here? This is my second home, unfortunately, I’m diagnosed manic depression, now I

In a fit of manic crazy, I know myself, know exactly what I have and when and was hospitalized

When I feel it coming .. my childhood, threatening, already know me, they do not come to visit when I

Here, waiting to feel better and then I go back to nostalgia ..

good

The strongly observant woman, right !?

Girls miss the most fun, huh !? Do you have children? You must have full children !!

It is clear that the strongly observant woman, your scarf right up to the eyes .. the strongly observant woman strong, right !? I had seen

Finished

Forgiveness, forgiveness, forgiveness “

Your husband .. Wow, he really righteous hardcore, true ..!?

Well what am I confusing you and rave difficulty arises from danger,

Investigation doubt supplier of speech ‘I answer their questions and answers myself and left the room.

‘The strongly observant woman, it is clear that the strongly observant woman. Your handkerchief to your eyes, my ears rang again Flory’s law, aiming instinct, I reached for my handkerchief and picked it up because my forehead, my other hand, I stroked his hair a bit and discovered that pops up at the bare head

Suddenly, on impulse, I pulled the scarf over my head, I let the black rubber band that held my hair, and I shook my head slowly from side to side, giving the hair soft surf on my shoulders

Lightly oh, a sense of delight and wrapped the body release

‘Day display! No more costumes! Loving voice said and gave me a hug

I am a new Hadassah. No more nurturing to the eyes, I chose another, and so it will remain! Encourages new decision I got up and walked to the bathroom first steps visible hair long and wavy, caressed my neck every step and made me feel all my being the word

At the time, became the long-awaited, and some individual moments of happiness, a reality:

freedom.

 

 

Readers

July 15, 2016

Standing in an airport security line, amidst the stumbling iPhone zombies, is a boy, about nine or ten, intently reading Matilda.  At one point, he closes the book, clutches it to his chest, and begins almost stroking it.  “This book,” he says to his mother,”is the best book.”  G-d should bless me with a child like this!

Just Labs!

July 11, 2016

I don’t know why, but I feel like if you insert any word after “just” and then wrap it all up with an exclamation point, it’s funny.  I think maybe it comes from how in New York City, there’s a make-your-own-salad joint called Just Salad, which I think is the perfect combo of sad and funny (probably has something to do with the meme “Women Laughing Alone with Salad.”)  Anyway!  That listserv detailing grants and such for writers I subscribe to, featured the following listing last week.  I loved how they clarify that this is about your Labrador Retriever.  Because every lab has a story that DESERVES to be HEARD!

JUST LABS
An award-winning, nationally recognized magazine that covers all aspects of the life of the Labrador retriever – your Labrador retriever. Based on the phenomenally popular book of the same name, Just Labs looks at not just life with a pet or life with a dog… but life with a Lab.

סרט מפחיד

July 6, 2016

I’ve been envisioning, for a few months now, a horror film set in Bnei Brak or in Mea Shearim, in Jerusalem.  I suppose it’s because I am a horror buff and because I mused to a friend that I wanted to write my own scary movie, and she asked where it would take place.   I knew the setting had to be inherently eerie because I love the work the ambiance can do in film, particularly in horror.  Think: Polanski’s Dakota, Kubrick’s Overlook Hotel and surrounding Colorado mountains, Gore Verbinski’s Biblically rainy Seattle, David Robert Mitchell’s Detroit of an indeterminate era.  Don’t you think Bnei Brak at night would be terrifying?

APTOPIX MIDEAST ISRAEL INDIA SHOOTING REAX

Not the villains

.

Men crowding the streets for one thing or another, as haredim are wont to do––good premise for a scene!

selichos1

Casting call

I don’t know the plot yet, at all, except that I want it to center around a young boy, between eight and eleven years old, who is the only one who notices the uncanny events unfolding around him.  It can’t be anything reminiscent of a demonic possession, as that gets too close to dybbuk stuff, and in addition to being too simple for me, is the premise for Demon, which appears to be a nail-biter.  I am culturally literate but will definitely need a co-writer for this sucker.  How about Yehonatan Indursky?  He’s not busy, is he?

Oh!  And how I could I forget the decaying Danvers State in Session 9, my most favorite horror flick of all time?!

A Chat From the Vault

July 5, 2016

Sifting through my Gmail archives and came across this great Gchat from years ago, with my bro…

me: ok so
we just ate with my boss’s potential producer

IS: and how was it?

me: he brought along his friend and potential investor in his company

muammar al-gaddafi’s right hand man

!!!

i ate french fries off his plate!

IS: no!

qaddafi was just on cash cab

me: WHAT?!

IS: as a question! not IN the cash cab

the answer was “Libya”