Sunday, October 31, 2010
What if real women were in washing powder commercials, instead of sterile bimbette-slaves with whitened teth and gym bodies whose entire sense of vocation is oncentrated in their role as family washerwoman?
What if all bran adds that "keep you regular" were filmed with happy custometrs on their toilets giving their testimony where it counts most
What if wills were read out as if they were Oscars?
What if infomercials were delivered with the cautious and measured double squeak of academic papers and academic papers were written with the hypnotic smiling blather of infomercials...
What if the ad agencies that come up with the names of medicines did cars, and vice a versa. So 4.5 litre muscle cars would be viagra, the latest model would be latecummer, fuelaway for a frugal hybrid, a staid family car would be dormicum, a low slung Italian beast Zoloft etc.
What if the galaxies are my cells and the stars are my atoms (then what do the atoms of the stars become, and what is the earth upon which my universe-body stands?)
What if animal rights activists started rescuing insects that had become trapped in spider's webs?
The Sydney Institue for Domestic Violence: Men helping men by sharing wife-beating strategies
Thursday, October 28, 2010
(I read it on the lavatory)
my poems are rather weak I fear
they will not make you shed a tear
products of a childish mind
you only praised them to be kind
therefore place them in a bin
never to be read again
I had just finished watching
To want to share is a holy thing
To want to influence is not
How often I confuse the two!
imposed from the outside
To eat from hunger, not from boredom
to be with what is here
to thank the G-d for gratitude
to meet desire and fear
In our house
everyone has an illicit supply of clothes pegs next to their beds
These are the generations of woe-man
The uncircumscribable freshness and revelations of youth
the despair of middle age
the surrender into grace of ripe maturity
the Jew in you
is furry and sweet
the Jew in you
dos not eat meat
I think I've earned
my master's degree
in feelings of
A comforting thought: as I get older I move from anonymity to invisibility
Now available from Kindle at only $5.95 a giggle. There is, however, an advisory. On Kindle the book’s beautiful illustrations are only in black & white, as Kindle does not yet support colour. If you want the charming originals, order the book online
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
now that I'm in my later 40's, a night on the town means staying up 'til almost 11:00 to write a few poems
Monday, October 18, 2010
After my divorce I was paralysed for eight months. I buried myself in work, and at night I took sleeping pills. But by September the sharp pain had become a dull ache, and there were moments when I didn't even notice it. Urged on by some friends, I started dating women again. A divorcee here, a widowed mother of three there.
The Sydney Institute for Domestic Violence: Men helping men be mean and sharing wife-beating strategies
Story about a psychologist who is soon to graduate and wants to get their unmet sexual "needs" "handled" before beginning unsupervised clinical work. Comedy. tantra groups. brothels. etc.
Sunday, October 17, 2010
Using the eneagram to help your children intergrate their agression, and their "shadow" material.
Often when a child says to a sibling something like "I hate you, I wish you were dead" parents tell them to be nice and not to say things like that.
My own son sometimes displays in a veery mild way some of the constellation of traits that have noww been labelled asberger's, and which are equivalent to type 5 on the eneagram. But static labels placed on fluid beings can never do justice to their story...
interesting to compare the Reichian / Lowen taxonomy of personalities with the Enneagram...oral; schizoid; rigid; psychopath; and masochistic
Saturday, October 16, 2010
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
"Not only do I HAVE to be a father to myself, but also to my father (never mind to my own sons) - and it is too much."
No wonder I might feel overwhelmed when I'm unquestioningly accepting this belief.
Part of me - admittedly only a teensy weensy part of me - wants to be with my dad in the old aged home. Or perhaps IS my dad in the old aged home.
On the flight out to Africa, the seemly interminable torturous 14 hour flight from Sydney, my head dully aching and my mouth dry, the night fears come, and I completely doubt my adequacy and capacity to be there for my family, my beautiful wife and children, who in this moment, in this flying tin prison, seem like my only anchors in this scary universe. And even though I know the task is made up, and no one gets "THE TASK" done - eventually all subcumb to something - at this point the task, the imaginary task I've made up for myself - seems much bigger than I.
...and I cannot protect them from birth or death. The only protection I can offer is relative – clarity of thought, how to get clear, the ability to work in partnership, a safe space for a while, money... and this I will work to provide, in keeping with the sutra in Pirkei Avot: You can not complete the task, but nor are you free to desist from it.
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
I do not grieve, I am grieved
I do not think, I am thought
I do not breathe, I am breathed
Some people are good at negotiating
the stuff that is close to them
and some the stuff that is far from them
born under a lucky star
are good at both