God into God, Orgies

Blogging from the new pad, aphex twin in hand
thru the stereo, lone headphones buzzin through my brain
like a psychedelic train changing lanes direction<-> misdirection
searching for substance- the borderless connection

There's this line in Teddy, a short story in JD Salinger's Nine Stories, it's the one about the prodigy wunderkid who predicts his own upcoming death, a prophet of some sort who writes in his diary: It will happen today or in 1963. It is not worth mentioning even. Interesting how Salinger used the youth, kids, as his heroes. They were always devoid of corruption, selfishness, judgemental attitudes...Lovely. Anyways, Teddy tells this observer/journalist fellow that at age 5: "I saw that everything was God, and my sister was pouring cereal and it was like she was pouring God into God."

To make matters worse, or perhaps more confusing, there's my old Rabbi O, whose name I won't mention since he suffered jail time due to oral copulation on a minor (Guess Who? It's Maria!) who told me that God is love and love is God and God is involved in love and you can't have love without God. I'm beginning to wonder if that's true. I don't know. Maybe I need to have kids in order to find out. Can you imagine that? Holding your newborn baby, straight from the womb, in your arms-knowing that this being, this thing, for the next 15 seconds, is totally yours?-Maybe I'm hanging out with my cousins from Israel too much, playing American Uncle Aaron whose Hebrew skills have deteriorated to those of an assimilated Jew in Santa Barbara, but Geez Louise, that's got to be a totally religious, Godly experience. What the hell's it like for women, that I want to know.

I employed that whole giving/receiving thing today at Dinner downtown. My Israeli aunt, Sigalit, hasn't been able to pay for anything since she got here 2 weeks ago. I think she COULD if she wanted to, but when the bill comes, my parents wallets are open faster than a Jewish camp girl's legs. And still, when she fronted the bill like a true gangta, my mom still wanted to throw down! It was ridiculous. See, here's a great fucking example: when she paid, she felt appreciated, needed. And that's all there is too it. Let her pay Ma, let her pay.

Got this picnic activites to run tomorrow. Should be cool. I'll update later how it goes.

I need an extra-curricular activity, minusing the fact that I'm no longer in school. Job, eating, sleeping, coffee, reading, writing a bit. Though I have to say the poetry is on full throttle right now which makes me super :) but I need something else. Sailing, karate, dancing, painting, learning how to do websites, since thats still all the rage...Let me digress::: Tonight I danced swing on State Street with my mom outside this Irish bar, blocking and bumping into ppl. It was great. Shes a great dancer. Really short. That's not what makes her great. There's also a lack of massaging in this world. Why the hell are we so goddamn conservative and afraid to touch each other? I think we should all just jump in a giant pudding pool naked.