Brevels [Readers Correction: Brevilles]

Made brevels (bevels?) at a particular family’s house

It was so nice. Not something I really do at home

“You gonna make a post about making brevels here,

Make it all poetic and stuff?”

The youngest asked

(I made a post about them before)

“pf. No”

…

Heck why not

Me ‘n; the kids in the kitchen

Well

Two aren’t kids in the proper sense

But as in; they’re the children of the parents

Anyway

Brevels

Or is it bevels?

I don’t have this at home!

There was a wonderful spontaneity to it

Just me and the youngest chatting

“Hey let’s make brevels”

Haha

Cute kid

Why stop there?

He informs his two siblings of our undertaking

On the intercom

Intercom!

Sweet!

My house doesn’t do that

We just yell upstairs

They both come down to join our venture

He offers hot chocolate

Hot chocolate!

Yes!

I cut up tomatoes

Tomahtoes

And onions

Is this cheese off?

It smells alright

Or does it?

How’s it supposed to smell?

Mmmm

Tastes like…cheese

Use it

(As of this writing I’m not hurling)

The youngest puts ‘em together

Ketchup (tomahtoe sauce)

Tomato (tomahto)

Cheese

In the brevel

All of us seem to have our own little duty

Cutting

Constructing

Hot chocolate

Cheese-preparing or slicing or something

Just talkin’ and makin’ brevels

There’s a real charm to that

At least here

Finally done

Pipin’ hot

Add some onions for texture

mmmmmm

“Which brevels are better?” she asks

Ooo trick question

I get it

This time little-one made them

Last time she made them

Good thing I remember that

Obviously the ones from last time are better

(Really they were)

(They were fuller and more flavorful)

Hot chocolate!

With foam!

How do you get the foam?

Do you buy it in a packet or something?

Oh the taste and smell of the brevel

Ah,

Reminds me of good times

Cool early Arizona morning

Sun still yawning in slumber

Sitting in the succa over some chassidus

Cool desert breeze coming through the windows

Early birds all around

Reading while sipping a mug of coffee

Nobody else is up

Just the sound of birds and palm trees

And I have my half a bagel toasted w/ cheese and veggies

The hot chocolate

Sends me back to earlier days

Winter

Sitting with my family

Watching the Chanukah candles burn

My grandparents came

Mom made her amazing latkes

And hot chocolate

Aye

Those were the days

Those are the memories

They had those tastes and smells

Now these tastes and smells

Along with the other tastes and smells of bygone years

Are finding new memories to match

Right here in Melbourne

Right in this lovely house

House?

I meant home

Regarding My Inappropiate Blog

We briefly met on the tram in which you expressed some problems you have with my blog. Due to the lack of time to address you, I promised I would put up a post in response to your concerns.

You had two main points:

· You feel that the content and style of my writing is not appropriate, not befitting, and I should change and not write such things.

· You are very upset that, according to you, a lot of girls are reading my writing.

Now allow me to explain why these claims are not sufficient cause for me to make any changes in the same order in which you presented them.

There is nothing crude, sexual, offensive, anti-religious, nor does it boast a worldly theme. Quite the contrary in fact, my blog contains many posts which are written to be inspiring, convey a mivtzoim story, or give a humorous account of life in yeshiva. You can find examples of what I mean in the navigation bar to the right under the title ‘Best of What’s Good’. I suggest you do some further reading before you condemn my writing as ‘inappropriate’ and ‘unbefitting’.

Further reason I feel no need to change anything is that I simply write the way I think. I’m not going to project an image of myself that does nothing but conform to the approval of the masses and is completely fake. I have no desire to please and satisfy 100% of the population and parade myself as something I’m not. I know a few who do just that and I think less of them for it. Why then, would I do the same? I write the way I think and speak. The way I think and speak is who I am. If you don’t like my writing then you probably won’t like me. I see no reason to put effort into something that is inevitably pointless. In addition, there are specific people that comprise my target audience. What I write is composed with these few people in mind.

Your second charge against me, which seems to be a major cause of vexation, is the alleged popularity amongst female readers. I don’t see how you could really say that with such confidence. I myself am aware of a number of visits from this country or that, but I have no way of knowing anything more. Not who they are nor their age and especially not their gender. Think carefully sir, are you sure you’re not just coming to conclusions based on a little information (i.e. you simply heard a girl mention it once)? If there are a growing number of female readers, then that wouldn’t rule out a growing number of male readers in relation to the female ones. In which case all you can really say is that there are a growing number of people reading.

Nevertheless let’s assume you are correct, and perhaps you are, and the majority of readers are indeed female. For your benefit I’ll go even further and construct a hypothetical situation in which all the readers are girls. Even in such a case, you view this as a problem and I do not. I have no idea who these girls you speak of are. I have no connection to them whatsoever. I have never spoken to them nor even met them and I don’t have a desire to. If they are reading my writing, it is because they find it entertaining, they are plain bored, or whatever puts your mind at rest. In addition, the two minutes they spend on my blog is probably a far healthier use of internet time than 90% of the other things people could be doing on the computer with that same time frame.

Considering all this, if you are still bothered by the supposed female readership then talk to the readers not the writer. If I were to stop writing or make it all bland and boring as you would like, it would in no way stop them from simply moving on to the next blog or Facebook page. Like I said, I write for a few specific people, if others also enjoy it, then so be it and I’m glad to be a source of online recreation. You feel that some of them shouldn’t be doing so? To put it simply; that’s not my problem. It’s yours.

There are only a few people who have a real business to prying into and demanding or suggesting things about my life and conduct. That is; my rabbi, my mashpia, and my parents. All of whom by the way, read my blog and the feedback is positive. Aside for that, no one else should be giving dictations, especially someone who doesn’t know me at all. That’s not to say I don’t listen to advice, criticism, and suggestions from people. I do welcome and accept it, and apply it to my conduct. You however, approached me with a rude tone of accusation and belittlement. Because you believe that I’m not living up to your standards. Such attitude I pay little heed to. If you don’t approve of what I write, the solution is simple

Don’t read it

Go on COL or something

#100: Short Ode to the Other Blog

Blogging is gay

Writing is not

I don’t blog

I write

I suppose by default ‘100’ is a pretty significant number. That’s because it’s ten tens. Imagine if G-d gave us 11 commandments instead of 10. people would have been like, “No way.” 10 were just better for business. It’s more official. Therefore, for my 100^th post it seems appropriate to briefly interrupt my crappy rants for an ode to the other blog.

The very existence of this entire black and white enterprise is completely indebted to the other blog and its author. I never ever in a million years would have decided to start writing, but I was convinced and encouraged to do so. I started even crapier than I am now; I was completely lacking personality, flair, and style, and just trying to project a few random half-baked things I thought the world might care an iota about.

Then I figured out something. I really enjoy writing. Moreover, just write for yourself. Quit trying to parade myself and feed the world what I think it wants, no one reads it anyway. My stuff developed personality and I actually have a good number of visitors now. Thanks mysterious readers who spend an average of 2 minutes and 23 seconds and then leave! But most of all, thanks other blog. I would have said ‘screw it’ a long time ago.

"Sir, You're too Fat to Fly"

“They’re already doing it in France.”

And other communist countries

I was at a Shobbos meal

Someone there mentioned how airlines should charge extra

for overweight people

I told him it was nonsense

The weight of a person is negligible

Unless of course there’s a sumo-wrestler convention

Hope they don’t all sit on one side

What a funny idea

I disagreed with its practicality

And argued with him

And away my imagination went…

Think of all the implications!

Complementary treadmills by ticketing

But it’ll eventually cost five dollars for 20 minutes

What happens if you book online?

Do you put in your weight then?

Or is it more like baggage fee at the gate?

Does international cost more?

What if a really skinny guy buys the ticket w/ you?

Can you get like a group-weight rate?

Do you pay less per kilo for bigger planes?

And more per kilo for smaller planes?

What if you have no baggage?

Then can you check your personal ‘baggage’ free of charge?

What if you’re just over?

Can you take off your clothes and get weighed again?

Restaurants could serve airline-prep specials!

(Garden salad with a fillet of salmon)

You would people pumping iron at the gym

“I gotta pay for this flight to Seattle!”

Businesses would only send the skinny executives on business trips

Say goodbye to lunch break

I could start my own airline!

Jumbo Jetting

Nobody too big!

Sure it’ll cost more to fly

But I’d have more customers

Complementary in-flight burger included

Refrigerator Rules

The fridge

Yes you can store your own food in it

Sometimes people put in food so others can take

Like Shobbos leftovers or something

Or it’s leftover dinner/lunch and they forget it

Most times not

I eat a little breakfast

Typically leave during lunch

I’m usually looking for a quick bite when there is no food

Side for cereal and fruit

But what is considered taboo in the fridge?

So I made rules for you bochurim reading this

At least you’ll know if I ate your cheesecake

And why

• Sealed with a name = no. If it’s marked with a name you can’t touch it, ever. Consider this your ultimate safeguard
• Wrapped up in a bag. Also a no-no. make sure it’s tied
• Good till Friday. The above if typically only good until Friday. That’s because we have a half day off and that’s when one will most likely eat their food if they haven’t already forgotten or disowned it. If it’s stored on Thursday or Friday, then it’s good until then the next Friday. Otherwise, consider it eaten.
• Covered with a plate. Mmm, now you’re pushing it, but it’s good for three days. If your name is on it: three days if it’s yeshiva leftovers, seven days if it’s some other goody you might be prone to forget.
• Uncovered. Gone by the next day.

My fellow bochurim

Keep to these rules and there will be no surprises

Following this I helped myself to some good cheesecake

I had a suspicion who the owner was

But

I recall a certain snitzel sandwich of mine which he ate

Hooray

One of my friends is engaged

Mazal tov!

Yippee!

The guy’s barely 20

Woa

My 20^th birthday isn’t too terribly far either

Hmm…

Naaah

A Weekly Detail: The Adorable Little Chossid

During shiur I got to sit next to the Rabbi’s son

He’s six or seven

I got to sit next to him

He doodled while I learned

You can tell what’s on a kid’s mind from his doodles

I asked him if I could have it

What a little chossid!

A Warm Winter with a Warm Family

Upstairs writing
Fireplace burning in the family room
The smell of woodsmoke
A game of chess waiting to be played
Books all around waiting to be read
Chairs near the fireplace waiting to be sat on

Soft lighting
Divrei Torah
Hearty food
Warm souls

The Father's birthday
Family gathered 'round below
Their daughter plays guitar
The family sings along

A light smile on my face
absorbing, appreciating, the smells and the sounds
Of a Winter that aint so cold after all

Thanks for Shavuos

I had the most pleasant Shavuos of my entire life

all thanks to the wonderful families of Melbourne:
The New's
The Gopin's
The Henenberg's
The Feiglin's

Thanks to people like you
I decided to come back next year

Who Needs Pants Indoors Anyway

I am in the library

Reading

Writing

Chatting

All is well

Except for the kid who ran past me

Without pants

Looks like he’s having a good time though

Just runnin’ around bare bottomed

Must be a nice breeze

And uh, no one seems to be stopping him

Now he’s climbing a small statue inside the library

I wonder where his pants are anyhow

Hope they’re safe. It’d be a shame if they get lost

But I don’t think he’s gonna mind too much

Oh look here’s his mother

She wants to know where his pants are

They’re over by Science and Technology

A Little Handy Quote

“If aliens from outer space ever came and we show them our civilization and they make fun of it, we should say we were just kidding, that this isn’t really our civilization, but a gag we hoped they would like. Then we tell them to come back in twenty years to see our real civilization. After that, we start a crash program of coming up with an impressive new civilization. Either that, or just shoot down the aliens as they’re waving goodbye.”

“I wish a robot would get elected president. That way, when he came to town, we could all take a shot at him and not feel too bad.”

“If you’re a young Mafia gangster out on your first date, I bet it’s real embarrassing if someone tries to kill you.”

“The face of a child can say it all, especially the mouth part of the face.”

-Jack Handy

The Retarded Escape

Went to a bar-mitzva thing Monday night

What’s with all the kids knowing me?

“Staples! Finck!”

It was fun

Good pizza

Great cheesecake

Time to go. Seder

Door says push

[push]

Nope

What the heck

We’re running late as it is

[PUUUSH]

Door goes ‘rbrbr’

Nothing

Pull?

[Pull push pull push]

“brbrbbandabrbr”

“Damn it! How the hell’s this work!?”

[push push pull]

[twist lock, push, twist lock, push, kick]

“We’re stuck!”

A spotlight comes down from the heavens

G-d opens our eyes

Right before us in big white letters

“PUSH WHITE BUTTON TO OPEN DOOR”

&#%$!

Bzz

[push]

“brbrb”

!!!

You gotta hold it

Ohhhh

*#&% *#^$

The button is too far

&$%#

He pushes button

I push door

Bzzzzzzz

[push]

“brebbrdr”

Uggggghh *&$#^

I locked the door trying to get out

Twist

Bzzzzz

Push

Open!

late

My Little Imaginings

I have an active mind and imagination

I always see the world in quirky possibilities

Every single time

I always imagine that one day there won’t be stairs here

And I’ll just fall out the side

I always imagine that I’ll get stuck in between those doors

And green gas will come out to kill me

Like in the comics or something

I always imagine that the end of this hall is the lair of a super-hero

Like batman or whatnot

This guy right here

the audio is turned off

so I figure his name is Mr Stupendous

he's telling me that if i just by a suite like his

I to can have a red Ferrari

A humongous house

And sit in front of the Eiffel Tower talking

I always imagine these elevators actually take me to a different dimension

To this hallway, which is actually some feature in the Matrix

Too many movies

My Version of Melbourne

The ideal Melbourne:

There are exactly the same amount of boys and girls

All the boys go to YC

All the girls go to Beth Rivkah

The boys get older and go to YG

The girls get older and go to OC

The YG guys go on to Mirkas Shlichus for a year

The OC gals go on to Israel for a year

Then they all come back

The YG guys and OC chicks get married

And make more YC/YG guys and BR/OC gals

Rinse and repeat

A Weekly Detail: My Own Special Kiddush

In the yeshiva here there’s a student w/ autism. He never talks to anyone. People don’t really talk to him. He just sits by himself over a Gemara or some other book all the time. Occasionally I’ll see him w/ one of the shluchim, but for the most part he keeps to himself, never communicating w/ anyone.

On Friday nights when I have to eat in yeshiva (which is three per month) I always make my own Kiddush. He’s always there to take from mine. He takes from me and I say gut Shobbos to him. Then we both wash, take bread, I pour some salt on the table, we both dip and eat. I say gut Shobbos again and ask how his week was and he always says ‘good’. He sit’s right near me though, so obviously he takes from my Kiddush.

Recently I came late. I quickly got a glass and some wine and started. As I was reciting Shalom Aleichem and Aishes Chail, I saw him in the corner of my eye. I realized right then that he had waited for me! There were so many other people making Kiddush, but he wouldn’t take until I made Kiddush for him. It felt really special. No one gets to make Kiddush for him except for me. Every single Shobbos it’s the same drill that only I get to do. It’s my own little merit that no one knows about because nobody notices him that much. But I do, and that’s why I get my own exclusive Kiddush.

An Excuse to Crazy to Make Up

I missed shiur

And do you know why?

Oh I’ll tell ya why

I was at the library like I am everyday. I rode a bike to get there. I chained it up. I did my thing, got business done, spoke to a friend, and left early enough to make it back on time. However, I walk out and there’s someone else’s chain on my bike!

I look around. Um, heloooo? What the heck! It wasn’t like someone parked their bike there and accidentally chained theirs to mine. I mean it was just a chain and padlock on my bike! Who do you ask? And what? I went to the library reception to explain my woes. I was fretting a little, or more like enthusiastically amazed, and some guy heard me. Some guy, in a light-blue T-shirt and kaki shorts, must have been in his early thirties, brown hair w/ a short well-groomed beard, green eyes and a faint scar across the top of his left hand. I even remember he was wearing brown boots, like the working kind. He introduced himself as Rick Landin. His accent was a little weak, but clearly Australian.

I took him outside to see my bike. He laughed. So did I. “I have a bolt cutta at home.” He said w/ a grin. Perfect. We hopped in his car. It was a dark green car, I don’t know what it’s called, it’s the one that has the lion for a logo, you know? We don’t have those in America. It must have been fairly new since it was so clean and had that new car smell. To get to his house we turned right onto St Kilda Rd from Carlisle St. Then we made a right at Commercial and kept going past Chapel where it turns into Malvern and kept going. It was farther than I would have liked. We stopped by some apartments and I waited outside while he fished out his bolt-cutter which also took a while. Finally he got it and we headed back to the library.

Finally, he cut off the chain and I got back my bike. It was real nice of him. Who does that? Waist a perfectly good chain!

That’s why I missed shiur

It was an accepted explanation

There’s simply too many details

And it’s way too crazy to make up!

Which is why it made the perfect excuse…

Because none of this happened

Been There Done That

Been there, done that

What a lucky thing to say

The mashpia pointed it out:

“Kids who grew up knowing nothing but their frum homes

Are way more prone to go off the derech

Than someone who’s already been theeeere

Because it doesn’t exciiite theeeem chevraaaa”

Reading this post made me think about it

There are those who, thank G-d, don’t know of all the shtus

And there are those who have been all through it

But in the end, who’s safer?

And no

I am not encouraging worldliness

Just an observation

It’s also another reason I love Lubavitch

I remember a proverb from my past

“Be in the world, not of the world”

Lubavitch is all about going out there, getting into the world

But changing the world.

Not like other Chassidim

Who are super sheltered

I mean look what happens in the end!

So I thank G-d for my past

And everyone who’s also ‘been there done that’ should do the same.

Less sheltered

No shock

No desire to rebel and be ‘cool’

Now am I saying I’m perfect?

That I don’t think girls are pretty?

Or movies are cool?

Or music is nice?

Or footy matches are fun?

Of course not

It’s just easier to navigate through it all

To relate to someone in the street

And just do what needs to be done

Hooray for ‘been there done that’

G-d 'n' Me: The Occasional High-Five

I’m an avid optimist. Not because I think things are hunky-dory. Believe me, I think everything’s a tragic wreck; losing the home, my family declaring bankruptcy, the rest of my family declaring bankruptcy, pay cuts to Mesa Police (my father’s a cop for those who don’t know), losing positions because of Shobbos, sickness etc, but I know it’s all G-d. I get to blame him for everything.

G-d ‘n’ me. I don’t have a relationship w/ anyone or anything else the way I have w/ him. I believe our relationship is comical. I believe G-d put me here to mess with me. He created a humongous game of the Sims and then put me in it to watch, make fun of, and show off to me.

He made me perceptive so he could talk to me in his subtle ways and show off his creativity. He loves doing that. Making itty bitty random things happen and watch me connect the dots, put together the puzzle pieces, and then get all giddy about what he did. He’s good at telling me things and I’ve gotten really good at listening. Little signs. It’s what I look out for. I just look up and ask him what I should do and wait for that little sign. It’s always something creative.

I talk to him all the time. I just walk around the street chatting w/ G-d. I tell him what I’m thinking, about my day, or my plans even though he already knows. Or if something bad happens, I just look up, raise my eyebrow, and say, “Come on G-d, you aren’t really gonna do that…” I complain most of the time. I’m always nagging G-d and complaining how terrible things are, but I don’t get mad because I know that in some infinite way G-d has humor. And he uses it on me all the time.

I’m always aware he’s watching. Just sometimes I forget. Then G-d looks down and has to give me a little reminder of whose boss of this galactic playground. Then I’ll understand and say I’m sorry, but then complain that it wasn’t fair and he did too much and he has to make up for it. And I nag him and nag him and he sighs and tosses me a metaphorical lolly to make me shut up. Then he decides that since he did something nice for me, he can have a little fun and toss me into an awkward or some other annoying situation and watch me figure it out and wiggle through it. G-d thinks he’s so funny sometimes.

G-d loves how big I am for hashgacha pratis. He hates doing all those little things and no one noticing their significance. I know he smiles when I backtrack and see the whole picture, connect random events, and see the depth of what once was happenstance; people I’ve met in the most random of ways, things and opportunities I’ve come across, misfortunes and bad luck that now mean something else, it’s all adding up to something. He’s got some sort of plan for me I can see it. I’m just too young to see what all these pieces are going to mean, and G-d is having a great time keeping me in suspense until he can chuckle when I finally get it and become all thrilled over his genius. In the meantime I just watch for those signs, the way he talks to me, and happenstance events, the way he pushes me around his big Sims game. And every time I get it, I push my palm at the sky to high five G-d.