Wrestling Wif Rest

This is truly a first. For the first time since I became a more observant Jew, I find myself writing just before the Sabbath. For years, every week at this time, I am insanely everywhere. I'm sweating in the kitchen, screaming on the phone, arranging the house/apartment, and craving that first sip of Shabbos wine before I break out the weekend's whiskey. Not this week.

The City moves so quickly. I figure that the faster everything goes, the faster time flies ... and who wants time to fly? No good can come with the passage of time. All it brings is wrinkles and incontinence. I cannot afford to travel through time any faster than I'm already moving. It seems like this week, more than any other, has required so much of me. I simply don't have the energy. Fuck what I owe; I say, "No mo'!"

This week, there is no cooking, no cleaning, no sweat, and no sweeeping. I'm on strike. It's the end of the first week of classes, and frankly, I'm exhausted (and I'm too poor to produce a great feast). I spend heaps of cash every week so that I can enjoy the relaxing company of others. Don't get me wrong; I'm still keeping Shabbat. I won't so much as turn on a light, heat food, bathe, answer my phone, or use the computer. This week, I am going to enjoy the company of me. Daniel and I are staying at his place (there's no kosher kitchen here, so I can't cook). We've invited no one. He gave me the cash to pick up fruit, grape juice, bagels, and chips.

I suppose that this is all in response to the overwhlming obligations that I'm currently experiencing. It's all just too much. I want nothing more than to let go of everything. I don't want to create anything. I don't want to haul boxes from one apartment to another. I don't want to bake. I don't want to arrange flowers. I don't want to cut fruit. I just need to be still. I'm in love; I'm lucky. I'm in New York City; I'm fabulous. If I want to remain both here and sane, I'll just have to stop. And, that's exactly what I'm doing.

Shabbat Shalom.