My Crucifixion & Resurrection

Tearing down the temple. Throwing out the money changers. Flipping off the beit din!

Justification by faith!

Sanctification!

The Heavenly Sanctuary!

Judging the saints!

Look at my erection! 

I can’t be more specific. I know you want the goss, but I spent the last three days with friends and community. Passover is not something you can do alone.

I can’t be specific with this blog.

I can’t be obscene.

I must be good.

Your loss is my gain.

I keep my chaverim.

I don’t want to get into trouble.

I’ll be a good boy. I promise. I’ll be a good boy, the best boy, your best boy, the golden boy of the shul, if you let me stay.

I’ll be no trouble at all.

I won’t write about you.

I’ll respect your sacred space.

Levi will be a good boy. A good goy. A nice toy.

Levi won’t Luke Ford all over you.

Levi will be discrete.

Levi will just sketch emotions. That can’t be wrong. We own our emotions right? Emotions are never wrong.

If I just share my feelings, what could be wrong with that? Nobody gets hurt.

This is California. Emotions rule. It would be uncool to judge me.

Friday afternoon. Frustrated with my income. Or lack of it. So many opportunities to make money online. Why am I the loser? Why am I regressing? Adsense income down.

Looking forward to the break. I want to get away from the computer. I’m ready for a new beginning.

Don’t tell anyone, but I did a really slipshod job with my cleaning for Passover.

Again.

I don’t think I’ve ever cleaned thoroughly.

I just cleaned the parts of my hovel that were obvious and wouldn’t put my back out.

I ignored the mess on top of my dresser.

I never eat bread up there anyway.

I put in three hours of cleaning and considered that as fulfilling the mitzva.

Wish I had a wife who’d cook and clean for me.

If I had her, I’d cherish her and fulfill the entire Torah!

Normally I regard myself as an honorary Sephardi on Passover (so I have a wider selection of food to eat) but this year I did things right by the Ashkenazi tradition.

I couldn’t find any matza at Ralphs Thursday afternoon except for shmura matza. When combined with my beard, it makes me look religious.

I should’ve prolonged my parting with Emma but by 5:45 p.m. Friday she’d said goodbye. I sat looking at my computer feeling lost. There was no one in the chat room.

Abandoned!

Where’s my mommy?

She’s dead!

All alone.

Must begin again.

Mustn’t grumble.

I shut down my computer. I gather four Torah books to deposit at shul to get me through the holy days — Moses as Political Leader by Aaron Wildavsky (finished! it was good), The Boundaries of Judaism by Donniel Hartman (finished! solid!), The Origins of Judaism: From Canaan to the rise of Islam by Robert Goldenberg (halfway through, solid!)… I did not get to The New American Judaism by Rabbi Arthur Blecher.

I leave the hovel at 5:50 p.m.

I miss the call that comes in at 5:59 p.m.

My best friend is not in shul Friday night. He is not in shul Saturday morning.

I feel bereft.

Come home! Don’t go whoring after other shuls, for the fantastic davening at the Happy Minyan. Don’t go. Don’t go. Don’t go.

There are some weirdos there. Some perverts. Yeah, the davening feels indescribable, but some of that is cheap grace. Clappy happy.

Don’t go. Don’t go. Don’t go.

Don’t follow your heart. Don’t drift with the wind. Don’t go after what feels good.

Don’t go. Don’t go. Don’t go.

Don’t go Hasidic. Don’t go Chabadnik. Don’t go to the shuls where I’m banned.

Don’t go away from me.

Don’t.

Go.

Away.

From.

Me.

You’re the only one who understands me. You laugh at my jokes. You ground me. You make me feel like I have something to give. You make me feel important.

Don’t go. Don’t go. Don’t go.

You’re going. Going… Gone.

Alone. Bereft. So very alone.

I can’t go on my cam. I can’t work. I must face the bloke I’ve created over the past 42 years. I must sleep with him and with him alone.

No sheilas tonight.

Davening starts early Saturday morning. Thank G-d. I can leave the hovel shortly after waking. I can lose myself in the prayers and the Torah and the buds.

But you’re not there. Celebrating Passover elsewhere, heh?

Small crowd.

Make lots of jokes.

Prayer, Torah, Passover. It’s all a joke.

Hahahahahahaha.

Eat my last bread roll in the courtyard.

A friend says hello and and I’m all flustered and awkward and turn away.

Get back into the line. Say my prayers. Make some jokes. Try to listen to the rabbi. Sleep beckons. Have choice — morally improving lecture or drift into oblivion.

I’ll let you guess which I chose.

Stumble home. Shmura matza. Cream cheese. Bananas. Sleep.

First seder. Abundance of good food.

I burn my mouth on the soup and don’t taste much for the next two days.

I walk in circles. Twice.

Go home.

Sleep.

Don’t go. Don’t go. Don’t go.

About Luke Ford

I've written five books (see Amazon.com). My work has been followed by the New York Times, the Los Angeles Times, and 60 Minutes. I teach Alexander Technique in Beverly Hills (Alexander90210.com).
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