The letters of our thoughts are the ideas present in our mind before they come to realization . . . Thoughts that are, yet not felt . . . The words of the subconscious . . . of the soul . . .


Wednesday, January 11, 2006

Welcome to Slomenskiego 19

I just wrote the most amazing post . . . deep, intelligent, moving . . . it could have been made into a major Motion Picture! and now . . .
It's gone, all gone . . .
Here is a link to my Fictional Short story "Chaos Theory" . . . I know that you've all been waiting for me to add more . . .
First off -a disclaimer. As I've mentioned elsewhere on my blog, I, by nature, am a cynic. Therefore, any and all sarcastic remarks should not be taken as a sign of any flaw of the person of whom I write. If anything the flaw is in me (like the Ba'al Shem tov says etc.)
A large group of over 50 students came from London. I spoke to them for a few minutes . . .
(The guy on the right with the watermelon Yarmulke was in Venice for a Shabbos -After the speech I apologized if I had said the same speech as the one he heard in Venice)

speaking Posted by Picasa

I've noticed that there are blogs that get thousands upon thousands (or at least hundreds upon hundreds) of hits as well as deep analytical remarks in the comments box . . . so though by no means do I mean any disrespect to my old time readers (that means you . . . and you know who you are) I figured that I'd take a crack at writing deep, philosophical essays as well
so here I go . . . .

Welcome to Ulica Slominskiego 19
POLISH HAIR (and I don't mean a Polski version of the famous play about hippies)

elcome to Warszawa . . . oh, you thought that you were in Warsaw . . . Nope . . . here we like putting in lots of letters to make things hard to pronounce (as opposed to Quebec, where they put in lots of letters that they DON'T pronounce like Mo-re-al (spelled Montreal for some strange raison (that's French for reason))

Here an Ł is a W, a W is a V, and V altogether doesn’t exist . . .

And people wonder why they make Pollack jokes . . . HA!

Poles in General are odd –for one thing they don’t seem to like traffic lights (as if they had them anyone would use them) Here when one wants to cross the street he need only walk to the corner (or some other crosswalk) and walk . . . stopping all traffic that comes his way (It aint bad for me –I don’t drive . . . though crossing the streets can be a heart pounding at times) Here people park on the sidewalk, for that matter they drive on it too. Today I flagged down a taxi, and when he pulled over a bus began to honk at him to move out of its way . . . so the taxi did . . . by driving onto the sidewalk!

I believe that Poles, at least the female ones, have some odd chromosome that causes their hair to loose all hair color by the age of 13, maybe even younger. (I’m beginning to think that the Mikvah Lady’s hair was indeed her natural color!)

Nebach, these poor ladies are forced to dye their hair one of four colors: Platinum BLOND, Raven BLACK (highlight the blank spot to see it), RED, or brown with HIGHLIGHTS. The other day I was helping the secretary here with an article that I wrote in English for Sholom Ber. She told me that she would have to stepout; but that she’d be back in two hours . . . when she came back her hair had gone from blond with auburn tips to Platinum Blond . . . uhh yahh . . . She said that it was her original color, yet for some reason her eyebrows remained brown . . .

Anyhow . . . that was my shot at deep writing . . . I hope that I’ve in someway changed your life for the better. It’s now late, and tomorrow I have to pack for my trip to Druskininkai in Lithuania for a Chanukah Camp. ( Don’t even ask how to pronounce it)