Listening to Masha Gessen on Start The Week being interviewed about her book Blood Matters: A Journey Along the Genetic Frontier.
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- Psychologically shave me, I've got faith in you
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July
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8 comments:
Holy shit, that's creepy batman!
Still trying to get the Jew thing..
I've got the Jew thing via my mother's uterus and a few years of Hebrew School, but it all seems to come down to food...in my family anyway...no deeper than that.
Am I missing something?
not the kosher bit..just plain eating..
food = love and all that
Mr Eisenstein. Glad you like this. I'm exploring your b(l)og too and enjoying. Via The Nadler.
Fern: I always assumed you'd 'got' the Jew-thing, in that any correspondence I've had with you has always felt quite Jew-o-centric. But maybe it's just a 'yank' thing. Americans always feel more Jewish, even if they're not.
Nadler: do you have the WHOLE FUCKING INTERNET IN YOUR HEAD!?!
maybe that's it..I can't 'feel' the Jew-thing, even though I was raised up to my Jewish eyeballs in it...fish in water etc...
when are you bringing her home to meet your mama?
wow.
1) That PCR song is hysterical. It's coming to work with me, everyone will love it.
2) On the other hand, that article, while "interesting" to read is so damn boring. I want to read a bodice-ripper about these 4 women. Were they sisters? or in a polygamous marriage? Were they fat or skinny? Oy - the book I could (should) write.
3) Bring her home to mama. Don't wait to have babies with Jeanette.
4) Feeling jewish goes beyond food but I know what Fern means. Somehow it "took" with me, but I'm no religious nut - far from it. I have no idea how this happened.
I think you should make it your life's work Mim to write that bodice ripper. You've already got the elevator pitch: "It's like sex and the city, just three thousand years ago. And at the end of the book you find out that one of them was Freud's great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-grandmother.
(I typed those all in BTW. No cut-and-paste for me. And besides, you know that, apart from Prozacville, I don't really have a life.)
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