Lately many people have been asking me what it was like serving in the IDF. I honestly can’t say because really— I don’t remember much. My service was not particularly severe and it was quite some time ago.

I remember crying a lot. I remember sleeping on busses— lots and lots of busses. I remember the greens and browns of the uniforms— my puffy coat that was sometimes used as a pillow. Cigarettes— so many of them. My friends all red eyed and sleepy and laughing so hard I cried. Boredom— the kind of boredom I will never again experience in my lifetime. My skin flaring up with acne so bad it hurt. Eating bad food in Israeli villages where all the houses looked the same. I remember wondering how in a country where it barely ever rains it seemed to rain constantly. Constant hunger. Sweat stains and sleeping pads on floors. Performing tedious tasks that others swore were necessities.

I honestly don’t even remember the day of my discharge. I just remember not being there anymore. Suddenly there was work and money, future, studies, lovers, music, airplanes, drugs, New York City. And there— my memory picks up.

allieemet:

Roger + Roger Say Goodbye (by AllieEmet)

allieemet:

Roger + Roger 4EVA!

downlo:

A useful rape analogy

Intense — a cliche, redundant term often used by men to describe women who express their emotions and desires freely.

adj. in-tens-er, in-tens-est

adv. in-tens-ly

n. in-tens-ness

Intensity— the quality of expressing emotions far too freely, too much, too much, too much.

thedailywhat:

Last Last Meal of the Day: On the eve of Troy Davis’s execution, another man was put to death some 700 miles away.

The capital punishment of White supremacist Lawrence Brewer — convicted of murdering James Byrd Jr. in 1998 — was carried out at 6:21 PM by officials at the Texas Department of Criminal Justice Huntsville Unit.

Two hours before, Brewer was served his last meal, which, according to the Houston Chronicle, consisted of “two chicken fried steaks, a triple-meat bacon cheeseburger, a cheese omelet, a large bowl of fried okra, three fajitas, a pint of Blue Bell ice cream, and a pound of barbecue with a half loaf of white bread.”

But Brewer, who told guards he was no longer hungry, didn’t eat a bite of it.

Angered by this, state Senator John Whitmire penned a letter to prison officials telling them legislation would be enacted if the practice of serving death row inmate fancy last meals wasn’t halted immediately. “Enough is enough,” Whitmire wrote. “It is extremely inappropriate to give a person sentenced to death such a privilege. It’s a privilege which the perpetrator did not provide to their victim.”

Texas Department of Criminal Justice executive director Brad Livingston concurred with the Texas Senate Committee on Criminal Justice chairman, and ordered the gravy train stopped. Henceforth prisoners will received “the same meal served to other offenders.”

Though many states offer inmates a special final meal, most are “generally limited to food that can be prepared on-site.”

[chron / reuters / npr / photo: jwgreynolds.]

bamber22:

this is amazing!

Roger+Roger

Roger+Roger

Become a nightlife drone. Feed your drinking habit like a pet. Decide you need to get away. New York is distracting, over whelming, over rated, cold. Hate everything. Your torn up shoes, your apartment, your potential. Hate the public transportation, hate the corner bodega, hate your neighborhood bar, the regulars, your friends, lovers, ex lovers. Read a lot like you always do. Never finish. Cry in private. Watch your life complicate. Argue with your therapist. She thinks you are too smart for this. You insist you are not. You have fooled her, too. Look for shared housing. Become exited. Have dinner with your friend you have known since you moved here. Study her face. It’s silly. You’ll see her. Feel melodramatic. Cry. Insist on doing everything yourself. Fail. Call your father. Throw all of your belongings onto your dirty floor. Go to work. Walk your dog. Eat food. Have sex. Exercise. Drink. Stop drinking for a minute and feel too awake. Brunch. Have a bloody Mary. Here we go.