I'm an Israeli-American, Hollywood, CA native
who writes fiction, plays, essays & poetry. A common theme of mine is embracing your youness by not following the fold.
Also, I'm a TV/film actor & mixed media artist.
“Life began with waking up and loving my mother’s face.” — George Eliot My mom passed away in June of 2016. I wrote the following in preparation for my first Mother's Day without her.
My Road Trip with Worry
The 13th century poet and theologian, Rumi, is throwing a party in his guest house and I’ve decided to crash it. This being human is a guest house. Every morning a new arrival. A joy, a depression, a meanness, some momentary awareness comes as an unexpected visitor. Welcome and entertain them all! Even if they are a crowd of sorrows, who violently sweep your house empty of its furniture, still, treat each guest honorably. He may be clearing you out for some new delight. The dark thought, the shame, the malice. meet them at the door laughing and invite them in. Be grateful for whatever comes. because each has been sent as a guide from beyond. -Rumi
Seek and Ye Shall Seek
Robert and Susan leave their not-so-great-way-over-priced-but-in-the-right-zip-code abode and hurry into their much-too-flashy-no-matter-how-you-justify-it Mercedes Benz and speed their way through Beverly Glen to their horrid destination.
Love and Ping Pong
Jeff lived in an art deco one-bedroom apartment in Los Felis. Downstairs there was a rec room with a few free weights and a ping pong table. My big brother and I used to play ping pong at Highland Springs Resort every summer when I was a kid. I beat him every time. I love to win.
Electric Blue Dreams
yesterday as I slept my thinking mind took a trip one carry on bag and a personal item many checked bags too many to count
I Am the Orange Sun
glowing inside i am partly what you made me from your home in Petah Tikva born under the desert sky i am fragments of my mother
When I was a little girl I had a recurring nightmare of my mom dying. I’d wake up out of breath, panicked. I’d run into my parents’ bedroom, quietly put my tiny face up to her beautiful mouth and then let out a sigh of relief when I felt her breath on me. She’s okay. I can go back to bed now.
All of It
I bow to the wind that tickles my face, the covers that keep me warm, the earth that holds me up. I bow to the bird’s song that lulls me,