The Exodus and Ancient Egyptian Records - Starways
The Tel-Aviv neighborhood we lived in at the time was a one-year deal for my mother. She had dragged Kaya and her two daughters and me back to Israel to live in the apartment Mom’s parents had bought her because it was close to their home. But it was much too tame for my mom, their wild daughter, who had been to the moon and back, witnessing more of the world than any of her friends and relatives had with all their combined travel outside our small distant country. My mother had seen it all, but most importantly, she had seen herself for the first time; she had found herself in the streets of San Francisco in the early ’80s, in the bars of the Mission, in the women-run fringe theaters, and coming home to my wondering father, all wandery-eyed and flushed, a new rhythm pumping through her veins.
Modern Love - The New York Times
Tel Aviv in the early ’90s was waiting for someone to break the silence, to speak up and wake it up, shake it up. My mother took on this role. It wasn’t her loose sagging bra-less breasts under men’s t-shirts or the rattail she kept, not even her experimental theater that I knew was pushing the issue. I could almost handle that. What made it unbearable was being fourteen and having your mother on national TV talk shows as the first person to come out publicly and lead the way for the rest of the gay community to come out of the woodwork and declare their true sexuality. I would sit in our living room in front of the TV cringing, pushing myself to watch her answer questions I didn’t want to hear the answers to about coming out, later desperately trying to avoid the prying eyes of classmates in the hallways.
, my best friends and I had a game we liked to play where we divided people into “critics” and “geniuses.” Critics, as we defined the word, were calculated and careful and conducted their lives with effortful competence, but in the end could do nothing more than react to the geniuses in their midst. Geniuses, meanwhile, were not necessarily great at what they did, but they were intuitive and couldn’t help but be the way they were. They had original, immaculate visions, we said, that poured out of them as if by magic.
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Juiceboxxx had professionally pressed was , an eight-song EP that was released in 2005. Juice was a senior in high school when he put it out, and in the months surrounding its release, he gained some serious momentum. First the electronic-music magazine published a short article about him headlined “The Next Big Thing.” Then the ran a piece about his monthly DJ night in Milwaukee by the prominent music writer Jessica Hopper, who called him “the best DJ to come out of the Midwest since Tommie Sunshine.”
Call for Submissions: What Was It Like Coming Out
apartment on the first Saturday night in October when it occurs to me that Juiceboxxx, who has been in town for a few days by this point, might want to come over and join us, and that this would be a nice, low-pressure way for us to get reacquainted. The plan for the evening is to go hang out with Max’s little brother Sam, an incredibly handsome young guy who plays guitar in a band that recently got one of their songs onto the sound track. I figure it would be fun for Juiceboxxx to meet him and talk shop, but before I text him, I decide I should ask Max whether it would be OK. This makes me realize that, because Max and I are relatively new friends, he is one of the few people I am close to who has never heard me talk about Juiceboxxx.
Foreign direct investment essays on the great
Expanding or enlarging a career or professional preparation is not an easy task for the reason behind the expansion plan assists in planning the upcoming period; throughout the whole life period people continually alter or change his or her careers frequently....
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I remember this came into focus for me in 2010, when Juice started his own record label (Thunder Zone) and put out a mixtape called , which was accompanied by a branded energy drink by the same name. The tape, which showcased Juice’s now genuinely impressive skills as a rapper, opened with a one-minute intro consisting of the horn-heavy, up-tempo Bruce Springsteen song “Tenth Avenue Freeze-Out” playing at high volume while Juice, sounding deeply angry, determined, but also kind of joyful, delivers the following monologue: