Friday, January 16, 2009
Save Phill Stillman !!! PLEASE !!! All It Takes Is A Buk !!!
DONATE ONE DOLLAR !!! AND SAVE ONE OF THE GOOD OL BOYS !!!
Y18 Asked me to do this....
Lets keep one more lost soul alive and do it in the names and for the memories of two brothers who we lost tragickly and no one seems to bat an eylash about it or even care.
Eighteen years ago a guy named Phillip AKA Pinny Stillman was aressted, with a friend. He took the rap for both of them, cuz thats just the kind of guy he is. He sat in jail for 18 years, almost half his life !
While he was in jail he developed cancer, Thank G-D it's in remission now. Pinny was just released on Wed. He dosent even know what Google or Wifi or Blackberry is. The guy who he was arrested with went on to get married and live a nice sweet comftorble life in Crown Heights.
Pinny has an apartment in Iowa now, thats were he did half of his life behind bars, but he needs $, just start up $ . He probably thinks a loaf of bread still costs 99 cents. This is a brand new world for him, and he needs our help. Were working on a donate button, untill then you can contact me at Leah@leahkleim.com And I will direct you where to send your dollar. My seven year old is gonna give him a buck, I think you can too.
Feel free and generous enough to donate more than that if you can, Were doing this in the names and memories of two of his friends who were lost and forgotton and now dead !!!
Lets not lose another one because he's starving and robs a Seven Eleven for bread and eggs, violates his paroll and winds up right back where he just got out of !!!
Rember Gershy ? DONT FORGET !!!
Leah Kleim
And all you writers. stop writing at least for a few days, leave this on top, save what you have to say in drafts and post it later !!!
TRACH GUT VET ZAIN GUT !!!
Monday, January 12, 2009
Friday, March 21, 2008
A COMMENT ON SEVENFATCOW
5. Atzmus September 11, 2007 at 10:15 am
Death By Numbers - Train Number 3
http://www.jewcy.com/node/8492
For anyone in New York who has visited Crown Heights, and back in the (those of you who may have visited the Lubavitcher Rebbe) if you where coming from Manhattan, you would have got the Number 3, (it’s red).
I know that because I used to get the number 3 OUT of Crown Heights to the Village most Shabboses, while I studying smicha in 770′ (that’s the Lubavitch HQ, & Main Yeshiva - for those that don’t know), every erev Shabbos I’d get on that train, towards freedom, because i had a place to escape to, a friend in the village, Ari, who was a bit like me, although he had left Lubavitch about a year or so before.
We had a special custom that we invented, from the time between Licht Benchin, to Schikya Mumash, that is from candle lighting to the sun setting, which there is about 20 mins, we would down, drink and consume as much alcohol as we could afford at the time, usually one of those 8oz ‘8 Ballz’ each or some cheap Vodka, that i’d purchased from the ‘Other Side’ of Easternparkway.
I didn’t eat much on Fridays, because the Yeshiva eatery [1414, Crown/Kingston] was usually closed by the time i got up Friday morning and wouldn’t give anyone food in the afternoon, unless they had been doing outreach, and to be honest, i only eat there if i really had no choice, who would want to fight Israelis for food that the rats had left, in a condemned building with live wires hanging from the ceiling with and rain water cascading through the light fitting and pooling at our feet?
Blissful and very drunk we would walk however many blocks to the NYU Bronthman Center, and get there in time for the Shabbath services, hopefully Ari would have put our names down for dinner?
Anyways, I had a place to run, to escape from the madness of Crown Heights, a personal drunken utopia, where i knew that most weekends i could run to.
My Shabboses in the Village helped me survive, the internal destruction that I was feeling while living in Crown Heights. I remember returning a few years later, clean shaven (that’s a big deal by the way) to CH, and finding myself braking down in an ally somewhere, crying to myself, asking ‘why am i back here in this hell?’
More than the external community, there is a more powerful and insipid control that existed in CH’s that of an internalised culture, of internal gatekeepers. The community like the si-fi Borg, is one being, it knows everything you are doing, everything you are thinking, where-ever you go, even if one member of the community sees you, it gets fed back instantly, beyond the speed of light, they know, it becomes part of their mass consciousness, they know who you are and what you are up to.
People said that I had a ‘prikas oal’ posture, a way of walking that gave away my underlying thoughts and feelings, my desire to be free, to brake free from the intolerable suffocation of the CH’s community and the constraints of that style of Judaism.
It was not the community itself of course, but the community as it existed in my mind, the accepted norms, that i had internalised, far more powerful and all knowing than any real community ‘out there’.
Jumping in front of the Number 3, on Kingston Avenue, out side the Subway stop that is literally on the doorstep of the Rebbe’s shul, 770′. Was the ultimate flashing fantasy, what a way to go! That would really send a message home, but i didn’t need to, I had a way out.
Like that second to final scene in Flight Club, were he puts a gun to his head, he was not trying to kill himself, but rather to kill his alter-ego who was in his head.
http://sevenfatcow.wordpress.com/2007/09/09/1719/
Death By Numbers - Train Number 3
http://www.jewcy.com/node/8492
For anyone in New York who has visited Crown Heights, and back in the (those of you who may have visited the Lubavitcher Rebbe) if you where coming from Manhattan, you would have got the Number 3, (it’s red).
I know that because I used to get the number 3 OUT of Crown Heights to the Village most Shabboses, while I studying smicha in 770′ (that’s the Lubavitch HQ, & Main Yeshiva - for those that don’t know), every erev Shabbos I’d get on that train, towards freedom, because i had a place to escape to, a friend in the village, Ari, who was a bit like me, although he had left Lubavitch about a year or so before.
We had a special custom that we invented, from the time between Licht Benchin, to Schikya Mumash, that is from candle lighting to the sun setting, which there is about 20 mins, we would down, drink and consume as much alcohol as we could afford at the time, usually one of those 8oz ‘8 Ballz’ each or some cheap Vodka, that i’d purchased from the ‘Other Side’ of Easternparkway.
I didn’t eat much on Fridays, because the Yeshiva eatery [1414, Crown/Kingston] was usually closed by the time i got up Friday morning and wouldn’t give anyone food in the afternoon, unless they had been doing outreach, and to be honest, i only eat there if i really had no choice, who would want to fight Israelis for food that the rats had left, in a condemned building with live wires hanging from the ceiling with and rain water cascading through the light fitting and pooling at our feet?
Blissful and very drunk we would walk however many blocks to the NYU Bronthman Center, and get there in time for the Shabbath services, hopefully Ari would have put our names down for dinner?
Anyways, I had a place to run, to escape from the madness of Crown Heights, a personal drunken utopia, where i knew that most weekends i could run to.
My Shabboses in the Village helped me survive, the internal destruction that I was feeling while living in Crown Heights. I remember returning a few years later, clean shaven (that’s a big deal by the way) to CH, and finding myself braking down in an ally somewhere, crying to myself, asking ‘why am i back here in this hell?’
More than the external community, there is a more powerful and insipid control that existed in CH’s that of an internalised culture, of internal gatekeepers. The community like the si-fi Borg, is one being, it knows everything you are doing, everything you are thinking, where-ever you go, even if one member of the community sees you, it gets fed back instantly, beyond the speed of light, they know, it becomes part of their mass consciousness, they know who you are and what you are up to.
People said that I had a ‘prikas oal’ posture, a way of walking that gave away my underlying thoughts and feelings, my desire to be free, to brake free from the intolerable suffocation of the CH’s community and the constraints of that style of Judaism.
It was not the community itself of course, but the community as it existed in my mind, the accepted norms, that i had internalised, far more powerful and all knowing than any real community ‘out there’.
Jumping in front of the Number 3, on Kingston Avenue, out side the Subway stop that is literally on the doorstep of the Rebbe’s shul, 770′. Was the ultimate flashing fantasy, what a way to go! That would really send a message home, but i didn’t need to, I had a way out.
Like that second to final scene in Flight Club, were he puts a gun to his head, he was not trying to kill himself, but rather to kill his alter-ego who was in his head.
http://sevenfatcow.wordpress.com/2007/09/09/1719/
ON SEVENFATCOW ......
Kafka on Chabad Suicide
I have been sort of numbed by the Gershy thing. This one goes on and on. A calling? The carelessness numbs the time antidote. I see him walking in the tracks. It’s dark. What was he thinking of then, the minutes leading to it…? I guess I will never know.
The only possible meaning was said to me at Chulent, outside, around 4:00 am. Somebody was crying with me about Gershy. And she turned to me through choking tears, and I had never seen her speak so clearly, she sobbed, “Avreml, He was saying, Hi, I’m here.” She was Leah Kleim, and she seemed to care, really care, about what was going on more than anybody else I have met in Chabad or without.
I re-read the Hunger Artist the day after the incident and have always found this story deeply insightful of the plight of the unknown quiet creative person, the one who is never really understood and/or appreciated or respected.
Franz KafkaA Hunger Artist(1924)
For the rest of this post go to...
http://sevenfatcow.wordpress.com/2007/09/11/kafka-on-chabad-suicide/
LEAH KLEIM
May you rest in peace buddy.
I have been sort of numbed by the Gershy thing. This one goes on and on. A calling? The carelessness numbs the time antidote. I see him walking in the tracks. It’s dark. What was he thinking of then, the minutes leading to it…? I guess I will never know.
The only possible meaning was said to me at Chulent, outside, around 4:00 am. Somebody was crying with me about Gershy. And she turned to me through choking tears, and I had never seen her speak so clearly, she sobbed, “Avreml, He was saying, Hi, I’m here.” She was Leah Kleim, and she seemed to care, really care, about what was going on more than anybody else I have met in Chabad or without.
I re-read the Hunger Artist the day after the incident and have always found this story deeply insightful of the plight of the unknown quiet creative person, the one who is never really understood and/or appreciated or respected.
Franz KafkaA Hunger Artist(1924)
For the rest of this post go to...
http://sevenfatcow.wordpress.com/2007/09/11/kafka-on-chabad-suicide/
LEAH KLEIM
May you rest in peace buddy.
Wednesday, December 5, 2007
I WROTE THIS ON SEVENFATCOW....IT BELONGS HERE.
WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU !
Some unhappy soul who’s dead inside and blames the world around them for there misery and in reality thrives off of and enjoys that missery……..Thats why you willingly wallow in it! Or do you wander around aimlessly with the warped idea in your head that since you are such a “caring fucking individual” and “do gooder” and oh so selfless you are ! and because you are trying so fucking hard to help your self, that the world should bow to you and be at your beck and call and bend there fucking backs to rescue and help you……
when all you do is degrade and ridicule them to give your self a twisted feeling of worth and purpose? I thought that WE were supposed to be the ones that were better than this, the ones who left or stood alone while screaming our oh so true but bold opinion because of shit like this?
What the fuck happend to our strength? The strength that we had when we left the people who did this to us when we were down?I dont know who Moshe Kanovsky was, but I know that he lived in a dark ugly world filled with sadness sorrow and tears, and noone took the time to walk him out of there. I know that before he ended his missery he was probably tourmented by feelings of despaire and fear,and when he thought up his final plan he was probably terrified of failing at that too, and when he executed it……
he was probably numb to life by then, and it was the only thing left to do……
the thoughts of a one time fellow jumper……..EVERYONE has a breaking point ! a snaping point ! something that takes them to “the other side” You need soldiers to go to war, IT TAKES AN ARMY TO WIN THE WAR ! And here we stand claiming to be the REAL ONES, THE STRONG ONES, THE WARRIORS, THE SURVIVORS, THE ONES THAT ARE LOUD AND OUTSPOKEN WHEN THEY REJECT ANOTHER ONE, THE REAL MOTHER FUCKERS! But in reality, the ones who cause the vicious cycle to continue….THE ABUSED!……… THE ABUSERS !
LEAH KLEIM THE HIGH PRIESTESS OF SEVENFATCOW!
Some unhappy soul who’s dead inside and blames the world around them for there misery and in reality thrives off of and enjoys that missery……..Thats why you willingly wallow in it! Or do you wander around aimlessly with the warped idea in your head that since you are such a “caring fucking individual” and “do gooder” and oh so selfless you are ! and because you are trying so fucking hard to help your self, that the world should bow to you and be at your beck and call and bend there fucking backs to rescue and help you……
when all you do is degrade and ridicule them to give your self a twisted feeling of worth and purpose? I thought that WE were supposed to be the ones that were better than this, the ones who left or stood alone while screaming our oh so true but bold opinion because of shit like this?
What the fuck happend to our strength? The strength that we had when we left the people who did this to us when we were down?I dont know who Moshe Kanovsky was, but I know that he lived in a dark ugly world filled with sadness sorrow and tears, and noone took the time to walk him out of there. I know that before he ended his missery he was probably tourmented by feelings of despaire and fear,and when he thought up his final plan he was probably terrified of failing at that too, and when he executed it……
he was probably numb to life by then, and it was the only thing left to do……
the thoughts of a one time fellow jumper……..EVERYONE has a breaking point ! a snaping point ! something that takes them to “the other side” You need soldiers to go to war, IT TAKES AN ARMY TO WIN THE WAR ! And here we stand claiming to be the REAL ONES, THE STRONG ONES, THE WARRIORS, THE SURVIVORS, THE ONES THAT ARE LOUD AND OUTSPOKEN WHEN THEY REJECT ANOTHER ONE, THE REAL MOTHER FUCKERS! But in reality, the ones who cause the vicious cycle to continue….THE ABUSED!……… THE ABUSERS !
LEAH KLEIM THE HIGH PRIESTESS OF SEVENFATCOW!
Saturday, November 24, 2007
Friday, November 23, 2007
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
Because it feels so good !!!
http://babyboiiluvu.blogspot.com/2007/10/aussi-this-is-howi-dunno-why.html
what did Gershy feel ?
Do you know ?
Do you care ?
NO !
what did Gershy feel ?
Do you know ?
Do you care ?
NO !
Saturday, September 29, 2007
Sunday, September 16, 2007
My Sweet Friend Choomie Bruck Wrote This...
we know .......
there are dozens of us but we're scattered ,we were naive and fragile in a world we were never allowed to see so it stands to reason when the culture shock wares off there is alot of rebuilding of the spiritof the soul of the body and with words of hatred burned into our very flesh into the grooves of our brain the fucking shit we were forced to believe for too long.
so now we are forced to live, despite we want to live because but we can't we want to live deliberately with passion with the same happiness with freedom from haunting thoughts and physically repulsive memories of voices saying you can't and you never will .
well we did we came this far but it's beginning to crumble, maybe we've held it together with the wrong adhesive maybe all we created was a tent and the wind is blowing too hard maybe our makeshift lives are just becoming to burdensome and we're all falling apart .
whatever the reason i'm not ready to let my home be torn down not even by a hurricane so fuck all you tormenters and autonomy killers and childhood dream takers and self esteem crushers and life sucking pathetic self haters so inadequate you wastes of sperm your evil fingers should be cut off your tongues ripped out .
you should be slamming yourself in front of trains ,you should be overdosing, throwing yourself off buildings, being shot in your basement, we're waking up now we're strong now we've endured enough now and we are uniting watch out you little weazels you have no idea you're about to keep whitnessing that shit being fucked up right in front of your inanimate, perverted pathetic little world and you'll know it but we won't have to do a thing......
you're already doing it to yourselves!!!!!
By Choomie Bruck....My awsome sweet friend.
there are dozens of us but we're scattered ,we were naive and fragile in a world we were never allowed to see so it stands to reason when the culture shock wares off there is alot of rebuilding of the spiritof the soul of the body and with words of hatred burned into our very flesh into the grooves of our brain the fucking shit we were forced to believe for too long.
so now we are forced to live, despite we want to live because but we can't we want to live deliberately with passion with the same happiness with freedom from haunting thoughts and physically repulsive memories of voices saying you can't and you never will .
well we did we came this far but it's beginning to crumble, maybe we've held it together with the wrong adhesive maybe all we created was a tent and the wind is blowing too hard maybe our makeshift lives are just becoming to burdensome and we're all falling apart .
whatever the reason i'm not ready to let my home be torn down not even by a hurricane so fuck all you tormenters and autonomy killers and childhood dream takers and self esteem crushers and life sucking pathetic self haters so inadequate you wastes of sperm your evil fingers should be cut off your tongues ripped out .
you should be slamming yourself in front of trains ,you should be overdosing, throwing yourself off buildings, being shot in your basement, we're waking up now we're strong now we've endured enough now and we are uniting watch out you little weazels you have no idea you're about to keep whitnessing that shit being fucked up right in front of your inanimate, perverted pathetic little world and you'll know it but we won't have to do a thing......
you're already doing it to yourselves!!!!!
By Choomie Bruck....My awsome sweet friend.
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