Hello out there in Blogland!

I live here in Israel (moved here 20+ years ago from the USA).  About 2 years ago, I discovered that I like to write erotica (go figure)  as an escape, a sanctuary from the darkling plain (I love that poem) outside my door.  The shadows that I create sure beat the insanity outside.  I know lots of people here who live, eat, breathe and sleep "the matzav".. They read books about it, talk about it on Shabbat and are totally preoccupied with it.  It defines them.  I can't live like that.  I live it & will never be away from it.  But I won't become consumed by it, I won't let it define me.  In order to keep my sanity, I need some respite & sanctuary from it.  This is where writing erotica fits in.  It's where I can forget the reality outside my window and help keep the wolves at bay.  It's where I can relax, unwind & have fun. I write purely as a (secret) hobby, as r&r and as a kind of therapy (to let off emotional/psychic steam).  This is what (I've discovered) writing does for me.  I've never really had a hobby before; it's very relaxing. 

Why specifically erotica?  I dunno.  But it's fun & I'm enjoying the hell out of myself.)  Look at the Rubaiayat quote in my signature.  Writing is the corner in which I leave the Wise to wrangle, let the Quarrel of the Universe be & in which I couch and make Game of the lot!

I think of that old Harry Chapin song, "Mr. Tanner"
(http://www.harrychapin.com/music/tanner.shtml).  Take the chorus from "Mr. Tanner"
_____

But music was his life, it was not his livelihood,
and it made him feel so happy and it made him feel so good.
And he sang from his heart and he sang from his soul.
He did not know how well he sang; It just made him whole.
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& rewrite it:
_____

But writing was his life, it was not his livelihood,
and it made him feel so happy and it made him feel so good.
And he wrote from his heart and he wrote from his soul.
He did not know how well he wrote; It just made him whole.
_____

Writing certainly is not my life & I do have a livelihood (such as it is).  But I do write from my heart & from my soul, it makes me feel happy & good. I don't know how well I write (it's for others to say, not me) but it does help make me whole.  It's my therapy & I need it.  I think of writing & "Mr. Tanner" in the context of Ben Zoma's  dictum "Who is rich?  He who is content with his portion." Writing in the limited circle that I've found is my portion & I'm happy with it.

Erica Jong writes:

"Never does she feel more truly 'successful' as a writer than when she sees what passions her works arouse in people. One writes alone in blissful, or paranoid, solitude...So, to see actual fellow humans being moved to laughter, tears, and argument by one's work -- that is vindication. One is a good social being after all."

If I cause my readers to laugh (or just smile; I'm not greedy), cry, argue or be entertained or moved in any way, then I'm content.

I've created a series of stories about sucubbi & incubi.  I've written several stories based on people/accounts from the Tanakh.  Being a frummie, I've created an orthodox Jewish couple & written about them.  It is SUCH therapeutic fun!

As I see it, the Tanakh has a low center of gravity, i.e. if you poke (fun) at it (within limits), it won't fall down. Treating it like it was a Ming Dynasty porcelain vase (i.e. so delicate and fragile that it must be placed on a high shelf and can only be handled very rarely & with great care) does it a disservice & makes what should be the most accessible book in the world the most distant.  As someone who treasures the Tanakh, I mean NO disrespect & am just trying to flesh things  out (LOL!) and make the people & events come alive.  I see myself kind of like Hashem's court jester: His Majesty keeps me around, tolerates me & lets me say outrageous stuff because He knows that I love Him & am His most loyal subject.

I love to read history. My pen name, "Oxartes", is a hybrid of "Oxus"
(http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Amu_Darya) and  Jaxartes" (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Syr_Darya). These Asian rivers were, to the ancient Greeks & Romans, the barely known end/edge of the civilized world. They were mysterious in & of themselves and marked the border between the known & the vast unknown. I find writing a way to explore the unknown in my psyche, to cross borders & see what might lay across them.

Matthew Arnold writes:
_____

(...).

But the majestic river floated on,
Out of the mist and hum of that low land,
Into the frosty starlight, and there moved,
Rejoicing, through the hush'd Chorasmian° waste,
Under the solitary moon; s­he flow'd
Right for the polar star,° past Orgunje;,°
Brimming, and bright, and large; then sands begin
To hem his watery march, and dam his streams,
And split his currents; that for many a league
The shorn and parcell'd Oxus strains along
Through beds of sand and matted rushy isles.­
Oxus, forgetting the bright speed he had
In his high mountain-cradle in Pamere,
A foil'd circuitous wanderer; ­till at last
The long'd-for dash of waves is heard, and wide
His luminous home° of waters opens, bright
And tranquil, from whose floor the new-bathed stars°
Emerge, and shine upon the Aral Sea."

http://www.sakoman.net/pg/html/13364.htm
_____

I float on, rejoicing, a circuitous wanderer (but as Tolkien writes, "Not all those who wander are lost"), looking for the bright tranquility.

Last item.  About the not being a freak thing.  I fessed my writing habits to my Rav & when I asked him if I was some kind of freak, he said "Absolutely not."  So there!

 L'chaim!

 Oxartes