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judy smith Jan 2016
“Ever since I started this job and anyone asks how I’m doing, I always say, ‘I’m great!’ ” Maayan Zilberman excitedly explains. And why shouldn’t she? The former Lake & Stars lingerie designer, who has since founded confections lineSweet Saba, happens to have the sweetest career around. Concocting a literal visual feast out of her Park *****, Brooklyn, kitchen and Fort Gansevoort Meatpacking pop-up shop, the Israeli-born polymath uses her background in sculpture and a biting sense of humor to create her vibrant, indulgent delicacies. Think sugarfied tubes of lipstick, rap mixtapes, and Rolex watches—with their raw handiwork and dead-on wit, these in-demand pieces match Zilberman’s equally enticing wardrobe. Hardly barefoot in the kitchen, Zilberman teeters about in her workspace in vintage Betsey Johnson Mary Janes, while throwing on a customized Adam Selman pearl-laced apron to protect her Prada skirts andProenza Schouler knits. Here, the dazzling candymaker reveals how she has always been more En Vogue than grunge, why she never forgoes a perfect press-on manicure, and her plans on taking Sweet Saba herbal.

From Jerusalem to Vancouver

I was born on a kibbutz, where the first clothing I had was a mix of unisex hand-me-downs, so I was given a pretty blank slate. When I lived in Jerusalem we were surrounded by several sects of Orthodox communities, and the fabrics associated with each group were inspiring to me. During those years, designer brands were becoming popular, and the only place I was seeing this was in the shuk [market] where one could find imitation Calvin Klein and United Colors of Benetton next to tzitzit and shawls. I think it was in the early ’90s that I first understood how to mix my ethnicity with fashion and food.

Also, one of the most influential books of my childhood was Color Me Beautiful, which the women in my family took very seriously. I learned at the age of 6 that I was a “Winter” and haven’t veered off course since. I still have the book and love to pull it out at parties. Later in high school in Vancouver, grunge was the big trend and there wasn’t much room for my sensibilities in that environment—even when I wore my Revlon Blackberry lipstick and grunged out with irony. I was always far more En Vogue and Versace than the Pacific Northwest could handle.

Taking Cues From ’90s New York City Street Style

When I first got to New York, when I was 15, one of the first things I discovered was all the music I could get on Canal Street. I used to buy mix CDs from girls in monochrome outfits and big name-plate earrings. They pointed me to Fulton Mall in Brooklyn, and that’s where I finally got pants that fit right and jewelry that reflected my personality—a departure from the stuff I’d received for my bat mitzvah.

A shift in style for me meant a tougher, more confident look, where a short skirt is a reference to an era, not a call for attention. Music and lyrics played a big part in teaching me about how to dress and how to feel feminine. I had a Versace quilted skirt that I wore a lot—it made me feel like the supermodels in the ad campaigns: Cindy, Claudia, Stephanie, et cetera. I also had a Jean Paul Gaultierdouble-breasted pinstripe suit that I’d wear casually. In fact, I’m still wearing most of my clothes from those days: Betsey Johnson floral dresses, Donna Karanbodysuits, a metallic Byblos pouf skirt, and a grommeted Pelle Pelle jacket.

Lingerie Beginnings

I studied sculpture at the School of Visual Arts, and for a year at the San Francisco Art Institute my major was “new genres,” a very ’90s thing. Right after I graduated from SVA, I did an artist residency with Ilya Kabakov at the Fondazione Antonio Ratti in Como, where they also manufactured some of the world’s most beautiful silks. A tour of their factory opened my eyes to a potential dip into fashion, but it wasn’t until I met a pair of women in New York City that same year looking to start a lingerie brand that I took a chance on garment design. I bought a bunch of bras and took them apart and figured out how they were put back together. I cofounded The Lake & Stars in 2007 with the desire to make a brand that was in line with the story I wanted to tell as an artist. Lingerie was a tool, a structure that gave me rules so I could tell a sci-fi tale while inherently delivering romance and *** appeal.

read more:http://www.marieaustralia.com

www.marieaustralia.com/short-formal-dresses
Nat Lipstadt Mar 2018
~for Leonard Cohe, Glen Campbell and me, a single trilogy~

1:32am come down these words in a medusa message,
“about hymn, my priest Leonard (hymn/him)”
and instant recognition-recollection face slap,
this is poem that
I have written
I will have to write
I have already started and left incompleted.
about hymn/him/Leonard, but
the medusa threads need knitting knotting now,
tying up, now not later, waiter,
when the spirit’s in the throat,
or gotta ya by the throat,
no difference


It’s just turning Thursday (had to check)
and just this past maddening Monday,
was in a NYC dive (performance space) on West 46th,
all the way over tween 8th ‘n 9th,
on the tzitzit fringes,
of the Theater District,
where the small clubs all sit cheeky to jowl,
where they squeeze ya in, sitting *** cheek to cheek,
and wheeee,
knee to knee,
at a table big enough for two drinks and a check,
a stage so small it’s an in invitation to off fall,
to hear an entertainer sing an eclectic selection of songs
sure enough LC, hymn/him, quiet slips in, with a
“natty where ya been?” hint hint,
a burning violin  

as if I needed a hint hint from hymn/him,
“hey, hey, by the way, your house’s on fire” reminder
someone wants a trilogy plus one

“Dance me to your beauty with a burning violin,
dance me through the panic till I'm gathered safely in”

  

of course,
the Hallelujah served up first, this course arrives with drinks and the salsa chips, just in case, I wasn’t fully aware of hymn/him
stalking me, something that happens after midnight regular like,
asking for atonement, and leaving tidbits of unpushed hymns,
now that the sown snow clears  
and the gates of heaven are open for admitting admonition and
up&down come verses on a borrowed Jacob ladder,
steps of ephemeral downy soft violin phrases

ok now I can begin,
as this stage is set with a drum+ cymbal flourish ta da!

na, chill, kids,
almost done, you can’t handle all that needs saying,
but this one needs some fixing, finishing touché touches

should you see a man on the subway,
embellished bya yellow star and carrying a burning violin,
asking strangers if they can spare a dime of inspiration,
so he can worn his way into heaven,
don’t be afraid, for it’s now a duet,
*** with Glen, singing,
me-on-fire-fiddling

”don't be concerned it will not harm you
It's only me pursuing something I'm not sure of
across my dreams with nets of wonder”


yeah.  burning violin.  fiddler on the subway.  after midnight. pursuing something.  through the panic.
touching a burning bush but the fingers unsinged. unhinged. gotta be a poem in there somewhere. and perchance, a ladder to s
some sleep.
see, the end.  

2:31am nyc march 8th
https://hellopoetry.com/poem/1851080/the-leonard-cohen-trilogy/
yeah, yeah, true story, as most of them are...
Therefore, the Lord himself will give them this sign: "A ****** will conceive and give birth to a son, and she will name him Immanuel." From this calami lapse, all of Patmia was refracted in the chromatics of Emmanuel, alluding to Isaiah as an infallible God of Salvation after having sent Sennacherib's mesnadas to his turn. His ministry came to be established along with all the soldiers who did not finally confront each other, but he came to support them from the waters that came from the eastern sea. The kingdom of Judah appeared in glory and solemnity anticipating seven centuries before the Mashiach came to the world of Israel. Hezekiah appears again after seven centuries in Patmia, to decline the fraternal help of Isaías, to save the collective quasi shipwreck in the mountains that would strike the edges of Patmia later after the conclusion of the battle, Etréstles intervening from where he entered the Hydors, as the sixfold brightest star of Aquarius of the Gulf of Skalá to protect all the landowners of the Oikodeomeo, litigating the swells of the sea that should refer to the synchronous beats of the Ruach Hakodesh. Etréstles entered the pointed mansards on the tops of the allotropic waves, carrying a scarlet ribbon in his right hand and in the other with an indigo hue when he swam he did not hold back from moaning for fear that the whole island might disappear, he deprecated while He floated imploring in Hellenic all the Prosas of Rhodes, thus leaving hanging on his neck the suffering of mercy that looked at him from the expectant shore, but the scarlet ribbon cried out for the Emmanuel who would be born among the cerulean granules, concomitant with the Mashiach that clung to him on the blue ribbon when a fragmented chroma emerged from the rib that divided the seven colors into fourteen, from where he propelled Etréstles over the calvaries of the water that prevented him from seeing how undaunted Saint John was reflected with his staff. The Vernardicidal ***** harassed the ministry of Isaiah who came to save Vernarth from the Hercules vortex, where everything will guide him with the conception of Vernarthian and Saint John the Apostle, with from afar they encouraged him saying: "Epoikodomeo" with the aim of building geomorphological waters of the Dam or blood of the Mashiach, forging, increasing wisdom and security to preserve and encode them with the Talmudic essences of Spirit / Pnevma that is the essence of the Messiah to make the ephemeral phase of Jesus with the prosopon of the fit in the primordial scale of Patmos, along with all those who entrusted their ministry to him. Isaiah stated that from a Maltona the Messiah will be born soon, the same one who has accompanied Vernarth throughout this journey par excellence from Judah when he sublimated the iconography of Saint John the Apostle on his return to his inheritance, thus the requiems said that Isaiah had been sawn. by Manasseh, indicating that his prophet's remains would gather on Patmos to materially reintegrate themselves before the panorama of any, beyond the scriptures, only the Pnevma prevailing, which ingratiated itself with the apocryphal papyri. The laws of the sea opposed the arms and chinstraps that Etréstles wore in the joints of each arm, creating with them psalms that indicated the presence of the divine mother of the Mashiach, with the divine contribution that embroiled the scriptures by the Psalms of Etréstles by besieging at once on the cusps of the waves, making use of the same phalanxes and of the Apsidas Manes with watery and ****** meddling by Sennacherib's troops, who by a narrow imbalance in the authorship of the debate segment on a defense that was with the angels, who had already slipped through the opening of the dying parapsychology, to enter the purging compass of the blanket with a Venerable who would speak to them in the first person about the lashes of the breakers enclosed in the annunciation of the Emmanuel that was going to radiate with his counterpart Jesus Christ in the scarlet and indigo Hydor of the Kosmous water compendium of all Patmia. The exegetes were all in their robes on the top of the mountain, they were all and at the same time, they were not. Isaiah wanted to predispose the messianic perception to unite the generous ends of the Majestic Tikun and the Gam zu Letová, so that the scarlet tekhelet itself merges with the chinstraps in the joints and Etréstles that came from the Seventh Cemetery of Messolonghi, to present them the chants of the seventh parapsychological regression of Vernarth's wounded hands that he could barely hold, having the Pisan Verses of Ezra Pound, agglutinated with the Psalms of Etréstles saying thus:

“Humiliate your vanity, You are nothing more than a dog beaten under the hail, just a swollen magpie in the fickle sun, half black, half white, and you can't even distinguish the wing from the tail. Humble your vanity, Petty is all your hatred nourished by falsehood. Humble your vanity, eager to destroy, greedy in charity. Humiliate your vanity, I tell you, humiliate it. But having done instead of doing nothing, this is not vanity. Having decency, called for an obtuse to open, having picked up a living tradition from the air or from a magnificent old eye calls it undefeated, this is not vanity. Here the error is everything in what was not done, everything in the shyness that hesitated ...

Etréstles answers with his Psalm:

"In the main, I attend to his voice that undresses small when they fall cliffs ...when the fierce sentinel hides the Xiphos from the evil ones who shield them inthe iniquity here on Patmos of his tongue-lashing sword that spills bitter blood,that she is thrown on famous vices of Pronoia and dry crops in the storehouse ...
with dormant grasses between lashes of hunger, thirst, and angry sleep.

This is where the Mashiach sleeps and does not lavish the drowsiness of the world! that he shoots and is not afraid of spitting a splendid Hercules cloaked with fullerides of necromancy and flashes of unsustainability in the bitter Pashkien eating the sores from the ferments of his hemlock fingers.

Who will be in the glory that calms his fingernails over the joy of Anubis? inquiring pustules of bolted injustices that stagnate in the
Sagittarius tongue flaring up trilingual on their own languages ...
If there is the blood that I can retain, it will be by submission with declined sphincters or not! seeing where everyone is without pressure or punishment of stuttering or fact that will never happen on a Patmian Reichstag, understanding that their voices
They are the proscenium of the Elohim containing the glory of the fallen when the periphery of the incisive tenebrosity are slices of the Vernarth Psalm, and of Rabbi Masoretic that shelters you when you sleep, however in a thousand years ...

I've been stragglers collecting extreme remains of immortal bones,
In invisible frames with the vanity of seven verses that escaped from my hands, thousands of them being built away from my Duoverse of love towards them atavistic ... almost become adopted children of Masoretic ignorance ... and in the confusion of the
Elohim translated into a genome after an open heart between the Alef and the Tav, between the arrow that serves as accommodation in her mind, unable to sleep if she is not there…! but high up where I can dwell, I see and I abide by being silenced in my vanity, seeing that nothing is mine and of those around me on the battlefield, who sublimate themselves by walking a lifetime on the side of my enemy wounded by the Dorus, and that I have never tried to take it off completely with slight iniquity, only avoiding zafrales and scrutiny in its search.

My vanity will perish undefeated but failed to revive itself with dazzles and sagites that pierce the saps in your children and mine, being poles of renewal of a Hoplite Raeder, cutting the thymus of the cattle and saying that their wounds are the same splendor of the Sagittae Parvulum, like Seraphim children prior to a hyperonym, fracturing sacred bravery that they enumerate him to lose himself in the numbering of infinity ...! As gladiator children, eternal infants and children of Zeus, also being Seraphim of Zeus and Cherubim who will make mustard its fragility, unstitching the time that it carves from the thyme trying to be the Kashmar "

From the eye of heaven, everything was supplied when Emmanuel himself, who was tried at the end of the battle of Patmia, was recognized. It was six o'clock in the afternoon when the omnipresent presence of Isaiah's interface antiphons was marked from where he would make them hold onto the mega Nazer as the offspring of the uncontrolled branch of his hyper parapsychology that expiated itself from the trunk of the descendants of Vernarth, alluding to to Wonthelimar as one of them who was on the wheel of Capricorn as an internal element of Hydor when it was made effective between the golden hands of Isaiah, with full genuflection enumerating from sinister to right the upright derivation of the Psalm of Etréstles with the Nazer, which is It would take refuge in the foundations of omission as a new shining principality, from where the light of the fifteen hundred years between the seventh heaven and space of this same inaugurating the stolon from where the angel Gabriel would make of all the natives of the Notsri of Nazareth the energy that surpass the masses of matter above the average of its brightness, implanting the Duoversal advance where the Mashiach. From Ofel will come the palmar remains with Marie de Vallés propitiating from the Notós or the South of the Mandragoron of Patmia, like a Bull of Concession of collective rights from Jerusalem with the remains of Isaiah in his living Status. The vernacular spirits of the Bethany journey were incarnated as the ruling planets, which would thus all be similar to Saturn, leaving all the rest with the same unrestricted semblance of cosmic materiality, with this transfer of Saturn's atmospheric outer pharaoh overshadowing all others. planets, under a stepped level towards the Messianic primogeniture, dislocating the vibrational levels above the primary embankment of the lithosphere, like a Qliphoth or shell of Saturn's debauchery when experiencing the bonds of emerging Christianization of the emotional state that made up this external preferential layer, of which of this genre they would create multi-natalist phases with the Qliphoth of the configuration of the vibratory cessation of the physical body of Patmos. In this way the seventieth Qliphoth or farfara of the compendium of exteriority and interiority would culminate, giving way to the Fos or light that would constitute the hybrid Greco-Hebraic componence on the braids that lowered from the Tekhelet of Etréstles when it levitated towards the Megaron, specifically the Naos that It would incite an end that just headed the engagement of the spaces that will be covered by the reviewing archetribe on the acroteria as the Lux of the beginning of the transfer of quantum of energy, which would begin to form the browbones and chin of Euclidean incidence in the cockades of Etréstles, by structuring itself in the cosmic rhythms of the tzitzit of its right hand, and in its left the Tallit that westernized all the supreme dogmas of eternalism, that carried a brand new covering of Áullos Kósmos with this mantle of hegemony, hanging from the tzitzit that would finally be the dragging ropes of the body of Etréstles to the cosmic ridge of Skalá. From a Genioglossal Muscle; where the Etréstles stimulation tendons were inserted, great impulses of language opened towards the pre-Adamic gates, radiating like wide puffs of the superior process that strangled the phraseologies that indicated error of omission, making everyone could conceive of each other before heading towards conversion, and to be able to aspire to the Naos from the Megarón. The most experienced used to expectorate and move sharply with their jaws when the membranes of this region fled from the tip or hyoglossal of their mouth, shuddering from its sublingual base when they saw that the Mashiach carried Etréstles half-dead from the sea, amid so many prosaic waves consuming him from a breath that was separated from it by a thin layer of adipose cell tissue, and by the Middle Septum towards the definitive Seventh Heaven of God, speaking to them of spaces that will be filled by the magnanimous who have reaped him from his Eternalism. This was neither more nor less than the protruding border of the Messiah speaking through those mouths with insignia of enunciation, and portents of words of reconversion.
Battle of Patmia Synopsis Seventh
Phillip Walter Nov 2018
Shimmer
of eyeshadow
Pink
Lipstick on
white
cotton Tzitzit.
our own little

Jewish Romance.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tzitzit
Mateuš Conrad Jun 2018
.yiddi yiddi: breakdancing via the yod
to establish the mongrel language of
                                     yiddish in german,

since he always would speak with pronounced
  slavic accents that even, without a kippah...
   payots' worth of the rastafarian dread:

the ethopian connection, that's settled! applause!
what about that spaghetti drying piece?
  the tzitzit... spaghetti drying...
   or a collection of tapeworms...
i grew up above an estate agents
                     overlooking a synagogue...
21b beehive lane gants hills...
i'd notice the rat-imitation come yom kippur...
the orthodox would scuttle for a sly prayer...
in nike sneakers...
being unable to wear any animal leather:
whether shoes or belts or hats...
i watched, and i watched... sha! schtill!
come to think of it...
i like to think of the bastardißation
of hebrew via deutsche... yiddish...
i guess the hebrews began to blossom:
making themselves comfortable!
sha! schtill! as if, "as if" borrowing from pop culture:
ein botschaft von der taufel:
haben sie je getanzt mit ein rabbiner
                              im die blassmondlicht?!

    hobn tog
        zayn oyser aher...

                  that's the beauty of the jews...
nomads... or gypsies...
            casimir III understood this...
lucky parrots...
or parrots in general...
                    but i can't imagine
that much of yiddish survives in modern
hebrew...
israel: he who struggles with god...
of course i would be drawn to judaism
away from christianity...
   why would i succumb to islam if
the only plus is the antithesis of usury?
as a proselyte i'd be treated by the muslims
in the way that the janissaries were,
and the mamluks were treated...
bangladeshi slave labour in the u.a.e.?
        for every rabbi a guardian devil...
  
   un oyb em horav tantz?!
                             ikh tsu veln tentsl!
   (mirtseshem)...

cheap joke:
   a jew a nomad and a gypsy walk
into a bar...
'we're not going anywhere,
anywhere but here,
all that anywhere is is this everywhere
that's already bound to a carousel...
and is less a people,
a people with bureucracy...
a nation... we're here for the folk...
the people can do what
people do when they need to be
people and when
being a people is not enough...'

                        loyt neyn farshribn din...


out of the 2 slaps i received on
                                                           my face:
                       one was justifiable...
at a party, drunk,
        showing the *******
at the host...
  (i remember sharing
music tastes with her only two years
prior...
            big into mortiis,
   and that german guy who
made an abandoned warehouse
                    his home)...
                              fair enough:
that sort of slap you appreciate -
like a coffee in the morning...
but the first slap?
           that was the jealous,
   suspcious one...
                as if i had another woman
on the sly, in a different country...
and there i was thinking:
this is the thanks i get for all
the *******, home-made dinner
                                 and what not?
beside the point...
   so i wanted to tell the two apart...
two nights ago
   i started pounding my face
                              with 20 punches...
only today has a slightly plum eye
emerged... (when you're doing it yourself
there's less velocity) -
    sorry it's not a proper bashing
in a brawl:
                 apparently the hand moving
back with an intention
of a clenched hand is not as effective...
    i wanted a line-them-up
argument...
                        the ******* had to be
found somewhere along the way...
20 punches and a black-eye later?
    the slap that came from:
probably my best ****-and-****-with
anatomy of a woman's body?
   20 punches later:
   the slap still stings...
         like drumming in the rain...
    snappy...
          pulverising with a resonance
that only raindrops and the drummer's
sticks might
                   rekindle, to the effect of:
                       simultaneously.          
nothing's changed...
   in a bowling alley we used to run
into walls...
until one of us pierced the plaster-board
(me)...
                   but how
desperate do you have to be...
to make amends for a slap in the face
   with 20 punches of your own
mea culpa...
                                   circa 11 years later?
not to mention:
you have to ease the knuckles
              into being bruised...
                    before an honest face
mash-up?
                            comes a brick wall...
to level the knuckles...
     meaning that the 4th is slightly bruised.
that one slap, from Eleanor i
can understand...
                  that other slap from Ilona?
hence my 20 punches...
         and, my my:
    how the world is -
      without any "why" -
                              and this mishmash of hows;
hard not to join the queue
            of addressing painting on
                     an already painted canvas!

perhaps with the muslims...
we could explore... like we did with the jews...
we all know what happened to
the muslim population of europe,
once upon a time...
in the Balkans... when the Serbs (sleeping
Nazis) did with the muslims...
but these current mulsims?
  aren't they trying to find the short-cut?
they're going for the short-cut...
the jews never lent themselves to shortcuts...
me learn rigid arabic?
  look how hebrew adapted in german:
it became yiddish...
  maybe i'm blind...
but i don't see arabic bending the knee
to mongrel itself with some
european language...
  all i see are pseudo-arabic speakers...
english accent and one or two words
of arabic...
             if the arabs adapt...
mongrel bastardise themselves like the jews
did to become yids...
and create yiddish...
    no problem!
                       but these puritans won't...
where am i? in england, or saudi arabia?!
hell... might as well be talking to turks,
after all... they were the only muslims who
figured: it's best to adapt the latin script
if we are to control the balkans and greece...

the rest of the camel jockeys
should look into learning some mandarin
to compete for the most complex phonetic
encoding with the most:
   displeasing aesthetic of resulting speech;
arabs and the chinese:
sure... it looks amazing on paper!
until they open their mouths...
the beauty sooner than soon
fizzles out.
Jonathan Moya Feb 2020
It was chanted for five Sabbaths in a row
in the small synagogue with the charred bimah,
ashes staining the tzitzits of the rebbe’s tallit,
as he raised his arms above his head, closed his eyes
and sang the first alaf of seven thousand dabars,
the oral memory passed down six generations,
a psalm for a hundred sabas and savtas,  
abbas and eemas, nursery rhymes for ben and bat,
stopping, receding, picked up again, one by one
from cantor to congregant in a low moan
until all nine hundred thousand silenced voices
of Treblinka sang in the knesset’s bright light.  
    

bimah-  lectern from which the Torah is unscrolled on
tzitzit- the knotted fringes of a Hebrew prayer shawl
tallit- a Hebrew prayer shawl worn by rabbis
alaf- the first letter of the Hebrew alphabet
dabar- Hebrew for word
saba- grandfather
savta- grandmother
abba- father
eema- mother
ben- son
bat- daughter
knesset- the members of a synagogue

— The End —