Once upon a time in my life, I was a good little Jewish girl from an affluent parkside penthouse on the Upper East Side of Manhattan. Then I turned twelve and listened to my first punk record. Okay, actually it was a cassette (remember those?) but you get the drift. For the next few years I denounced everything. My religion. My family. My faith and hope and, as some would have said, my eternal soul, or whatever that thing is. I ran away from home at fifteen, and headed out west. I met some boys, and we did things I probably should not have been doing at fifteen and sixteen. I went down to Mexico and did a lot more things, both boys and drugs and such, that I should not have been doing. At this time I was going by the name of Cherry Bomb. I actually had some believing that it was my real name. Said I was raised by CBGB-loving 'rents. Anyway, the basic fact is that I was what one would call a troubled teen. Eventually, my parents tracked me down in Modesto California, a few days before my seventeenth birthday, and made me come back to my old life in NYC. As a girl filled with typical Jewish guilt, I did indeed go back to that life of the good and proper young lady. I finished high school - a school of nothing but girls by the way, where I did some other things I probably should not have done (yeah, you get my drift) - and entered a good college and all that proper young Jewish American Princess crap. Dated and such. Then suddenly, on my twentieth birthday, I ran off and married I sweet gentile boy. This was just to piss off my family once again. I do feel kind of bad that I used poor Joey like that, and then just tossed him away after a few months of marriage. But anyway, cut to three failed marriages later, a world of travel and decadence and drugs and d-i-v-o-r-c-e, and here we are in the waning days of 2013. I am Esther Rosneblatt. This is my introduction, and this is my blog. Let's have some fun. I only occasionally call myself Jewish these days (I really am a fickle bitch) so I am a pert-time shiksa, hence the title of my blog. I don't really know what the thing is going to be about yet. I am certainly not going to keep talking about myself, so don't worry about that. But what I am going to talk about? Damn if this girl knows. Nail polish? Shoes? Sex? Boys? Girls? The socio-political climate of post-millennial America? Shoes? Let's keep thinking, shall we. Until then, I am the Cherry Bomb (part time) Shiksa.
Ya know, sometimes - no, make that all the fuckin' time - ya just gotta be yourself, and do things for yourself, and not give a flyin' fuck what others think of ya. You're a great lady no matter which part you're playin' at, and don't ya forget it, babycakes. I may play at bein' the asshole - and ya know that's been true fer years now - but that don't mean I don't love ya like you was one o' my bestest friends evah. Keep it real girl. Esther, Cherry, whatever ya wanna call yourself. Jew, gentile, Buddhist fucking monk. Whatever. Of course none o' this means I know what ya should write about. Hell, I only put pretty pictures on my blog, so what the fuck do I know? Now, that's enough o' me bein' with the niceties. It's beginning to hurt a little. See ya, my Cherry Bomb Shiksa beast.
ReplyDeleteI cannot believe I am getting sincerity from the Dangerman. I do appreciate it though. You are a good friend when you want to be. Of course I am a bitch half the time myself. Thank you for the love. I'll let it rest now. I don't want you to hurt yourself. And no, I still have no idea what I'm going to write about.
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