Chapter 25

Chapter 25

My sitemeter climbed to hundreds of clicks a day. The blog appeared on other sidebar lists of “blogs I read.” I got busy googling my pseudonym. Very busy. People wrote to me. Someone said he lived in Canada, was married for the second time and struggling. Someone said she was Yemenite, left after being treated as second class citizens. Begreatful said she left, was out of the system but still enjoyed reading my blog. She was as friendly to me as the next person.  I struck up an email friendship with Leibish Chasid, a lurker, who was very opinionated in private. I imagined him to be tall and gaunt, Israeli, maybe with a stutter. He, like me, had no regard for spelling and was officially aligned against the blogs that churned out posts on hereticism. Like me, he was also critical of the rabbis. He was very learned, had smicha, the status denoted to those who passed the test in studies and were able to give religious ruling. He got what I was trying to do. I could talk to him. We commiserated on the two extremes we were caught between: sinners who went all the way, saints who went all the other way. There was an underappreciated middle in the domestic life of the pseudonymous Yoelish and me. Over a month of this insanity had passed. I thought it would be behind me by now, but the blog was too addictive.
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