Showing posts with label Tarot. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Tarot. Show all posts

Wednesday, April 16, 2014

A Love Letter to Having a Day

Dear Having a Day,

Jesus fuck I love having a day.

Requirements for having a day include:

1) totally unplanned
2) probably hungover
3) two or more persons, at least one of which is displaced from their normal residence by at least 500 ft
4) hilarity

It's not necessarily that you are hilarious (although I'm always hilarious, natch) when you're having a day, it's more that, like, when you're having a day, everything is hilarious. Having a day is something we invented. A term we assigned? No, something we Named.

When we have a day we tend to speak in primitive basics: "We are people and we are having a day."

It's never "Hey, can we have a day tomorrow?" It's always "Come play! We are having a day." Sometimes we try to plan it, but whenever we plan we fail.

Sometimes we can see having a day up ahead like a silhouette at sunset, our terrible, inevitable future: "Uh oh, Rassles. We're going to have a day tomorrow aren't we?"

"Yes, Schmee. I'm afraid we might."

Bloomingdale Trail. I found this on the google, I have no idea who took it. Rad though, yeah?
Sometimes having a day is just wandering around petting strangers' dogs, or an impromptu bar crawl in rain, or deciding to get drunk but instead we just sit around watching Back to the Future MST3K-style. Sometimes we go to Chinatown. Sometimes we walk down the street and collect high-fives. Sometimes we accidentally end up at the Circus Museum in Baraboo. Sometimes we hike the Bloomingdale trail, but not anymore because they're turning it into a sensible, three-mile elevated park. Chicago loses its wilderness foot by foot, day by day.

Sometimes we go see a psychic who tells us that throughout our childhood our usually-absent father, with whom we do not get along, had a secret family in Georgia, and because of his sins we are cursed to never find love unless we pay the psychic $45 a week so she can light giant candles and meditate and cleanse us of our misfortune and woe. Sometimes that psychic describes, in detail, our damaging miscarriage (????????WHUUUT??????). She says we have good business sense, we love our job cuz its what we do best, we do not enjoy reading and are not terribly creative. Sometimes that psychic also says that no man will love us because we are too ugly and intimidating (it was 6pm and I smelled like PBR and my soft pants had schnauzers on them) so we might want to consider settling with a woman just so we aren't so lonely anymore. Sometimes psychics are stupid fucking cunts that try ruin our day, but they fail, and do you know why? Because we are having a fucking DAY, that's why.

Nothing can ruin a day. Spending $25 on a shitty tarot card reading is worth it, and plus? Awesome. She did not list a single accurate or recognizable trait of mine. It was like the exact opposite of a psychic, treading water in the toilet of lies. Seriously, did this witch divine vibes from a stranger on the sidewalk? Who was this stranger? Can I meet her? Would we be friends? I doubt it, we have nothing in common, and half of my apartment is books. Also, absent father? You kidding me? My dad worked from home. I saw him every day. Too ugly to be in a relationship with a man? Foolish, fuckeyed, gypsy harpy, your mystic science is stuh-rate up slander.

But none of that matters, because Sara and I were having a day.

Sometimes when we're having a day we buy all of the champagne at CVS and drink on the porch and yell at people on the street so they'll join us in our day. Sometimes we stay in and turn off all the lights and drink bloody marys and watch Buffy. Shooting the shit, being an idiot within the safe confines of your friends.

It occurs to me that the majority of them when I'm having a day, Schmee is there. Well done, Schmee. We are people and we are good at things.

Love,

Rassles


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This Love Letters series is for true. Click here for the list so far.

Thursday, July 10, 2008

Balls Wild

Don't know if you all know this about me, but once I develop a slight interest in something I go balls wild and learn all I can about that one thing.

Right now that one thing is Tarot.

Stop me.

I love it.

No, stop.

Fuck.

I'm about seven minutes from buying my own deck. Looked at about ninety something different card designs. I'm pretty sure I have images of all 78 arcana imprinted in my brain, and I definitely have memorized the historical narrative of the Fool and how he encounters each major arcana, their lessons, and how it relates to the interpretation of the cards.

Oh god. Please don't let me go all veiny Willow.

Help.

But wouldn't it be fun to do readings for the Circus and the Whores? Of course it would. Would I even get them correct?

Who cares?

It'll be like Junior High sleepovers, where we play "Light as a feather, stiff as a board" and eat cookie dough and play Tarot.

No, Ross, you're twenty-seven. Stop acting like a twelve year old.

But twelve was soooo much fuuu-uuh-uuuhn.

Dammit. Lame.

...

Wednesday, July 9, 2008

Self-Centeredation

Dear Friends,

Thinking this now: I need to stop obsessing over Tarot cards. It's getting very unfortunate. Every ten seconds I'm all, "and you should listen to me, because I'm psychic and a messenger and transdimensional." Granted, it's said in complete jest, since I don't believe it, but inevitably it will get old.

Here's the most unfortunate aspect of the entire Tarot reading: I love talking about it. Love. It makes me feel good about myself, thinking that there is one person in the world (Lady mf Caitlyn) who believes in me. Not that no one else does, but it's just nice hearing fun things about yourself, and whether they're true or not is irrelevant. It's comforting knowing that someone took the time to think about me, and actually hearing about it.

I like being contemplated, and if said contemplation leads to complimentation, more power to it, but if not it does not matter. I just like it. Makes me feel important, somehow. More important than some Tarot card reader at a Renaissance Fair telling me I'm important. It's just that...for twenty minutes of her life, she focused on mine.

It wasn't like when you try talking to someone and they spend the whole time relaying their personal experience instead of talking about yours.

But then, I paid her to talk about me. I want to pay more people to talk about me.

I am very self-centered.

Would anyone like to donate to the Rossi Talks To Psychics fund?

Better idea: I'm giving homework. Everyone go get their cards read, so we can all compare notes. Just take your bar cash and blow it on a wad of Tarot. Even if you don't believe in it, it's like, best ego booster ever. If the reader is wrong, fuck 'em, hilarity is king. If the reader is right, then we've found ourselves a psychic, and must promote their supernatural abilities a la Miss Cleo and Sonya Fitzpatrick. Seriously.

Sincerely,


Rossi

Cc: Lady Caitlyn, Miss Cleo, Sonya Fitzpatrick

...

Monday, July 7, 2008

Tarot and interdimensional travel.

So Renaissance Fair was inescapably ridiculous.

Yeah, I went to Renfair with Phil and Tokyo. I know I'm going to get some mockin' and dealin' (cause I am most ill and I'm rhymin' and stealin') but seriously, shut up. Ya'll got nothin, and sometimes I'm bored.

Sometimes I just want to get drunk and make fun of people.

But the best part about it was not people watching all of the fairies and knights and beer wenches, although beer is good and outfits are hilarious. It was just neat that they all came together, behaved however they wanted, and it was fun. Just a positive atmosphere.

All that mattered was that everyone had a good time and I had lots of booze. I know I would never get all dressied up in Renaissance garb.

Yeah, I know. I am lame. But seeing people the way they want to be seen is somehow refreshing. And of course, fucking ridiculous (never going again, unless prompted by free alcohol the promise of a free ride and hilarity).

I discovered several things at Renfair:

1. I am awesome at throwing battle axes, and not so good at knives.
2. Mead is only delicious when hot and from Gold Star. Renfair mead can suck an elf.
3. The louder you are, the funner the Mud Show.
4. Firewhips are the shit.
5. Tarot readings are capable of existing in one of the following two planes of correctness:
(a) They are accurate, insightful, eerie looks into the nature of the client
(b) They are scheming, thieving plots to take advantage of gullible and/or drunken patrons

Being the kind of person that only makes sensible decisions, I resolved to get a Tarot reading, for reasons ternary: Drunk, never done it before, why the fuck not?

Dropped twenty for this reading. Totally worth it. I do not believe in it...the most wonderful part about the entire thing was the it was explicitly obvious that Lady Caitlyn believed everything she said about me. She was actually extremely excited I was there. It was fucked up.

Here's the gist:

First off, we introduce ourselves and right off the bat, she was all, "Oh, this is going to be fun. You have very psychic tendencies."

Pah.

She goes on to talk about the history of the giant ass cards she's using, how this reading is going to cover the next year of my life, and the relevance of the Tarot spread she's giving me as she shuffles the cards.

She says I can shuffle them if i want. I do, and she's very impressed at my ability to make a kick ass bridge, and she tells me to hold the deck, close my eyes, and clear my mind. So I do what I always do when it's time to clear my mind and focus on singing Jingle Bells in my head. Don't ask me why, shit just works. Then I cut the deck into three piles.

Lady C gives me an seven card set-up. First card is neatly and quietly turned over. At the bottom it says Indolence. Apparently, I think I am much lazier than I actually am. Slow down, stop trying to put so much into my life, take more time for me, because it's okay. Then something about water. I need to leave some things behind and focus more on me rather than the people and situations around me. Bullshit.

Next card was Art...that was just downright eerie. Basically, she said: "This card is sometimes called Temperance. You are a constant agent between two sides, inside of yourself and outside. You automatically mediate relationships with your friends and family and situations you are in, and see connections and balance in conditions that aren't obvious to others."

Sidenote: I feel like the whole "connection" thing is just something everyone automatically does, and is not something unique to me. But judging by my last few blogs, you know...that's just weird.

So then, Lady C smiles very girlishly and says, "This is very, exciting, isn't it?" She peeks under the next card, looks at me and smiles again, and flips it over. "You are much more important than you think. To everyone. To your friends, your family, your work, and" (well) "the world."

I scoff.

"You really are. Until you accept your importance, you won't reach your purpose. But it's obvious, especially with the previous two cards, and now the High Priestess...you are a messenger."

I'm all, "Okay."

"But you have to accept that role, because it's who you are. You cannot shun your nature." She goes on to talk about how one of the reasons my role as a mediator can be so successful is because of my ability to tell what people are thinking.

(Life would be so much neater if that were true.)

She's all sorts of worked up at this point, like she's really enthusiastic about reading for me. She holds up the next card in her left hand, glances sideways at it, grins all toothily and snaps the card back down on the pile. "You're going to fall in love."

So I start laughing, and shake my head, because really, how fucking ridiculous is that?

She's still smiling. "You've never been in love before, and this is going to be big for you. And you have to do it. Ross--please pay attention. I know you're skeptical, but you have to do this, and just let go. It's imperative for you to grow. But you have to let him in. Do not be afraid of being vulnerable."

I am like, cracking up inside, and take several sips (liar) I down my beer.

"Are you ready?"

My beer is gone. "Go ahead, man."

"Now this is rare...this is the Wish card." (to me, it looks like nine cups and says Happiness) "For awhile, your desires will come true. You can make them happen, but you must be specific in your requests. You can shift your world in your direction, but you have to want it, and you cannot be afraid to ask."

Goody. I win.

She's a little confused looking as she flips over the next card, and nods. It's the Moon. "You dream very vividly and intensely."

Now this is fun. "Well, yeah."

"You're able to open your mind to psychic possibilities very easily, and you should learn how to use it. Some believe that when we dream, we travel to other dimensions. You've already done this once today."

(Remember the time when I ate a fucking SUN?)

"When I asked you to clear your mind, you did it without effort. Nearly immediately. When we're free from thought, we're free to roam between dimensions. I sense you do this quite often."

I'm thinking, what, like space out?

Then I spaced out a little and took the time to memorize the exact positioning of cards and what was on them, and I totally don't remember the next thing she said.

She's pointing to the Indolence card and the Moon, and she says, "There will be a significant shift in your home, but in a good way, one that makes you more comfortable. Are you moving? Perhaps you are just redecorating in a way that suits your personal style and makes your home more your own. Even rearranging furniture, or having a yard sale and losing major pieces of decoration. Or painting the walls. But we know that this will be good for you," she points to Happiness, "Because it will allow you to blossom into who you're supposed to be."

Last card: Empress. Lady C smiles. "You will receive a message from a maternal figure in your life...mother, grandmother, aunt...she could be here with us or in the Heavenly Realm. Perhaps she will visit you in a dream. Either way, she will speak to you. The relevance of the message is up to you."

Then she launches into this fast-talking spiel about how I need to explore my psychic abilities, and how she's not sure how I would fare in a spiritual realm, but I'm very sensitive to earthly vibes or something. If I want to try a more ethereal approach to my gift, I could, because I could possibly do well, but my strength lies in reading people and relationships.

And don't forget the badassery of interdimensional travel, bitches. How cool would that be? I'm going to fucking Middle Earth, or the Marvel Universe, or some other one that we've never even heard of.

With my brain.

She stops for a breath, still smiling. "Can I ask you? When is your birthday?"

"January 6th."

"Really? You have the emotions and intuition of a water sign. But I guess that explains your skepticism. You're very cautious about your own feelings and how others perceive you."

True, true.

"Well, thanks for the reading, and it was nice meeting you. This was fun."

"The pleasure was all mine, Ross. Don't forget your importance. They need you."

I laugh. I am drunk. "I won't." Now that I'm thinking about all the cards, I'm surprised I didn't get one card that's associated with the masculine. It was all chalices and the moon and priestesses and shit. Anyway. I turn to go.

"Oh, and Ross?"

"Yeah."

"Have fun falling in love."

Arrrrrggghh.

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