You can get there from here.

I haven't been using this blog, but you can read me here:

or at my web page, which is where you'll find the excerpt of "Touch Not the Hog" mentioned on Janice Lynn's site. (Thanks, Janice!)

The Hierophant (reversed)

I listened to Lou Reed's "Transformer" album today, and have decided that Lou is my new charismatic religious leader. All the wisdom you need can be found in his song lyrics, though it's often vague and drug-trippy, much like Revelations. But he does occasionally lay it on the line in a song... "Life is good, but not very fair." Wow. Doesn't get much more profound than that. In following the Way of the Reed, I decided to see what Lou is up to these days and made a pilgrimage to LouReed.com. I was excited by the heading, "Lou's Views," thinking that here was the codified doctrine I sought, but it turned out to be his own line of glasses, soon to be on sale in Italy (a well-known hotbed of religion). As far as music is concerned, Lou is touring the UK and the East but, in the manner of a true prophet, is apparently not celebrated in his own country (wait til he dies).

All religious leaders morph from jerky assholes to compassionate, world-weary souls. Lou is no exception. And he asks so little. Just buy a pair of his specs, please.

Knight of Cups

Are there Tarot poems? Of course. Here's a good one.

Five of Cups

There's a Baseball Tarot (which is actually quite wonderful), there are unauthorized Disney and Buffy the Vampire Slayer Tarot decks. And of course, there are a couple of unauthorized Harry Potter Tarots (in the initial stages). But I can't seem to find a Nascar Tarot, a Monster Truck Tarot or a WWF Tarot. Huh.

Two of Wands

So you think your Tarot collection is complete? I don't think so. Not unless you have the Pet Tarot (is this the deck Anna uses? Or Marisa Tomei's cat?) and the Fantastic Shoes Tarot. At which point, you'll need the twelve-step program for Tarot collectors.

Also, don't forget to get your free reading from Kylini, of the world famous Psychic Puppy Network. Mercy.

King of Cups (Not)

Here you go. The three-card-monty spread, for beer.

The Fool

Home for a quick lunch. I'm so stuffed up from some kind of freakin' allergy, I don't remotely sound like myself. People probably think I'm channeling.

Here's a tip: If you want to strike up easy conversations on airplanes and in dentist waiting rooms, buy yourself a deck of Tiny Tarot cards. You can get them here and keep them on your keychain. It works...oh...six out of ten times. It helps if you're good-looking, but doesn't that help everything?

Two of Coins

So I had a client today who was a schizophrenic, although I didn't know it right away. First of all, I have to ask - who gives a schizophrenic fifty bucks to go out and get his cards read? I mean, if you sent him to play the ponies, you might at least get some of your money back. And why does this guy need me to tell him inventive stories about his future? He can beat me at that any day.

Luckily, I was reading at the New Age store today, so I didn't have to worry about getting him to leave at the end of the appt. He showed up, maybe a little odd looking in that he had his hair parted way over on one side and his pants cuffs were a little high. But I'm not here to give fashion advice. Unless that's what they want. Anyway, he sat down very politely and said, "I have a question about my bathroom."

This is not a typical question, so, just in case he was some joker who wanted to waste my time, I said, "I have a client right after you. Would you mind paying in advance so she doesn't have to wait?"

He dug in his pocket and brought out his wallet. Gave me a twenty, two fives, and twenty one-dollar bills. On the side of each dollar bill was a tiny, torn hole, right at the top of the pyramid.

He saw me looking at the holes. "That's where the eye was. They watch me if I don't tear them out."

"What about the eagle?" I asked.

"Eagles look good, but they aren't very smart."

I turned one of the bills over. "What about George?"

He eyed me like I was crazy. "He's the Father of our Country!"

"Sorry," I said. "I forgot." I knew what I had, at that point. Let me say that I've met a few schizos in my time, and they have all been completely harmless, sad people, who will simply talk your ear off about Santa, aliens or God until you get up and walk away. This particular schizo had just paid me fifty bucks. "So what's the deal with your bathroom?" I asked.

He leaned forward and whispered, smelling not unpleasantly of licorice. "I need to know if they've discovered the trap yet."

I dealt out five cards. It doesn't take a ten-card spread to tell if a trap's been discovered. For all I knew, he was talking about actual plumbing. Knight of Swords, Temperance, Justice, Three of Cups, and the Lovers. Fascinating.

I tapped the Knight. "Have you had a messenger?"

"Oh, yes. I get those all the time."

I looked at the speeding Knight. "This one would have spoken really fast."

He looked interested. "Really? Usually, they talk so slowly, I have to record them on a cassette and fast forward it to understand what they're saying."

"Then I'd say this messenger is in the future." I looked at Temperance. "And he or she will come with an offer of compromise."

He looked a little angry. "That's fine. Really fine. After all this time and money, to be talking about compromise." His voice rose. "You tell them..."

"I'm just reading the cards. You're the one who's going to get a messenger. You can tell them yourself."

"Oh. That's right. I remember now. Or I will. Go on."

The next card was Justice. I pointed to it. "This time, the compromise will be a fair one. You should listen to it. Give them a chance to explain."

He shook his head. "I don't know. The last time I listened, there was all that smoke, and I got told never to sit that close to the television again."

Oh, great. Someone was going to find me next week and ask why I told this poor guy to try to flush his foot down the john. "Let me look at this again. I may have missed something," I said. The next card was the three of cups - three women dancing around, toasting each other. "Ah," I said. "Do you know three women? Maybe they live with you?" I was thinking he must have a couple keepers.

"No."

"You don't know three women? Three isn't very many. Most people know six or eight at least."

"Oh! Women. Yes. I know three women."

"These would be women who live very close to you. Maybe even in the same building."

He nodded. "In the bathroom."

"No, these will be outside women. Women other people can see."

"Oh, you mean Patty and her helpers."

I nodded. "That's the ones." I looked back down at the cards. Where was I? "Right. So the messenger will come with a fair compromise, but you'll need Patty and her helpers to interpret it for you." I looked at the three dancing women with their cups raised. "A bottle of wine might help."

"I don't like wine, but they wouldn't let me have any even if I did. They never let..."

I cut him off. "Do you like grape juice?"

He brightened. "The white kind. It's magic, because they take the color out."

"You're a smart guy. Most people don't know that." Did they take the color out? I thought it just came from those pale grapes. I'd have to look that up. "Well, offer Patty and her helpers some grape juice and ask them to interpret the message."

"Okay. Will I have to be naked?"

Oh boy. "You should absolutely not be naked, because if you do, the missing color from the grape juice will stain your private parts and people will laugh." He looked pretty scared at this, but I was determined to take nakedness off the table. Then I remembered we were talking about a bathroom issue. "But you can still be naked when you go to the bathroom - at least the parts of you that need to be naked. Do you understand what I mean? Just don't take your grape juice in there with you. Or Patty."

"That wouldn't be very hygenic," he said.

I assumed he was talking about the juice. I couldn't speak for Patty. "That's right." I looked at the cards. It was fairly tiring trying to stay on top of this conversation. "And our last card - this is the important one - is The Lovers. Do you see the angel in the background?"

"I see angels all the time," he whispered.

The guy was breaking my heart. "Well, the messenger is going to come with a proposal of marriage. That's going to be the compromise. If you want, you can marry someone from their side and keep her with you all the time, even though she'll be invisible to most people. It's like when a prince from one country marries a princess from another country, so they can stop having wars."

He looked amazed. "I never thought of that. And I'm the prince."

"I could tell that right away about you. So what I suggest is that you go home and make a little gift. Something pretty, maybe with some aluminum foil to make it shiny."

"And flowers," he said.

"Definitely flowers. You could even cut the aluminum into flower shapes." Should I be encouraging this guy to use scissors? "Or maybe, you know, just scrunch it into crinkly flower shapes. That might be even prettier. And that's it. We're done!"

He started to get up. "Just a minute," I said. "You weren't here very long, so I'm not going to charge you full price." I looked at my watch and counted out thirty-five bucks. Then it occurred to me that he might come back every damn day, since I was so amiable. I handed him the money and looked around. "But I want to warn you about something. If you come back and there's someone here who looks just like me, but she doesn't remember any of this, then you need to leave, because that's my evil twin and she'll tell you lies and overcharge you."

He gave me a suspicious look. "You don't have an evil twin."

"Yes, I do. Honest." I nodded like crazy.

"If you don't want to do another reading for me, you can just say."

Jesus. And people say I don't earn my money.

Eight of Coins - Apprenticeship

What does it take to be a successful Tarot reader? A lot of people would tell you that it takes compassion and a sincere desire to help people. That might be what it takes to be a responsible Tarot reader, but to make money as a Tarot reader, all you really need is a good imagination, a knowledge of human nature, and a deck of cards. People come to a reader because they need to talk about themselves. If you can tell them wonderful stories on that subject, they'll leave happy. If you can tell them wonderful stories that have a chance of coming true, they'll come back over and over again.

The High Priestess

It's a brand-new hour, and thanks to the magic of blogging, I can now tell you about my life as a single-white-female tarot reader. Take that, video-store clerks and sex workers. Actually, being a tarot reader isn't that different from being a sex worker. People still pay you an hourly rate to dress a certain way and tell them lies. As far as costuming goes, I have opted for "Mildly Mystic." This involves a lot of flowing rayon in reds, purples and blacks, but a noticeable lack of skull-themed jewelry. In fact, the only jewelry I wear is a silver rabbit charm on a long chain. When people ask about it, I either tell them: a) it's because I was born in the Chinese year of the rabbit, b) it's because my spirit guide is a wild hare, or c) my mother's nickname for me is "Bunny." The truth is, every successful Tarot reader I've met has had a signature piece of jewelry, and when I set about cold-bloodedly looking for one, this rabbit caught my eye. Not only was it cheap, but it lacked any unhandy spiritual connotations. Mostly, it's a fabulous little sculpture - you can almost see the ears twitch. But try explaining the concept of "art" to someone who wants to know if her boyfriend is sleeping around or if it's the right time to put her ailing dog down. She doesn't care, and who can blame her? Mainly, the rabbit thing makes people feel cozy and doesn't scare the churchy types away.

The Fool

Peer pressure never made me drink too much or have sex before I was ready. My peers were mellow, safety-minded outsiders who couldn't see the point in taking uncomfortable risks. So I suppose it makes sense that one of the few things peer pressure could make me do is start a blog. It's a cautious, self-indulgent leap that has apparently resulted in fabulous book deals for sex workers and video-store clerks around the world. Apparently, all it takes is a fascinating life and the willingness to document it in flawless prose.

Let's take an inventory of what I have to work with:

An elderly cat with very few bad habits.
A well-adjusted, loving husband.
A close relationship with my parents.

Obviously, I will have to make stuff up.