The other day I walked past my neighborhood fortune teller’s for the first time in months. She lived above a dry cleaner run by an Asian family, perhaps Korean but I am not quite sure on that. I looked up and noticed the curtains were gone. Presumably so was she, along with her family, which seemed to include one adult child and several grandchildren. I confirmed their parting with the dry cleaner people. They had no idea where she and her family were; they wouldn’t tell me when they’d left.
Now there is no way for me to check in with this woman, she of the sparkling auburn hair and shiny fur coat, she who may or may not have had a role in my recent fortunes, good and bad.
This has been an odd year, mixed and murkish. I feel elated and deflated about finishing my MFA. My work is humming along; strains of Peggy Lee’s “Is That All There Is” float in the background. Isaac is doing well in school, an enormous relief. I was nervous he might not figure out school to the degree he has. There are other things afoot, but I prefer to keep them to myself, for now.
I continue to enter sweeps, including one for seven nights in Australia’s Northern Territory. To enter, click HERE. This one, which promotes the film Ten Canoes, closes on January 11 per the Official Rules. This 2006 film, the first entirely in Aborigine idiom, looks fascinating.
Otherwise, I shadow the muse. Tuesday’s horoscope stokes possibility: Your mind is firing off images, memories and articulations a million miles a minute. You need a pen and pad at all times to capture your own brilliance. (Thank you, astrology columnist Holiday Mathis.)