Which means sometimes you kittenz pay the price in that you’re reading something that has no point! That’s one of the nasty things you don’t learn about writing until you’re on this side of the computer screen: sometimes writing means word-vomit on the page that is not inspirational, poetic, or even vaguely interesting to read. But, I owe this blog a blog and I seem to be a bit stuck on the pile of articles I’m supposed to write. So, this blog post probably won’t be the least bit informative or interesting, but writing for an audience gets me to do it, so thanks in advance for reading it!

Tarot is one of my favorite writing prompts. Whenever I can’t think of anything to say, the Tarot will make me think of something. If you want to try it, pull a card or a few cards. Whatever they inspire you to say, have at it. Here I go!

kingofswordsKing of Swords: Things That Piss Me Off.

  • My cats waking me up at 4:40 a.m., on the dot, each day, for a can of crappy wet food….and if I don’t get up within ten minutes of them pawing at my lips, one of them will knock my glasses and phone off the nightstand. Thanks, cats. They’re now banned from the bedroom, but they still sometimes find their way in.
  • Menstrual cramps. They made me break up with coffee. If I drink coffee, they ruin my life for 36 hours a month. Now, I don’t get my beloved coffee (which is better for my carbon footprint, actually) and they still pester me for maybe 12 hours or so.
  • When clients don’t show and expect a refund. Not okay.
  • When people expect me to read their minds. Whether figuratively, and just hoping I’ll “behave accordingly.” Or people at parties who find out I read Tarot and say something like, “Ooh! Tell me about the thing that happened to me in the fourth grade!” ‘Test the Psychic’ is an irritating, irritating game.
  • Roaches. Fuck roaches. Fuck fuck fuck roaches.
  • The fact that a reality show host is increasingly looking like a real contender for the leader of my nation which means my taxes might pay his salary. Fuck that guy. Fuck fuck fuck him.



The Hermit

The Hermit: #me

I used to limit myself to only going out four nights a week (excluding weekends). I got my second cat Matilda to keep my first cat company because she spent so much time alone, and it made me sad. Now, I’m tired and married and I spent all of my twenties carving grooves into the streets of NYC with the heels of my gogo boots. Now, there is nothing more appealing than being in my jammie-jams and blogging about Tarot. Except if one of you wants to bring me some wine. And none of that Yellowtail shit. Bring me some good Pinot or don’t bother. Wow. That was rude. Let me try again: I appreciate whatever you bring, so long as you leave it at the door and text me to let me know it’s there so I don’t have to break my solitude. P.s., I love you and appreciate you.


9ofCups9 of Cups: Ridiculous Humor 

I get laugh attacks generally on: day two of Moon Time, when the depressive hormones decrease and I get an unexplained boost of serotonin; if I’ve been cooking for hours and then start drinking (like at Thanksgiving); or when I’m dangerously close to finishing a manuscript and have little brain power. the following things have actually set me off for hours. It’s great for me and painful for everyone around me.

     Jimmy Fallon and Jack Black Sing The Douchiest Song of All
     The Matt Damon and Jimmy Kimmel Feud
     Paul Rudd does that Mac n Me thing to Conan

I guess I don’t have the most sophisticated sense of humor. Once, my Covener Wendi posted this meme on her Facebook page and I laughed for two hours, straight. I REALLY DID. Husband almost made me sleep on the fire escape.


Four of Cups: The Riddle of the Onion Beer Once, a friend of mine read my Tarot and got this card in reference to a party I was going to attend. She said, “Be careful of drinks. There may be something in one of them.” I partially ignored the advice because I also knew she didn’t like or trust any of the other attendees, at all. The party was at a bar and a server brought us the drinks. I thought nothing more about my friend’s prophecy.

But then, as I was reaching over a guy’s drink for a nacho, a pearl onion from one of the chips plopped into his beer while he was in the bathroom.  I said nothing. When he came back and sipped his beer, he made a face and asked the server to bring him another one. She did. If this had happened now, at 34, I would be a much better human and, first of all, would not reach for nachos over someone’s drink. If it happened, anyway, I’d fess up to the screw-up and buy the guy another beer. However, I was 24 and broke and also was kind of mad at the guy for something (can’t remember what) and so I said nothing. He drank the beer, made a face, and asked the server for another: “There’s an onion in this one!” She brought him a new drink and did not charge him.  No one was injured or fired. Little harm was done. But now you know all of my secrets. It’s okay to judge. I’d judge me, too.

But see how strangely Tarot readings can manifest? It’s not always how we think it will be, but that doesn’t mean it’s incorrect.

Friends in Colorado! I’m coming to see you! I’ll be speaking about “Brigid” on April 3 at Goddess Isis Books and Gifts. Please come hang with me! I promise I won’t drop onions in your beer.