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Tarot on Baker, etc
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Blog
- Hits: 385
News the past weekend.
Saturday, beautiful day and the streets are empty. Nonetheless I head down Baker and set up with a crystal ball and 5 decks of Tarot cards. My outfit, my grey "Andy Warhol" wig and a pair of oversized rave sunglasses with disco balls hanging from the ear.
I should blend in just fine.
I'm immediately pounced upon by a trio of 20-something girls, one 'tips' $15, the other nothing.
They like the "Hermetic" deck, the one who's symbolism is least to my taste.
This is the most popular deck, by far.
Next customer, younger guy, coming off addictions and waiting to start tree-planting. Again, no cash, but I'm not a fan of "Charging" and - really, if you take it as a spiritual practice than any attempts to monetize it become merely simony, and so like it or not I gotta suck it up. Anyways, a beautiful day and I'm meeting people.
One final senior, a proper Grandpa Simpson, he tips $10, then I'm treated to the story of his life..."in 18diddly-odd-seven when I was just a young Man and Napolean was ...." sort of stuff, without end, which brought my hourly revenue down to about 35 cents.
I was saved from this (and would otherwise still be there...) by a text from my daughter, she'd made it to town.
So, find her still wearing my wig and loud glasses, a bag full of tarot cards & props, make the "impression" that has her questioning why she's visited, out with her, make some dinner, catch up.
Sunday with her the same, I try to induce her to go prospecting, but she's heard the tales and isn't leaving town.
This town, at the moment, a ghost town. Nobody around. Baker empty the whole live long day, and you have to wonder where everyone is...soon enough it'll be busy.
Sunday night, turn her on to "Once Upon a Time in the West", by the time Charles Bronson shows up she's hooked, and by the end she has to concede it's a masterpiece. Not even watching it this time (she's watching it on my phone), merely listening to the scant dialogue, the sound effects, the music, leitmotifs, and - it's still a fucking masterpiece.
Monday, the daughter's off, lunch with Cathy (from the Alumni of Unspeakable Trauma), help her to line up some bar supplies, glasses for the golf course, a catch-up glass of wine and then I'm done.
I'm good with a little bit of people, but a little bit can turn into too much pretty quick.
Today, volunteer, the other two ladies I usually work with don't show, and I'm not sure there isn't a bit of fallout from Michael's 'resignation'. And - despite a follow up, no word as to my 'job' and so it's back to the drawing board, this cash thing, and stressing about it, 6 months is more than plenty enough, and I've got to get my thinker on tight and come up with another plan...
Dad, Daughter, on a Buckboard riding through...
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Dreams
- Hits: 1040
I'm in an old hotel (??), brick and mortar, big, down in the basement, and I'm with my daughter (young, toddler, under 5) and my father's on a buckboard, you know, old-styled horse drawn wagon, and he's going to be riding through and wants me to throw on my daughter...
She'll like this, and so sure enough he comes riding through and and I get her and a couple stuffed animals onto the seat, and then they're past me and I'm trying to catch up...
There's all sorts of things tripping me up, the hall's made narrow by an enamel wood burning stove, cupboards, and the wagon has knocked all the doors open and I'm wondering how it got through...
He'd driven it around the top of the hotel, the lobby, the beautiful light of the setting sun, summer, and I'm trying to snap a picture of him & the daughter on the wagon, golden hues against rich deep blues, the phone though, it's not working, can't seem to pull up my camera, and I'm trying to scrape off some duct-tape residue that must be interfering...
The daughter's coming towards me, herself now maybe 12 years old, and she's someone on her shoulders...
Outside, a beautiful garden, slivers of vanishing sunlight playing against the brick of the building, and again I'm trying to catch a photo, but this damned phone, camera...
And a Canada Goose flies right past me, into a deep green-blue hedge, and it changes there, into a silhouette of something else completely, something unreal, something formless that begins to sing...
(and I wake up, a beautiful dream and all attempts to get back to it fail...)
Cathy, Tickles, Michael
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Blog
- Hits: 312
News on all fronts.
First, the daughter's going to be passing through for a visit, Saturday, something to look forward to. I'm trying to persuade her to take a day and go prospecting with me, I've a few new destinations, but somehow the boy's prejudiced her - "Crystal Mountain?" she says, and assuring me her car isn't up to it...
My reputation precedes me.
Yeah, that was an adventure. And no, it's far too early, high up the mountain, top of the mountain, we'd never get close.
But no, I've new locations, sapphires, aquamarines, other crystal digs...
She's skeptical, she's heard how these things turn out. "Survivors!!! Every One!" I want to yell, but I'll save the pitch til she gets here.
Third, Michael ended his 7 year tenure at the thrift shop after an interview/meeting with the pastor. Circumstances unknown, staff aren't talking, I'm not sure that this was his choice. They've hired a lot of young people, 20's and 30 somethings, and so it was probably time, there were changes afoot and he wasn't ready for them. He hated the old guard, wasn't a fan of the new. Not that all change is positive, but - sometimes you need to have change forced upon you, and in hindsight it's a good thing. I'll have to sit down with Michael for a coffee, but at the moment it's probably a little too fresh for his liking, and so will wait for a natural run-in with him at Oso.
Fourth, Cathy, Alumni, found work at the Golf Course, she's loving it, saying they've done a terrific job redoing the inside, the place is now busy, the chef, doing a great job, a reasonable tip-out, a lot of the customers recognize her from the other restaurant. And their prices are very reasonable, and - knowing the other place, they'll have increased prices, reduced portions, every year another gouge, every year fewer and fewer customers willing to pay the high and higher prices, so the fact that it's reasonably priced is going to redirect a lot of the traffic up the hill.
That and given the absolute shite job they did last year of looking after it means a lot of people who formerly went there because there was nothing else will be going up the hill, they earned their bad reputation, I mean, they really earned it. So there's a choice, and a lot of people will boycott them for that now too, as if there weren't enough reasons to boycott them already.
So good news for her.
And Mr. Tickles, his car back from the mechanic, just got a job at a sawmill outside Salmo, I'd told him they were hiring, $25/hr to start, more money that I suspect he's earned in his life.
All round it's shaping up to be a great summer...
16 Psyche
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Found
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A brief summary of the wealth that lies unclaimed in the Asteroid belt between Mars and Jupiter.
Link: Wiki on Psyche 16
Link: Wiki on Asteroid Mining
Note that Psyche 16 is an M-Type Asteroid, being comprised almost entirely of heavy metals. Most of the precious metals on earth have already sunk through the crust and into the core, the possibility or theory then that Psyche 16 is a relic core from a planet implies that it is laden with precious metals.
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