Wednesday, January 28, 2015

Good morning, All! Welcome to the MashUp for 29 January 2015: the 9 of Pentacles, the 3 of Swords and lensing in from the edge of the precipice is 0 The Fool. (Today’s deck is le “Tarot du Doux Crépuscule* [Tarot of the Sweet Twilight] by Cristina Benintende & LWB by Barbara Moore. It’s a quirky deck – not AS quirky as Deviant Moon, but its “rinsed,” almost-1940’s-style images are just odd enough to knock you into a second look. Weird, I “kind of” like it, ask me again in a year or three.) Well! This is so clear I am just floored. I shall suffer a sharp, particular pain, which I have inflicted upon myself, which will result in great financial prosperity for me, and the Fool is urging me to hurry up and push my Aunt (signified by the cat) over the cliff. The good fortune in this is emphasized by the Chinese fortune cookie in the tree. Genius! You know, this readin’ these here Tarot cards ain’t so hard after all, by cracker! Actually, NATURALLY, that isn’t what I see or feel here. I see that my “girls” are rather pouty and low slung as I sling a bag of coin and/or magic around my neck and venture out into Jetsonville. (If the Fool was accompanied by a dog, as in most decks, would she have worn a dog mask? What in the Hell could this card have to do with Catwoman?) Other than feeling sleekly self-satisfied and extremely comfortable in the 3-D world of their physical comfort, that is. The 9 is really about what success I may have had in constructing myself with the materials given; I think I’ve done better than damn-well, to speak the truth. Bringing Balance to that crazily weighted sac of carnival items with which I was presented was one hell of a task, and I’m STILL working on it. Really, though, I have no right to complain too loudly, except to carp & cavil a bit about the astronomical physical price one pays for having survived and grown: as you cross the Point of No Return, you realize more and more that your body is your billfold or wallet, and that Fate/Karma is spending your money at a fucking FRIGHTENING rate. Health becomes a living concept instead of an abstract. I LOVE the 3 of Swords card, I always have (don’t forget, Swords are ALWAYS showing up clustered around me, it’s my “default” suit; which goes a long way towards explaining the cyclonic impression my life can give.) Like most people, I have known great interior pain (exterior, too, but I’m still too exhausted running from the exhibits over at ‘Ze Jurassique Parc’ just outside of Marseille to talk about it.) But the thing about inner pain isn’t that it scares me; I scare myself because I feel a kind of strange, quiet contentment running underneath it that is practically addictive. I want to stay. Plus, I’m a BIG fan of “melancholy.” I get the greatest kick out of that swoony, moody pretention; it requires not a little acting skill, an extensive wardrobe of black, and a large fortune to indulge your caprices for night journeys to haunted ruins. I don’t suffer from this particular pretention, but I do so enjoy watching those who do. Watching this Waltz of the Two Behaviors is our psychiatrist, the Fool. I didn’t have to think about what profession he practices, it came to me instantly. They are ALWAYS far more disturbed than their clients and just as crazy as batshit. But quite often they are very intelligent (if you can break the hold the Babblespeak drug has upon them), uniquely talented individuals. Hannibal Lecter “is” a rarity, thank the gods. And I don’t want to mock the Fool too much; he is, after all, Me! I DO “tread the path of life with joy in my heart and a smile on my lips,” I do! But that ain’t all, folks! If that was all, then dress me up as Shirley Temple and pimp me on the Place de Pigalle in Paris. On a side note, I must admit that I’m not overly fond of the Fool in this deck: it’s a marionette, exactly the OPPOSITE of the liberated spirit undertaking the start of the Journey. Somebody ELSE is in control; the cat doesn’t want to warn me as much as play with my leg string and what the HELL is that caught in the tree? A condom? A fortune cookie? One of those corn cone snacks? A diaphragm? “I ain’t eatin’ it pa. You can whup me if’n you want, but I ain’t eatin’ it!” Well, I’m outta here. I’ve got a day to which I must attend.


 

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