Saturday, December 20, 2014

Good morning, All! Welcome to the MashUp for 20 December 2014: XIX The Sun, the 7 of Coins reversed, and lensing in the distance while she is also playing a game of quoits, we have the Queen of Coins, who is looking decidedly frumpy and a bit 3rd-World. (Today’s deck is *The Vision Tarot* by Tim Thompson.) To be frank, I woke this a.m. and began the morning ritual NOT particularly feeling like XIX the Sun; not enough sleep, feet trailing on the tiles like fresh baby squid just brought into a Greek port to be SLAMMED DOWN! onto the dock and have their brain pulverized, and the interior was feeling just kind of blah – okay, here we go, train-train (a French expression = “the daily grind”.) Feed the cats, prepare the coffee, blahblahyakyak. O-k-a-y, now, coffee cup at the ready, I go to my Tarot room and pull . . . XIX? Well, if you say so, perhaps latter in the day I’ll burst out from behind the darkening clouds, burning foolish vampires and lifting the hearts of flower-gathering, song-singing blonde young women on Austrian mountain meadows. But not right now. Our next soup-kitchen neighbor is the 7 of Coins reversed. Well, I’m certainly not harvesting today! As a matter fact, it seems that I am going to plummet to a depth of disappointment. Oh frabjous fucking joy. We turn the corner to see the Queen of Coins, who is supposed to be lensing for us, but is instead doing fuck-all holding her phony wheat denier and looking off dazedly into the distance and directly away from her morning companions. She could care less; she’s pining for a plate of Roadkill Enchiladas at the ‘Tucson CafĂ© & Gun Shoppe.’ Alright, class, let’s say it out loud and like we MEAN it – these cards do NOTHING for me today. Tarot burn-out. They aren’t speaking to me this morning and for the moment there isn’t anything I can do about it, until my lethargic heart reawakens. So I shall traverse and abide this uninspired moment. In order to kick it out even sooner, I MUST affirm to myself; I can be a radiant, loving being.

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