Arts Today in Curses
posted by March 22 at 15:04 PMon
This is the sentence that caused the most trouble:
She is loud and exuberant and says she is an ex-biker (divorced from a Bandido), a heavy-metal fan, and a recovering boozer.
She says she never said anything about being a boozer. Says she isn’t a boozer. And I am so, so, really, genuinely sorry if I fucked that up. Because that is a big, bad way to fuck up.
But I could’ve sworn she said she was a recovering alcoholic. And how she “had to hit bottom” and how she turned her life around and learned to love herself (and, along the way, talk to the dead). Her whole schtick is the back-from-the-brink-with-a-message-of-hope persona. (Anybody else see the show? Can anyone back me up here?) It’s even in the notes I took while she was talking:
ex-biker. married a bandido. drugs, alcoholic.
I don’t know how I got that wrong, but I apparently did. And I’m sorry for that.
Lady laid a curse on my head! An actual, factual blood-line gypsy laid a fucking curse on my fucking head! From yesterday’s letter:
you my friend just opened a door to shit you may one day look back on and say “oh shit that fat tattooed psychic lady was right…my life is fucked!” Curses suck!
Today is the first day of the rest of my curse: I woke up ten minutes late for an interview. I dropped my keys—not once but twice today. And when I ordered my chow mein for lunch I asked for three stars. And it wasn’t even a little bit spicy.
Man. Curses suck.