on the sunny side

Photo: Boudin

Okay, I go to psychics. I like to go once a year. If nothing else, I think it is cheap psychoanalysis for the common folk. I also believe we're all psychic to some extent, and that some are gifted. Whether or not you happen to meet a gifted psychic when you get a reading though, is always a gamble. Because I haven't been in a couple of years, I was long overdue for a reading and have compensated by having two short readings in the last week.

Hold on tight! Today I rode my bike to Sunnyside Pavilion to take in the Portuguese celebration. The soft sound of classical guitar floating on the lake breeze, and a fortune teller waving me over. Oh, what the hell. What better way to spend a sunny afternoon?

So, she read my palm. I want to write this down, so we may all cry about it some day, or say, 'remember when...' As a student of journalism, a wannabe writer, it doesn't get much better than this:

I should stay here in Toronto now. It's the right place. I'm going to write a book -- get this -- that will, naturally, be picked up for movie rights, and become a world-wide success. I will meet a tall European who will sweep me into his arms and I will live in France and Australia. She did say I was not a natural writer, which I can agree with. All those professors saying, "where's the story? where's the story?"

At any rate, I like her prediction and prognosis very much. Much better than the one earlier in the week, who also said I was doing the right thing by following my heart, but that finances would not be secure. I would have to find my security within. Okay.

My palm reader did forget to mention that I would get a flat tire on my ride home. Fortunately I was only a fifteen-minute walk from home. This home, my one in Toronto -- not the one in France or Australia.