Look out for Jimmy Valentine for he is an old pal of mine. Come on, come on, Jim. Ok, ok, I am all through. Can’t do another thing. Look out mamma, look out for her. You can’t beat him. Police, mamma, Helen, mother, please take me out. I will settle the indictment. Come on, open the soap duckets. The chimney sweeps. Talk to the sword. Shut up, you got a big mouth! Please help me up, Henry. Max, come over here. French-Canadian bean soup. I want to pay. Let them leave me alone. - Last words of Dutch Schultz
I’ve gotten better at preparing. Everything I need in one bag, ready to go. I stand in front of the mirror pulling back hair and applying layers of eyeshadow. This is my Saturday, every Saturday. When people ask my day job I reply to them “everything.” I get to wear sequins on Saturdays and long gloves with pearls. On Sundays I paint in small black slips and the weekdays are filled with readings and painting and bits of writing. Every day I light the candles on the altar and tend to the workings at hand. Every day I lay down a card and answer a question but Saturdays are a special kind of working, one where I’m not me. Instead I slip into a dress and fall into a dream world. Saturdays are special.
After ritual nights I have to pump myself up for more performances but those weekends tend to be the most fulfilling.
9 of cups
Running around preparing for the play, water.
Not caring that I ditched my high protein low carb diet for a day.
Same as above.
Full day focused on the play.