1997jan17. [date|1997]
Okay! I am back from my far-flung adventure! I have many stories to tell you, the home/work reader. I would especially like to thank Colin Maciness for tending to the big mess that is Cardhouse in my absence. But now, an emergency PSYCHIC READING!
Hiya. I wanta psychic reading! I’m a little worried that anyone who wastes so much time building a webpage as crappy as mine needs help. Let me know:
My car currently contains: 3 half-empty travel mugs full of cold tea. Kickboxing gloves. Pile of old napkins from Taco Hell, 1 first aid kit the size of a steamer trunk, 1 rollerblade, 1 FarSide calendar, 1 book on Banzai trees, 3 cans of coconut milk and the complete score to Vivaldi’s “Gloria.”
Help?
Livi (of
Wagnerian fame) H.
Hrmmmm ... I am getting a sense of a life that is “out-of-balance” ... but “down-to-earth.” I am also getting a reading, something about BOXING ... is it “KICK” BOXING, sport of the future? I cannot say at this time.
I am also getting a psychic premonition of a building, no, of actually building, as in the verb. Are you a construction worker? Perhaps this is an avenue of employment that would agree with you.
I see some sort of bizarre mix of COLD TEA and COLA NUT MILK, no, scratch that, COCONUT MILK swirling around, this could be a new taste sensation that you will devise in the near future while listening to ... while listening to I WILL SURVIVE by GLORIA GAYNOR.
Now I am seeing a TINY FOREST ... morphing into a set of dainty napkins. Maybe this is a sign that forestry would be a better career choice, maybe not.