Celestial Heavens
Mt Sinai
New York City (Upper and Lower Manhattan, including the Subway)
India
Magic Fairy Land
All unnamed stars in the galaxy (and islands in the Bahamas not yet purchased by Jimmy Buffet and other celebrities)
Dear Collective World Forces and Keeper of Destinies,
(Includes: Gods < all varieties>, Buddha, Genesah, Cupid, the Tooth Fairy, Fairy God Mother, Glenda, the good witch of the North, The Charmed Ones, and my Karma Fairies)
Subject: Me
Today was low, a new low for even me. I know I don’t pray or make offerings, go to buildings of worship or drop money into baskets, rub died fake rabbit’s feet or look for money under my pillow. I tried that one time back in February of ‘94 that night I was standing on the other side of the twelve M16s separated by non-bullet proof glass, but after that I resumed my disbelief in all things ethereal–by the way, thanks for getting me out that situation in Singapore—because I really don’t know any of you all that well. I wanted to believe, but all my life I’ve watched the collective touch other’s lives in magical ways that frankly befuddled and perplexed. Your practices for disbursement and random miracles rarely made sense to me.
This brings me to the subject, me. I read Buddha’s teachings (the abridged version), and I’ve bought into the whole Yin and yang theory of life. At first, I thought this was paraphrasing the sentiment of the Rolling Stones, ‘You Can’t Always Get What You Want’, but after twenty-seven-hundred knocks from life and as many turns of fate, I saw the pattern. I got it almost down to the last period. I see that it’s practical magic, and that I only have to wait to see the good card after a bad card is flipped over. I do see it, in my life anyway.
Over the years, I’ve cursed the concept because it didn’t seem to apply to everyone evenly, rather it seemed favors were played or cashed in depending on who was dialing the heavens. I’ve bitched about this to a few of you over the years but since the only response I ever got back for broadcasting my problems out to the heavens was more strife, which was meant to push me harder, I suspended my faith permanently. Oh goodie I’d respond, another test to validate myself-worth, strength and overall commitment to my good self. Often it felt that I was pushed harder than others because of my stance on all things ethereal, as I’ve endured and proved over and over again that I am all that, and have waited and waited, and got nothing for the sweat and tears.
I know there isn’t anything coming to me that I am not responsible for – cause and effect, yin and yang, and destiny is mine to write, rewrite, and even then, I might choose to change it, and faith in celestial beings is my choice should I choose to make it, or need a crutch to help me along the way. OK, so you all know that I know that I have the key to me and hold the energy and power to alter my destiny. I get it.
The thing is today’s triple whammy hit me hard. Three rejections before noon, love, job, and Editor, come on that’s too much, even for me. I’ve paid my dues times ten to the power of ten, plus infinity. Stop testing me. It’s a lot to ask of you since we’re not on a first name basis and I only tend to write to you when I on my knees. Since you all have the power to flick the tides of fate, go on, just do it – send me some positive aura kisses, give me a break.
Waiting on the bridge,
I enjoy the overstuffed Laura Ashley chinch cushions scattered carelessly around my cerebral office, like a cup of Joe on the go, so is my office. An anywhere room to retreat to, make notes in, to take comfort in, to sip Coppla’s Claret from cut crystal wine glasses, as needed. I purposely decorated the virtual Room of my Own to resemble the real one—it reduced my bank balance by eighty thousand dollars and the single biggest purchase in my vast, and color-tainted life—because the physical room is the gateway to me. It’s where my girl and boy collect. ‘Mommy, can I? Where are my…? Do you know..? I need twenty dollars. Do we have the book called Wuthering Heights?’ I wonder if the eighty thousand was wasted. 
Tall and lanky, ethereal and elusive, is mine.
