Tell Me Something Good
I almost forgot to mention to go visit new renter, The Battle Rock Spot. I've been a previous tennant there and I was treated with nothing but kindness. Chocolates on the pillow, the whole bit.
When I was a teenager, my friends and I had a weird half obsession with all things psychic. I say "half obsession" because we always took our psychic readings like we took our fries, with a grain or two of salt.
It worked a little something like this. We went in wanting to believe what we would hear would be something profound and life changing, but rarely, if ever, did it work out that way. But what could a girl expect for $5 to $10 dollars a pop? Which is what, incidentally, we usually would end up spending. This is how we found out that learning about the future is just like shopping for a new car; you gotta pay for quality.
While I can't trace the exact origin of our psychic excursions, I can say that as a Jersey girl, most of your first time future readings were at the whim of a boardwalk psychic. This was because they were were really cheap and also, easily accessible.
As preteen and teenage girls throughout the state of New Jersey will tell you, the boardwalk, and everything on it, is riddled with rites of passage. Therefore, the boardwalk psychic is merely one stop along the tram car ridden highway.
The key to cracking the ghetto psychic is easy. Never show your hand. If you've got a "psychic" who asks more than she tells, chances are she's no clairvoyant. I used to get a kick out of playing with these psychics, subtlely letting them know that I knew they knew NOTHING. Of course, they still had my money, so what did they really care?
No, the mark of a true psychic is someone who asks you to reveal very little and in turn, offers you a lot. I'll never forget one of my first psychic boardwalk experiences. I went with my best friend at the time. My reading is a blur, but hers has stayed with me to this day. She went in, sat down and the psychic looked at her and said:
You're adopted.
As legend, or the words from my thirteen year old's friend's mouth, would have it, she said nothing to this woman before receiving this information in return. Of course this was all told to me second hand as I was there, I just wasn't in the room. It doesn't really matter if it happened to me. I've spent years chasing the "true psychic dream" ever since.
Many bum psychic experiences later, I thought I was doomed to either meet many deadbeat psychics, or lead a mundane, crappy existence that no one had the heart to break to me.
Then I went to this coffeehouse one night with two friends of mine.
The coffeehouse was packed and multiple psychics were being used. My friends ended up getting the same psychic while I got a different woman. I can't remember the specifics now, but we all, although some of us went to different people, were freakishly freaked out.
Now anyone who is in to telling the future will tell you at least one thing, most psychics are told not be the bearer of bad news. Therefore, if they see something in the cards that dicates something awful, mum, not grease, is the word.
So imagine our surprise when my one friend was given a few different warnings about being cautious, one in particular about her driving over the next few days. This sufficiently creeped her out and, by default us as well considering she was the designated driver. A few days later she showed up at my house, white as a ghost, because she nearly got into a collision with another car. This, along with a few other minor occurrences were enough to cause use to go back to the same place a few months later.
But here's the really spooky part, the whole coffeehouse, the psychics and yes even the coffee too, was gone. Kaput. Finished. There was no forwarding address and a few neighboring stores either did not know of the place or did not know where they had gone. It was all surreal. Here we had attempted to go back to the future and instead our outlook was not good, try again later. If only we had taken the DeLorean instead of my friend's Pontiac.
Years have gone by since that last brush with psychic greatness. I've never called up Dionne Warwick and friends for their services, but something tells me I don't need a psychic to tell me about my financial woes as the minutes for the call tick by.
Still, I know it's a matter of time before I find the perfect psychic one day and when I do, I'll be ready to do the time warp again.
When I was a teenager, my friends and I had a weird half obsession with all things psychic. I say "half obsession" because we always took our psychic readings like we took our fries, with a grain or two of salt.
It worked a little something like this. We went in wanting to believe what we would hear would be something profound and life changing, but rarely, if ever, did it work out that way. But what could a girl expect for $5 to $10 dollars a pop? Which is what, incidentally, we usually would end up spending. This is how we found out that learning about the future is just like shopping for a new car; you gotta pay for quality.
While I can't trace the exact origin of our psychic excursions, I can say that as a Jersey girl, most of your first time future readings were at the whim of a boardwalk psychic. This was because they were were really cheap and also, easily accessible.
As preteen and teenage girls throughout the state of New Jersey will tell you, the boardwalk, and everything on it, is riddled with rites of passage. Therefore, the boardwalk psychic is merely one stop along the tram car ridden highway.
The key to cracking the ghetto psychic is easy. Never show your hand. If you've got a "psychic" who asks more than she tells, chances are she's no clairvoyant. I used to get a kick out of playing with these psychics, subtlely letting them know that I knew they knew NOTHING. Of course, they still had my money, so what did they really care?
No, the mark of a true psychic is someone who asks you to reveal very little and in turn, offers you a lot. I'll never forget one of my first psychic boardwalk experiences. I went with my best friend at the time. My reading is a blur, but hers has stayed with me to this day. She went in, sat down and the psychic looked at her and said:
You're adopted.
As legend, or the words from my thirteen year old's friend's mouth, would have it, she said nothing to this woman before receiving this information in return. Of course this was all told to me second hand as I was there, I just wasn't in the room. It doesn't really matter if it happened to me. I've spent years chasing the "true psychic dream" ever since.
Many bum psychic experiences later, I thought I was doomed to either meet many deadbeat psychics, or lead a mundane, crappy existence that no one had the heart to break to me.
Then I went to this coffeehouse one night with two friends of mine.
The coffeehouse was packed and multiple psychics were being used. My friends ended up getting the same psychic while I got a different woman. I can't remember the specifics now, but we all, although some of us went to different people, were freakishly freaked out.
Now anyone who is in to telling the future will tell you at least one thing, most psychics are told not be the bearer of bad news. Therefore, if they see something in the cards that dicates something awful, mum, not grease, is the word.
So imagine our surprise when my one friend was given a few different warnings about being cautious, one in particular about her driving over the next few days. This sufficiently creeped her out and, by default us as well considering she was the designated driver. A few days later she showed up at my house, white as a ghost, because she nearly got into a collision with another car. This, along with a few other minor occurrences were enough to cause use to go back to the same place a few months later.
But here's the really spooky part, the whole coffeehouse, the psychics and yes even the coffee too, was gone. Kaput. Finished. There was no forwarding address and a few neighboring stores either did not know of the place or did not know where they had gone. It was all surreal. Here we had attempted to go back to the future and instead our outlook was not good, try again later. If only we had taken the DeLorean instead of my friend's Pontiac.
Years have gone by since that last brush with psychic greatness. I've never called up Dionne Warwick and friends for their services, but something tells me I don't need a psychic to tell me about my financial woes as the minutes for the call tick by.
Still, I know it's a matter of time before I find the perfect psychic one day and when I do, I'll be ready to do the time warp again.
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