We're in Greenwich Village, my mother, my sister and I. I think it's the mid-80s. Allie is aobut 10 or 12. Mom suddenly decides that we should see a palm reader, so we find ourselves in the front room of this Puerto-Rican girl in her late teens. Allie, as usual, is the Golden child. She will have 2 children-- a boy and a girl. I won't get married until "late in life." Her concept of "late in life" is 22. Later on, mom tells us in her best "I understand other cultures" voice, that 22 probably is considered old for marriage among Her People. Besides my late marriage, I am going to be "surrounded by bright colors. " What does that mean? I'm going to wear a safety orange prison suit? I'm going to work in the paint section of K- Mart? I also need to listen to my elders more, and not be so rebellious. Heh. She should have told that to my wide-eyed perfect little sister. Too bad she didn't predict that in 2 years, the little darling was going to be stealing the car, doing drugs, having abortions and dropping out of 8th grade.
Ripshit Heart
Monday, October 06, 2003
Random crap I remember from childhood and decided to document for who knows what reason.
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