Fools rush in where angels fear to tread, and all of the angels are in heaven, but few of the fools are dead

In Factory Girl, a movie about Edie Sedgwick's rise to fame via Andy Warhol, Sienna Miller (as Edie) opens the film with a short monologue in which she says: "I went to a party once, and there was a palm reader there and when she looked at my hand, she just froze. And I said to her 'I know. My lifeline is broken. I know I won't live past thirty.'"

It's for reasons very similar to this example that I've never sought out anyone who practices metaphysical activities; I've always been scared that they'd tell me I'm all the chaos in the world embodied in a single person, and that soon I will explode into a million zillion pieces. That and I'm terrified that they'll open some secret portal in my mind like in Stir of Echoes and believe you me, Kevin Bacon starring in movies is scary enough. I don't need that reality in addition to a sixth sense. This is not to say that I believe whole-heartedly in other realms or that fortune telling is at all accurate; it's just that--I'll admit it--I'm a freak of gullible nature, so when my friend’s girlfriend showed up to our regular weekend meeting place with a big black box of tarot cards and Wiccan books and small containers of salt and who knows what, instead of the usual movies and twelve packs of beer, I made a really big and unnecessarily loud sigh. Why? Because I'm a curious freak of gullible nature, and when opportunities present themselves in such relaxed and easy environments, there I am, extending both arms.

There were six of us and by the time it was my turn to be read, everyone was already busy researching their own results to immediately notice that I pulled the fucking Death card. It just figures, doesn’t it? There were nine cards in the reading and I got through a whole eight just fine (except for the Devil card, which was in the position for the subconscious and I was told means that the darkness in me is repressed – a good thing, I guess), but then I came to the very last card which supposedly represents how you should deal with the next six months of your life, flipped it over, and BAM: Tom Petty seeks revenge.

Supposedly it means that I’m going to have to end a lot of things in the very near future and start fresh. I told this to HWMNBN and of course, the bastard smiled, threw a mini celebration in his head and said, “THE DEATH CARD. HOW RIGHT IT IS.”