Dear Mr. Scratchy:
It's a Saturday night just before 10pm EST as I type this. Been awhile, but you know me, not a lot to chat about anymore.
I did a tarot reading for a friend last night, and it was one of those where I found myself doubting the whole thing. That was until she said to me at the end, that it fit perfectly with a decision she needed to make. It feels good to be right sometimes.
So, I discovered today, that I'm really popular everywhere but my own country. Weird right? I let Marie talk me into signing up for that dating site and I seem to get a lot of looks from guys in obscure places at the far end of the northern world, who all look like vikings and have names I can't even identify. But scoreless in Canada. Laugh, it's funny it's okay.
Anyways, Herman, I imagine you tonight, dressed in those striped pajama bottoms, totally faded and frayed, a cleanly washed t-shirt in an off brown colour, a cup of coffee in hand. I imagine you've got those little wire rimmed glasses on, sitting there reading this. I think I mentioned once before that I think you have taken up tarot cards yourself, and who knows; you might even be better at it than me by now? Anyways, I imagine you sitting there with a deck of tarot beside you.
Okay Herman, that's it for tonight.
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