Archive | Etiquette Matters

A Few Notes on Mating Rituals

The other day, I met a cute guy in a luncheonette. We exchanged numbers and flirty texts. Then he started messaging about video-gaming and I went radio silent. I am an old-school dame, and old-school dames don’t date boys (cis or trans) whose mating rituals include Mortal Kombat. Old-school dames prefer gentlemen who phone rather than text, speak in complete sentences rather than monosyllables and GIFs, and listen and learn as much as they hold forth. Old-school dames prefer suitors who ask, don’t tell, and old-school dames don’t chase so much as stride. Really, I most prize notes hand-lettered on engraved paper and stately walks through parks, but I’ll accept any heartfelt exchange that makes me shine, not shrink. True courtship entails communion, not coercion.

Death to the Cockocracy

Twice this weekend I was in a restaurant–one time in Soho; the other in Williamsburg–when a pack of youngish white guys–bearded, casually expensively dressed–grew so loud and rowdy that nobody else could hear themselves, let alone their companions. One group was clearly comprised of bankers; the other, hipsters who may even have considered themselves progressive. To me, they were equally offensive. I take this kind of rudeness very, very seriously, since white male entitlement is on a continuum that goes all the way to the oligarchy subsuming our country and our planet. You can argue that people are entitled to have a good time, that “boys will be boys,” but I am beyond tired of the privileging of this swath of humanity over the ears, needs, lives of everyone else. Bottom line: I’ve come to find bro culture violent in all its forms. If you are a white straight dude hanging out in public with your pals, check yourself.

The Radiance of Pain

Before Now After (Mama, Mummy and Mamma)--Njideka Akunyili CrosbyLately I keep remembering the phrase, “We’re all just walking each other home.” I don’t remember who said it. A Google search would cough it up fast enough but I like not knowing who said it, as if it were as common as “sly as a fox” or “out of the frying pan, into the fire.” I wish it were.

What’s made me remember these words is the pain I’ve witnessed this year, especially this month. I don’t normally talk about my clients for the simple reason that if I did I would not be a very trustworthy intuitive. I’ve heard some psychics discuss their clientele–usually when they count celebrities among them–but while I understand the urge and assume everyone is being discussed with their consent (hope, anyway), I feel intuitive work must adhere to very clear ethics because it’s not otherwise regulated and because it entails such fragile, precious material (souls). Continue Reading →

"All, everything I understand, I understand only because I love."
― Leo Tolstoy