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.
Lately 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 →