April 3rd

On this day... death of Jesse James, 1882. Shot in the back of the head by friend turned bounty hunter Bob Ford while dusting a picture in his St. Joseph, Missouri home. Ain't it a kick, huh? The dusting is what gets me: people who lead the most extraordinary lives tend to die in the most boring ways, or at least while engaged in boring activities. (See my first entry on Ernest the Explorer). They're making a new movie about him; though I worry his death isn't flashy enough for the usual Brad Pitt film. I figure they'll find a way to work around it. Like maybe there's a keg of dynamite in the root cellar whose fuse is piped up through the wall behind the picture, and instead of dusting it he's really lighting that fuse, so that after he dies and the villanous Ford stands manfully over his beautiful, body hair-less corpse and tosses off a one liner, his clever phrase will be forever cut short by a digitally enhanced fireball. Totally sweet.
I actually have a friend who claims to be related to him - Jesse James, not Brad Pitt - on one side of her family. On the other side she's descended from an Irish Catholic priest and a nun. The first time I heard that, it took me a humiliatingly long time to realize why it was noteworthy. A shameful lapse on my part, since I've often entertained the idea of entering a convent - more out of a desire to see if I could do it than from any religious fervor. I'm spiritual, but it's definitely of a more of a neo-pagan Episcopal bent. I have a little (really little - perhaps miniscule is a better term) side business selling Tarot and palm readings for a couple of bucks each. I'm going nuts to try crystallomancy, but it's simply unbelievably difficult to find a suitable crystal ball. There are plenty for sale online, yes, but I've heard that a buyer really needs to be physically present with a variety of crystals before you find one that fits you best. An antique ebay find is tempting, but you never know where it's been, or who's had their aura all over it. Objects that a person identifies with strongly almost always carry traces of them around forever. And if that person was unpleasant... it's sort of like the objects have a psychic STD. (Or is it STI now? I forget). One can also make a scrying mirror - though I'm inclined to be a bit afraid of them. I always heard that mirrors will steal a corpse's soul if said corpse is carried past one. They can be eerie things. But the mirrormaking instructions I've seen deal with the mirror being painted with an opaqe layer of black spray enamel, so maybe that's alright. Hmm. I may have to get my mom to ferry me to a hardware store soon. I'm lucky to have a mother who supports this sort of thing. She'll back me in just about any activity that might make me a billionare one day. I could be like Miss Cleo - except not. Really, hopefully, desperately not.