The Psychic Fair

Near my home in New Castle, Pennsylvania, is a place known as the
Haunted Hill View Manor.  The sign at the end of the driveway said, “Psychic Fair”  with another sign, “Free Admission.”

I’ve heard it was previously an old age home, but the promotional material makes it sound much more ominous than the locals I have talked to, but they are allowed.  It would be very boring without an interesting back story.

There were many psychics on hand to tell your fortune, read your aura, palm, tea leaves or whatever.  These people are the real deal.  You can tell they are real by the $30 to $40 charged for a reading.  The speakers were free, and we got there just as a man talking about how to access the astral plain was getting started.  As you may imagine, meditation is key, with the possible addition of mind altering substances.

There were also many vendors selling jewelry, symbols, candles etc. If you find my description lacking I must apologize.  I walked through, but could not linger.  The mold level inside the building was quite high.  I did complain to the person in charge and was referred to their waiver, which excludes them from any responsibility for any thing that may cause you injury or harm, up to and including death.  And what did I expect, “It’s an old building.”

Today, I sent this email:

Greetings,  I attended your Psychic Fair on Saturday, June 2.  I could not linger and had to quickly leave due to asthma and the mold in your facility.  I said something to the person in charge, who referred me to the Waiver, which basically says you are not responsible for anything at all, ever, under any circumstances. While I can see that is of great benefit to you, it does nothing to inform me of the dangers involved.  Any other attraction open to the public has large signs warning of dangers to specific people with a higher than average risk.  At the hotel hot tub, “Not recommended for people with high blood pressure, diabetes, pregnant, or children under the age of 10.”  Similar signs are found at amusement parks.  Even the TSA warns people with pacemakers to inform the agent.  Especially for events, open to the public, you need a warning posted that those with respiratory issues should not enter due to mold.  I believe your waiver still leaves you open to liability, but I am not a lawyer, so what do I really know.  Being an old building doesn’t let you off the hook, as many old building have had mold remediation. But once again, I am not a lawyer.                          I  wish I could have enjoyed your Psychic Fair, but I couldn’t and shall not return, nor recommend a visit to your facility.

So now all of you know what I expect.  Any lawyers who might be reading, perhaps you would like to weigh in on the level the waiver protects them.

I do apologize if you find my tone dismissive of the psychic realm.  I assure you, that is not the case, but when it comes to psychics, there is no licensing board.  I myself have toyed with the idea of hanging out my shingle, and quietly advertising.  Charlatan?  That depends on your beliefs.

 

Writing

20160803_173930

I plop into my chair before my computer and pull up a blank page.  Okay, I’m writing. Now.  Time for creativity.  My blog has followers, waiting for the next gem.  Nothing.  Just write, what?  Anything, anything at all.  I can’t think of a single thought, my mind is totally silent, unlike at 3 am when I would rather be asleep.  What did I think of then?  I am clueless.  Apparently, nothing was keeping me awake.

So maybe if I just get my fingers moving, so I type the alphabet: abcdefghijklmnopqristuvwxyz  abcdefghijklmnopqristuvwxyz  Okay, now what?  ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRISTUVWXYZ!  Okay, my fingers are loosed up.  I’m ready to go.  Nothing, but silence.

I practice meditation and then the noise in my head jumps from one thing to another, going on and on, a free association of all that is going on, right and wrong, negative and positive, personal and world events.  So I mediate for a while, and time passes, and still nothing.  Nothing except, what ever made me think I could be a writer!  Writers have stories, things to say.  I’ve got nothing.

Writer’s block.  The inability of a writer to think of anything to write.  This state can go on for days, weeks, months, and years.  No inspiration.  No solution.  Nothing but grocery or chore lists.  We are out of mayo I write to Hubby.  This is the level of creativity I’ve been reduced to.  Give up?  Though in the towel?  (Great!  I’m reduced to cliches.)  Quit!

But wait.  The daily prompt triggers a memory. “Plop, plop.  Fizz, fizz.  Oh what a relief it is.”  Another thought, families have trouble just plopping into a chair to have a dinner together.  Another thought, about Fizzy’s on a picnic with my family plopping into a glass of water.  Another thought, about plopping into my chair and writing.

Okay, not the most exciting of posts, but not every day can be a winner.  At least my readers can relate.  Posting every day is an ambitious goal.  One I have yet to maintain for long.  But one more thing.  A good picture could save this.  Yes.  I may get lucky yet.

Now to go read some really great posts by others.

 

 

Create a free website or blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑