FROM THE EDITOR
I’ve been reading my horoscopes lately. It’s like an in-house fortune teller (available in Canvas in print and anywhere online) who gives platitudes and generalities but nothing material. “I see for you a [insert word] movement/mountain/a mountain of a man/margarita”. Yes, yes, yes, yes — though I’d settle for a Bloody Mary).
The last time I submit to the urge to have a total stranger tell me my future, I am staying with a friend in Hokitika. She is living there with the man who will later become her husband. She’s traded her life in the city for a small West Coast town. We dig holes in the cold river and sit in thermal water. We light the fire. We drink whiskey. We talk a lot. One day in the small town, there is a travelling fair. Usual stuff: coconut ice, russian fudge, housetrucks, knitted jumpers in peach or garish depending on your style, banana bread, and a small tent with a fortune teller. “Come in,” she beckons. I hardly need encouraging. I am at a crossroads. Tell me what to do. As she parts the bead and mirrored curtain for me it tinkles like wind chimes. She wears crushed velvet and a lot of makeup but she has a gentle face. “Oh my God,” she says, actually welling up. She’s good, I think, she’s really feeling it. “I feel so happy for you.” Why, I ask, keen to know what great good fortune she sees in my utter chaos. Thank f*** someone can see things clearly. I imagine my internal chaos might look, if seen from a drone, like the convergence of dozens of roads, spaghetti junction, packed with cars, trucks and vans all going somewhere but fighting for space. But whatever she sees coming up on my road, I am keen to collide with it, as long as no one’s hurt.
“I feel so happy for you — you should see him. I’m a bit jealous.” It’s like being trapped in an episode of Sex and the City but without the cosmopolitans and the dirty talk. “He is going to make you so happy.”
I suck it all up. And I don’t blame her for not seeing the nuances because her spiritual eye isn’t a well-honed drone. She’s a woman in a tent at a fair and she charges $40 for half an hour.
Horoscopes list Virgo strengths: loyal, kind, analytical, hardworking, practical (yes, I hope so, yes, yes, and yes). Weaknesses: shyness, worry, overly critical of self and others, all work and no play (sometimes, yes, yes, no and no). Virgo likes: animals, healthy food, books, nature, cleanliness (yes, sometimes, yes, yes, not particularly, unless it’s the bathroom). Virgo dislikes: rudeness, asking for help, taking centre stage (yes, yes, yes — on occasion).
This much I know: I am in Te Waipounamu again, driving to a friend’s 50th. The Southern Alps that flank the tamed paddocks and their rigidly manicured hedges are covered in snow and it feels like they are both guarding and guiding. Mel sits opposite me in the campervan. She has brought two suitcases of vinyl. Nikki, who has a heavy truck licence, drives with a confidence that is characteristic of how she generally approaches life: direct, certain. We stop at an op shop in Timaru and I see a blue dress that reminds me of the kind made by Suzie Cave, Nick’s wife. I do know I love it and I know that I regret not buying it. I know I prevaricate but that I’m also impulsive. I do know Timaru is getting a mall and I think how sad it is they don’t just renovate the arcade with its grand wrought-iron structure and its intriguing narrow lanes.
When we get to Oamaru I know there will be hysterical laughter and excess. I know Rachel is making a champagne fountain from glasses purchased at Kmart. I know Kelvin is resourceful and also a loon. I know that on all roads there will be: mystery and certainty, cheese rolls and road pies, and dresses you wish you bought.
Noho ora mai