The Luna Park Gazette

Sherry Francis got her husband back and she wants the whole world to know it. In fact she was so overjoyed that last week she left a comment on a blog post I did way back on January 1, 2007 . Say what you want about Sherry, she’s not one to rush into things. This particular posts rambles a bit, but it has absolutely nothing to do with retrieving lost spouses. But I guess Sherry was so excited having her man back in her arms again that she didn’t actually bother to read anything I wrote. “ I promise to share this testimony all over the world once my husband return back to me, ” Sherry writes, “a nd today with all due respect i want to thank Dr Orissa for bringing joy and happiness to my life .” Dr. Orissa sounds like my kind of guy…or gal. But pray, Sherry, do tell us more. “ I never believed in any of these things until i loosed my husband, ” Sherry explains. “ I required help until i found a grate spell caster, And he cast a love spell for me, and he assured me that I wi...

I came into Manhattan one Friday morning praying for an easy day. Now to be honest, I pray for an easy day every single morning of my life, but I was feeling especially miserable on this day and all I wanted to do was refill my Metrocard, get to work, and live to see the weekend. Was that so much to ask? Funny you should ask... I bounced off my bus and hopped down the stairs of the Courtland Street R station to beef up my Metrocard. It’s quite simple, really. Just slip your card into one of the vending machines, tap out the desired amount, and then pay for it. The first two steps went fine, but when I attempted to dip my credit card into the pay slot I found that the pathway was obstructed and I rang up a No Sale. No problem, I thought as I cancelled the transaction. I’ll just use the other machine they’ve got here and then head for the office. It was a can of corn, as my father would’ve said. But the first machine’s affliction was apparently contagious and my credit card...

A few days ago, a line from the film David Lean’s classic Great Expectations popped into my head like a lyric from an old song. It’s from the opening scenes of this beautifully rendered version of Charles Dickens’ novel where the hero, Pip, a young boy living in the marsh country of southeast England, is visiting his mother’s grave when the escaped convict Magwitch jumps him. Magwitch orders Pip to bring him food and a file so he can break free of the chains that are weighing him down. And just to make sure the kid comes back, Magwitch invents a sadistic sidekick who, he says, will come after Pip if he doesn’t do what he’s told. “There's a young man hid with me,” Magwitch says with extreme malice, “in comparison with which young man I am a Angel.” I can’t recall anything that prompted this particular memory. It just cropped up in my head, but I have to say it’s most welcome since watching this movie was part of my family’s Christmas tradition. Great Expectations isn’t ...

I can still smell the gunpowder from tonight’s fireworks show at Coney Island even though I’ve been home for hours. My sister and I went out to the world famous amusement area to catch the pyrotechnics before the summer fizzles out. I haven’t been to Coney Island at this time of year--or at this time of night--in ages. Yes, I ventured out there in May for the Wonder Wheel poetry night , but the summer season hadn’t started yet. Tonight it was going full blast—literally, figuratively, and any other “ly” you can think of. And my sister and I happily dove right in. We started off with a Mexican dinner in Bay Ridge before clattering out to Coney via the N train. I’ve regarded amusement parks with disdain for the longest time, dismissing them as a low class form of entertainment. But I decided to drop the attitude this evening and enjoy the insanity. I took great pleasure in the crowds, the noise and the whole twisted atmosphere that makes Coney Island such a singular spot. I rec...

The shirtless man was about 50 feet away when we saw him heading toward us. My sister and I were walking to the boardwalk in Santa Monica during our recent trip to LA, while the shirtless man was apparently going home. He was seriously out of condition, the kind of guy who really should’ve reconsidered the no-shirt look. Yes, we were close to the beach, but we weren’t close enough to warrant this unfortunate display. “Oh, God,” I muttered to my sister so that only she could hear. Now this man was a total stranger who had never done anything to me; and yet here I was making snide comments. And then he put me in my place. The path to the boardwalk became quite narrow and the shirtless man reached out to a parked car to unlock the door. But, upon seeing us, he stopped, stood aside and let us walk by. I felt about two inches tall as I skulked by him, mumbling my thanks. This man whom I had just been mocking was being so polite and considerate—unlike a certain hairless fellow f...

“Please forgive my honesty,” Veronica said as I put my right hand on the small table. Why not? I had a come to her broom closet of a studio to hear whatever she could allegedly glean from reading the lines of my palm. As John Lennon liked to say, just gimme some truth… “I’m a spiritualist,” Veronica explained. “I’m not a witch or a fortune teller.” This was on Saturday night and I was feeling no pain, as the saying goes, having knocked back a couple of glasses of wine over dinner at one of my favorite Mexican restaurants. I had nothing to do, which has been happening with depressing regularity lately, and I told myself that this would be fun, even though there was some part of me hoping to get… something more out of this experience. It’s seems strange that in this age of the Internet and the selfie stick so many people are looking to the mystic arts for answers about love, money, and career. But I’ve always had a need for a bit of the magic in my life and I have a lot of c...