Harlequin is Magic
A few months ago I was walking down the street, minding my own beeswax. It was a sunny summer day, I had my iced coffee in hand, and I think I was singing to myself. I don't remember what song it was now. Something happy. Perhaps it was "On The Loose" by Saga. Anyway, I'm singing along, and as I turn the corner I spy two oversized plastic bags sitting on the curb. The bags are busting at the seams, stuffed as they are with paperback books. As I approach I realize that these are not bags filled with just any old paperback books. These are bags filled with romance novels. Harlequin romance novels. From the 80s. I'm sorry, is it my birthday? Am I on Candid Camera?
Someone was throwing out solid gold. Naturally, I felt that I couldn't possibly ignore this gift from heaven, or this opportunity to rescue a little abandoned romance from these mean city streets. I dragged both bags of books all the way home. I lost my iced coffee along the way, but it was worth it. The coffee kind of tasted like ass.
I don't plan on really reading all of my vintage Harlequins. I've been enjoying playing Grab Bag; closing my eyes, reaching in to the magic satchels and pulling out whichever love scroll finds its way between my fingers. It's worth it for the cover art alone. I like to open up to a random page and find a righteous paragraph. So far, what I've learned is that Harlequin loves its adverbs.
This collection can also be used as a magick oracle, I've found. Just the other day I asked the powers that be, "Will I have a date soon?" I reached in to the bag and pulled out the answer, and the answer came back to me in the form of the uncut and larger print edition of Million-Dollar Love-Child by Sarah Morgan. Clearly, not only will I have a date soon, but my date will be an amazingly rich man who will illegitimately impregnate me with his excitingly large, uncut penis. Awesome. Follow-up question: How much does an abortion cost?
