Friday the 13th

I was once cursed by the same gypsy three times-- on the 492 bus by the Lepanto stop (3 pm), on the last evening train from Termini to Ottaviano, and again on the 492 bus at 7 am, Friday the 13th, November 1992. Yes, the curses were within 3 weeks of each other, all by the same gypsy, all saying the same thing.

The last time I saw her on the 492 bus, she was tearing bits of paper and shoving it down a little hole in the floor of the bus. She looked at me and said that was my life. The bus was quiet and no one said anything. I was angry with the lame hexes. Did she really think my life was destined to a hole at the bottom of a smelly bus heading east on Via delle Milizie? I grabbed the scraps of papers left on her lap and threw them out an open window. Then I told her that all those nasty things she said to me were going to happen to her, and that I had Malocchio. She jumped off the bus at the next stop.

In my family, good things come in threes. I was always told that I can ward of bad luck with my eyes-- a kind of reverse evil eye/malocchio thing. And Friday the 13th is a celebrated day.

This Friday the 13th, there is nothing more that I would like than to cuddle up and watch a lot of films. New films. Blockbusters and independents. And tomorrow is the start of the Roman Film Festival-- like I said, Friday the 13th is good luck.

Clooney, Kidman, Landau, Burstyn, Robinson- I can't really think of a better crew to be with on Friday the 13th.