Jealous Haters Book Club: Handbook For Mortals, Chapter 8 The Star (part 1) or “If you’re in love, show me! Show me!”
I apologize for not having a recap last week, but as you’ll see, there’s so much to deal with in this chapter that it’s required double the time to write it.
If you’re looking for a few eye rolls today, check out this interview with Lani Sarem at Mike Mauthor’s blog, wherein she plays coy about her possible “cameo” in the film, says she believes that acting gives her extra insight into writing (I’m sure her experience as an uncredited extra in Paul Blart: Mall Cop 2 more than qualifies her to be an author), and changes her story about the New York Times debacle yet again:
Well, I’m the only person that’s ever had that happen to them…people jumped to a lot of conclusions without all the facts and then started saying things that weren’t even close to being true…I hope people will take the time to understand what really happened and enjoy the book for what it is….
In case you’re getting liar whiplash, the story so far has gone:
I didn’t cheat, we sold this book at conventions based on Thomas Ian Nicholas’s star power
I didn’t cheat, I did things the way we do them in the music industry
I didn’t cheat, YA authors are just jealous of me
Okay, maybe I cheated, but isn’t it the publishing industry’s fault for not being as smart as me?
Tee hee, I cheated, might as well use it in my marketing
And now we’ve arrived at:
I didn’t cheat, people just jumped to conclusions without all the facts and then lied about me
The thing is, you can’t really say that people jumped to conclusions without facts when it was their dogged pursuit of the facts that got you found out in the first place. This is probably the most well-documented YA scandal in recent memory. The facts are there. A better strategy might be to discourage people from checking into them.
But it’s not all gaslighting and self-aggrandizement, dear readers. No, no. There is so, so much more for me to share with you today.
There’s a book trailer.
Note how the lush, verdant forest calls to mind the book’s gritty, Las Vegas Strip setting. Wonder at the clips lifted from copyrighted sources (such as Disney’s Enchanted and Cirque du Soleil). Marvel at how clunky and weird it is to announce a guest appearance by the Plain White T’s in your novel.
This is why I don’t have book trailers, guys. Well, this and the fact that they’re so freaking expensive.
Let’s get recapping the first part of this monster chapter.
Chapter eight opens with Zima standing outside the bar where the band is playing.
I had so many things to think about that my head was starting to hurt. I probably should have worried more about the girl in the parking garage but I just wasn’t ready to deal with her yet.
“I probably should have worried more about the girl in the parking garage, but my author hadn’t quite figured out where that was going, yet.”
Zazu does a lot of thinking about thinking. She should be thinking about something, but she’ll think about it later. I don’t know if there’s a name for this tragic phenomenon, but I’m naming this “Procrastinating Protagonist.” This chapter has an astounding amount of it.
I just wanted to make sure one last time that I looked good. Maggie was right, I had chosen the right dress. I was just the right amount of dressed up.
Just, just,right, right, dress, dressed. My god. It’s a move we’ve never seen in competition before. The Triple Repetition.
But let’s not lose our focus here. She’s hot, and it’s important that we know that.
The night before, after we had made it safely back to town, Mac had invited me back to his place–but I told him I thought it would be best to save that for another night.
So, cautious, never-breaks-the-rules, doesn’t-date-performers-because-an-evil-bitch-broke-his-heart Mac kissed her in the rain and was like, “What the hell, let’s do the sexin’ because that’s exactly how I got emotionally rolled over in the first place.”
Checks out.
Spending time with Mac under that awning was probably the most romantic thing that had happened to me in my small amount of dating experience, and I decided that perfect rain kisses were a great place to leave the “to be continued.”
I feel like (and this could just be my forgetful brain dropping “important” bits of the story) Zod has told us in the past that she never got to date in her hometown because people didn’t like her, but she’s also mentioned she’s kissed guys and has dating experience. I think this is one of those things where, if you’re writing a book with romance in it, you need to be clear with the reader where your heroine is coming from. Consistency in past romantic experience is a big part of what shapes a romance in a story, even if it’s never dwelled on in depth.
Since I hadn’t talked to him all day, I made up my mind that I woudln’t act like anything had happened–unless he did.
In other words, all of the romantic conflict with Mac is going to be lack of communication. At first, the romantic conflict there seemed to ride on his personal rules, but those went out the window the second there was a chance to write a kissing scene. Now that he’s broken the rule, there would have to be an intensely realistic reason for that to come back on the board. But Sarem seems to be falling on the lazy trick of characters just not talking about the one thing they should talk about in order to sustain ~*TEH DRAMAZ*~.
Truth be told, I was kind of hoping he wouldn’t either. After all, Mac was fully aware that Jackson had invited me in a somewhat “date-like” manner.
The strategy, then, is to just never talk about it ever?
I sorta wondered to myself how I got into such messes as this.
See above for answer.
Also, read that last line a la Justin Roiland improvising dialogue on Rick And Morty. You can hear it, can’t you?
Lindsay finally enters the bar, stopping to give the incredulous bouncer her ID:
My baby face always made them double check and usually bouncers would look at me the way he did–they never looked like they believed I was actually old enough to be in a bar.
There are two possible jokes to make here and I’m so torn between them. On the one hand, I could make a crack about how Sarem’s surely written herself out of the starring role now since she couldn’t pass for early-twenties in the first place. On the other hand, I could make a joke about the author’s wishul thinking or blatant insistence that she does, indeed, look young. This is one of those moments in a recap where I’m cursed with too many possibilities.
Despite looking like a fetus, iZarlie somehow gets in and thinks about how she wants to get at least a little time to spend with Mac while she’s there. But then she sees Mac and Tad and Riley standing by the bar and:
I pretended not to have noticed them and looked towards the bartender as if my focus was on getting him to come over.
She’s hoping she’ll get to see Mac, but when she sees him, she pretends not to. I’m not going to say that nobody in the history of ever has pulled this dumb move, but the evidence that Zippy operates like a character in a bad soap opera or a CW teen drama is mounting.
I didn’t have a lot of experience being in a bar, but I tried to be patient and act like I was relaxed and comfortable.
Also, if you don’t have a lot of experience in bars, how do you know how bouncers “usually” look at you?
She finally stops playing coy and looks over at Mac, but someone interrupts their eye contact:
It was Tim, Jackson’s bandmate in our show–and in the Plain White T’s as well; he gave me a quick hug and sweetly remarked, “Good to see you, Zade.”
We know that Tim is in the show band with Jackson and in the Plain White T’s because you already said that in the last chapter. Because I’m not a fucking idiot and I’ve been writing professionally for, oh, something like fifteen years, I already knew that this book didn’t see a single editor. I’m starting to suspect the author herself never read through the book once it was done, or she did and there were long gaps between reading chapters. On the other hand, she probably could have read the entire book cover to cover every day and still not seen how repetitive she is.
I hugged him back before making eye contact with Jackson, who was standing right next to him.
Again, we have an example of Lizzie McZuire seeing people backward. Tim touched her back and got her attention, but when she turned around, the first person she would notice would be Jackson, because he’s been on her mind more and he’s the person she’s come to see. He needed to be mentioned before the Tim hug.
Of course, there’s a Jackson hug to follow:
He startled me just a little bit when, as he started to release me from his hug, he kissed me lightly on the lips. It was one of those kisses that a friend might give you and it would not mean anything–
Whoa, hang on. None of my friends have ever kissed me on the lips, and if they did, I would sure assume it meant something. I mean, if not romantic love, at least very passionate friend love with somewhat misplaced boundaries.
Anyway, back to the excerpt. And by the way, the em dash where I stopped before is in the text.
or I could have taken it in a much more romantic way. I wasn’t sure how to take it, and of course, I wondered what Mac thought since I was sure he had seen Jackson kiss me.
I feel like so much of this book could have just been a romance novel set at a magic show. It didn’t need to be Urban Fantasy because the “magick” element is hardly there at all. We’ve had one scene of supernatural intrigue and some vague backstory on how her mom apparently used magic to trap her in their town, but every other page is, “Tee hee, two boys fighting over me.”
Now it’s time for another round of “person way more famous and successful than Lani Sarem isn’t recognized by but is eager to meet Lani Sarem Zade”:
Standing next to Jackson was another guy who looked familiar enough to me that I knew he must work at the show in some regards. I noticed that he was looking at me like he was waiting to meet me. Jackson noticed as well and quickly introduced us. “Oh, sorry, I don’t think you’ve officially met. Zade, this is one of our other guitarists, Dave. Dave, this is Zade.”
One of the most boring parts of a book (and the least fun to write) are scenes were people meet other people. We know how introductions are supposed to go, and we suffer through them. But they’re especially bland when written like this:
“Nice to meet you, Zade.”
“Nice to meet you too, Dave.”
I just passed out from extreme boredom. Like 15% of this book is people meeting Zade and us having to see the introductions. And this is absolutely infuriating for reasons I will explain later.
The band has to go on stage, but Lani tells Jackson:
“Sure, sounds great. I’ll be…right here waiting for you.”
Jackson laughed as he caught my reference to his own joke from the day he gave me my tour.
Ah, yes. Another timely and current reference to Richard Marx, whom all the groovy kids are digging these days. Far out.
Mac, Tad, Cam, and Riley approach her, and Mac hugs her so he can whisper in her ear.
“Looks like Tad was right, again. Jackson definitely is hitting on you.”
I started to pull away and just as our faces were directly in front of each other I softly and quietly said–so only he could hear: “Jealous?” I asked, and I raised my eyebrow.
Nobody can say she doesn’t thoroughly tag dialogue. There are two here for a single spoken word.
We have to hear about her greeting and hugging each of the guys, who refer to her as “Sweets” and “Pretty Girl,” because we’ve gone almost twenty minutes without someone reminding us that Zani Larem is so super beautiful.
Zarno explains how the band is about to take the stage and the entire bar is packed.
“They are pretty popular in town and rumor has it they may get a record deal soon. They really are amazing.” He seemed to be genuinely proud of his friends.
Gosh, Lani, it’s awfully nice of you to give the Plain White T’s a shot at the big time.
I noticed an older man walk on to the side of the stage. He was tall and only slightly overweight.
I don’t understand this description. It makes it sound like all middle-aged men are overweight or expected to be.
Lizneyland notes that the crowd goes wild for the guy, so I’m not sure if this is supposed to be some wink wink nudge nudge clever cameo like the woman with the Yorkies in Fifty Shades Darker or something. But speaking of the crowd, there are women in it and they’re all terrible.
Most of the crowd pushing and shoving at the front were female and by the way they reacted you would have thought they had just found out Justin Beiber was coming on to the stage.
Lanzar is way too cool to like Justin Beiber, obviously. Only the other females do that. And she’s Not Like Other Girls™.
I got why they all pushed and shoved their way up, but I chose to hang back. It wasn’t because that’s what Mac, Riley, Cam and Tad were doing–though had they gone up front I would have joined them.
See, she’s not a poser follower like the rest of the people there. She makes up her own mind. Until her friends do something different. But she’s totally not doing stuff just because they are. Even when she is.
Zarni would rather just watch the crowd and let her toxic internalized misogyny leak out like fluids from a damaged mausoleum:
Some of the girls were looking over at the guys with googly eyes and bemused expressions on their faces. Some looked like they were giving the guys their smoldering “come hither” stares. Lastly, there were the girls who were pretending to ignore them as if they weren’t there; when it was even more obvious they were trying hardest to get the boys’ attention. I laughed at how funny the whole thing was.
You know what’s really funny, Zingo? The fact that you constantly talk about not trying too hard, but you tried on something like eight dresses to pick just the perfect outfit for the evening, then you walked into the bar and pretended to ignore one of the guys you’re interested in…kind of like how the girls in the crowd appear to be ignoring the guys in the band. Oh, and remember how after all that, you said you were trying to look like you belonged in the bar? But yeah, women are so stupid and pathetic because they try too hard. Not you, though. You’re Not Like Other Girls™.
PS. to this recent spate of authors using the word incorrectly: bemused means puzzled or confused. It doesn’t mean wryly amused or lusty or dreamy. It means confused.
People-watching was one of my favorite pastimes, and I’m pretty sure I was witnessing people-watching at its finest.
No, you’re witnessing people at their finest. Unless you have a really high opinion of your people-watching skills. Which you might. This is you we’re talking about.
The guys take the stage and the women become even more insufferable to Lozo.
The crowd screamed so loudly and the high pitch of some of the girls was enough to make my ears hurt; I’m fairly positive that I lost a few decibels from my hearing range.
Besides her friends, the middle-aged guy who introduced the band, and the bartender, the only people in this club seem to be women Zendar can’t stand. I wonder why that is…
Time for another pop culture reference the kiddies will go wild over!
I had to yell over the crowd pretty loudly to be heard at all. “Wow, it’s like they’re *NSYNC and they got the band back together or something!” I shouted–to Riley, mainly, though I’m sure Mac, Cam, and Tad heard me too.
Keeping in mind that whether or not this book qualifies as YA, it was marketed as YA and this reference is fifteen years old. And I know this because my son is about to turn fifteen (and is, therefore, the age of a YA reader), and he was born the year *NSYNC “went on hiatus”. Now, obviously, there are going to be teenagers who’ve heard of, are peripherally aware of, or hell, might even be fans of the group. And I don’t have an issue with people making references to things before their intended audience was born, as long as those references make some kind of sense. I wasn’t born when Sonny and Cher had a television show, but it was such a cultural phenomenon that I instantly know who you mean if you say Sonny and Cher. But this was a reference inserted specifically to name drop someone famous that Sarem knows: her cousin, JC Chasez, who is listed in the epic acknowledgment section.
Zando asks Riley about the names of the guys in the band and where they work at the show because twenty percent of the dialogue in this book is wasted on throwing an impossible number of generic male names at the reader. Dave, Tim, Tom, Mike, Cam, Riley, Tad, Trig, Tripp, Track, Bristol, Piper…
I got off track at some point. Anyway, De’Mar Hamilton, the real-life drummer from Plain White T’s, is mentioned by name but doesn’t meet Larnda or fawn over how amazing she is anywhere in this scene. I wonder why…

And though his name is written “De’Mar” in any article I could find, Miss “everyone has a hard time saying my name and oh my god it’s the worst thing ever get it right!” styles it as, “De’mar.”
It’s okay, though, because Zumba is apparently mystified by names. Riley refers to the band on stage, the band that has been called Plain White T’s by name in multiple chapters now, as “the T’s,” and she’s all:
I gathered from Riley’s comment that “the T’s” must be a shortened version of the band’s name.
Thank you, Sherlock Holmes, for your expert analysis there. Way to go, Basil of Baker Street, for clearing up that mystery.
This is another problem with this book: the author thinks the readers are stupid. Hence the over-explaining of everything. Trust your readers to realize that Riley isn’t suddenly talking about another, similarly named band.
Lazi thinks about how great it is that this struggling little band is making good and getting a record contract, that Pete (“Trig”) can never get to a social event on time, what the songs sound like, and how she’s surprised at how packed the venue is:
By my best guess, there actually were close to four hundred people–if not more–who all seemed to know all the words to the band’s original songs and would sing along, scream, and dance. They were true fans of this band. This was a real concert and the band was really good.
She’s told us a few times that the band is good, to the point that it’s starting to sound condescending.
They play “Stay,” a real song that she describes as “sassy”. I braced myself for a list of lyrics, but she must not have been given permission to use them. You can see them here. They are beyond obvious.
Time for a writing tip:
I felt Mac lean into me and I could feel his breath on my neck and ear.
“Mac leaned into me and his breath skated over my neck and ear.” You can you use whatever verb you like for his breath to do. I just pulled that one off the top of my head. The point is, “I felt this happen,” as opposed to “this happens” takes readers a step back from the action, which is what you don’t want to do.
Mac warns Zerg that Jackson is a good guy, but he’s so busy with the band and work that he won’t have much time for romance, and Lipizzan thinks about the kiss in the rain:
Had it been just a one-time thing? Did Mac think we were dating?
Hey, do you know what could clear this up? Asking him, since he’s standing right next to you. But if she did that, the romantic tension would be resolved and she would have to work on the actual magickkkkkkkkkkk subplot. Mac is more direct and asks her if she likes Jackson.
“I don’t know. I don’t really know him. But I always keep my word, so I’m going to have a drink with him. I don’t plan to do anything further.” I paused and looked Mac directly in the eye before adding, “He did technically ask me out before anything happened with us, though.” I felt my right eyebrow rise as I looked into his eye and my eyelashes bat unconciously.
Nothing gets me more revved up than when two characters express attraction to each other in exactly the same way as Disney animals. And note that while Zimba spent most of the last chapter agonizing over how she feels torn between Mac and Jackson, she’s now saying she doesn’t know Jackson at all. She’s torn between the love of two men, one who she has spent time with and had these supposedly deep conversations. She’s kissed him dramatically in the rain. And Jackson…well, he plays guitar and calls her pretty. Such a tough choice.
I had come to enjoy the fact that Mac and I always seemed to have frank and honest conversations. Maybe our conversations were so open because our first interactions had started with both of us being very bold and straightforward and telling each other what was on our minds–typically with as much passion as we could muster.
Yeah, the only things you can’t talk about in these frank and honest discussions is shit like, “are we dating?” and “what was that kiss about?” If we’re meant to believe that she and Mac have this truly amazing connection that can’t be denied, they should be able to simply ask these questions of each other.
But then, after much wangst over how she needs answers but she can’t talk to him/hopes they won’t talk about it, they talk about the kiss. She asks Mac if he only kissed her because Jackson hit on her, and he says he doesn’t know. He only asked her to go riding because Jackson hit on her, though.
I already felt anxious about being in the middle between Jackson and Mac. I had never been in that kind of position, and I could tell that it was going to make my life much more complicated.
I thought it was important to include that excerpt so that we’re all aware that she’s torn between two men and she’s confused and everything is really complicated and interesting I SWEAR IT’S INTERESTING PLEASE KEEP READING.
Seriously, you can’t just keep telling your reader, “Don’t worry, the plot is on the way, I swear. No, seriously, any time now, something is going to happen.” You want me to see how complicated Lobot’s life is? Show me. Don’t tell me. Show me.

Obviously, these complications don’t arise right now. Because it’s much easier to put them off until later:
All I could think at the time was that I needed to do some card readings on all of it, but that wasn’t going to happen in the bar. I was going to have to go home and start looking at the possibilities before I took anything too much further.
Further than…kissing a guy and going to a show at a bar? You have to consult your cards over little shit like that? Look, I’m not putting down anyone who does a lot of card readings. I’ve done them for over twenty years now (and this summer I started doing them on Fiverr, so if you ever want your Lenormand or Tarot done on the cheap, hit me up) and when I started out, of course, I did them for everything I could think of. Because I was a teenager. Life is scary and uncertain when you’re a teenager and you need answers to questions like, “Does Bianca like girls?” or risk accidentally outing yourself. But Zindy is an adult, working with other adults, two of whom have expressed direct interest in her. Step one is talking to them to figure out if a reading is actually necessary. Because she might sit down for her drink with Jackson and go, “You know, no reading required here, nothing is clicking.” That won’t be how things go down, obviously, because she’s majjikkkkhaaaal or whatever and clearly when you’re majjjikkkkhaaaaal you don’t need to do anything as mundane as talking to people.
In any case, the “I have to consult the mhystykal forces” thing is only in here at this point as an excuse for not furthering the plot at all.
For the moment I just had to wonder what to do like everyone else. Maybe I didn’t like this “normal” thing so much, after all.
Yeah, those poor mundies, forced to live their lives as norms, totally closed off from teh mhajikks. I’m starting to get a real strong sense that Linda has a lot in common with those obnoxious, crushed-velvet witches who say patronizing things about anyone who isn’t part of some Pagan tradition. And don’t hop in the comments like, “RELIGIOUS PERSECUTION AGAINST WITCHES IS REAL HOW DARE YOU!” because a) religious persecution against anyone not-Christian is present throughout the entire freaking western world and neo-pagans are fairly low on the list when people start gearing up for religious genocide, and b) people executed for witchcraft in other parts of the world aren’t being executed because they held a Mabon ritual in their backyard. Here, you’re more likely to lose your job because you wore a pentacle to work (which is still not okay) but it’s not ZOMG YE OLDE BURNING TYMES. Believe me, I’ve gotten my fair share of “you’re in league with Satan” and “LOL Wiccans” over my on-again-off-again paganism, but sixty-eight percent of the persecution witches face in America is people making fun them for exactly this kind of “I’m not like everyone else and it’s too bad you’re not special and touched by ~*majik*~ like I am,” behavior. And at least ten percent of that is coming from other pagans.
Wow, I’ve had that rant in me a minute, haven’t I? #MyCovenFuckedMeUp
Moving on, how, oh how, oh how how how can we possibly get through a scene where a self-insert goes to see a concert without the obligatory “he’s singing to me” scene?
Towards the end of their set the band launched into another ballad. A slow-grooved rock song with a pretty sparkly pop hook called “Someday You’re Gonna Love Me.” I couldn’t be quite sure, but it almost felt like this song was directed at me. The lyrics said something about allowing the girl time to go have fun cause the guy was going to just wait around because, well, “someday you’re gonna love me.” It was a super sweet, romantic thought. The chorus felt like it was being sung just for me, and Jackson’s eyes were definitely looking directly at mine while he sang.
Jackson was looking directly at her over the heads of four hundred people in a crowded bar. Also, Harry Styles can pick one girl out of the crowded arena and instantly fall in love with her.
At least it sure felt like he was, or maybe I’m just that girl who think she’s being sung to at a concert and really isn’t. Maybe from the stage, with the lights in his eyes, Jackson couldn’t even see me and was just looking at the random faces in the crowd.
Oh, she referenced the trope, so clearly she didn’t just engage in it.
I glanced over toward where Mac was standing, hoping to find him still engulfed in a conversation. I found myself wishes he hadn’t even noticed what I thought had just happened. Instead he was staring right at me and he had clearly witnessed the possible profession from Jackson. I only allowed myself to catch his gaze for a second before looking away and pretending that I hadn’t even seen him staring. I suddenly felt overwhelmed at the possibility of something that may not have even actually happened.
Here’s our confirmation that yes, Jackson was singing directly to Leslie. Another person noticed it. All this does, by the way, is ramp up the internal drama. So far, there’s been barely any external conflict in this passionate, confusing, all-consuming love triangle.
The next three songs are “upbeat,” so dancers from the magic show all run over to get down with Lalan Zalda. After the concert is over and the guys have greeted their fans, it’s time for the long-awaited date with Jackson. I can’t wait to see them engage in witty back and forth to establish the connection between them.
I was quickly learning that he was very easy to talk to and was actually very funny. Although I hadn’t planned it, I found myself flirting with him. His smile was hard to resist and the more time I spent with him, the more I could swear his eyes would sparkle on cue. We talked a lot about music. He suggested that I should come up sometime and play a song with them during a show. I joked that I wasn’t sure he could afford me, but agreed it would be fun and said I would–sometime.
And that’s it. There’s no dialogue at all between Jackson and Zarius Laesar on their date.
Do you know how I can tell that Jackson isn’t really a love interest? Because the author is more interested in writing long, painful introduction scenes with dialogue like, “It’s nice to meet you,” and “It’s nice to meet you, too,” than showing us any meaningful interaction between the protagonist and this guy she’s apparently caught in an anguished dilemma over. Rather than showing us any of the important action, she tells us about the action that happened, only to immediately move on to a long sequence of every other character that has been mentioned so far saying goodbye to each other.
And the thing is, she’s not even listening to Jackson through much of their conversation. To sum up what happens after just a couple of paragraphs of Lini talking to Jackson (including a part where she notices Mac watching her and they share a secret smile…sorry, Jackson), we see:
Tad asking Mac if he wants to leave
Riley being too drunk to walk out of the bar
All three of them having a conversation together that Larno observes while presumably ignoring Jackson
The conversation includes working out how Tad and Mac are going to get Riley and his car home
Tad hugging everyone and coming over to tell Zader that Jackson was hitting on her
Mac and Zindar sharing a lingering glance
Zeb and Cam working out who’s giving who a ride
Tim and Tom talking about speakers
Despite the fact that Zelicity is so torn and confused over her complicated love triangle, nearly every minor character in this concert scene has more dialogue than Jackson, even when we reach this highly anticipated and totally confusing and emotional date that is the entire point of the chapter, and all of that dialogue is inconsequential nonsense.
Even after Mac (who is clearly the only love interest here, but for some reason, Sarem felt she absolutely had to have a love triangle in the book) leaves, this is all we get:
It was nearly four in the morning when I finally made it home. I’d stayed at the bar with Jackson for a while after everyone else had left, and found that it was much easier to relax around him once Mac was gone.
That’s it. That’s all. Just “it was much easier to relax around him.” Let me reiterate:
THERE IS NOT A SINGLE LINE OF DIALOGUE ON THEIR WHOLE ENTIRE DATE.
This is bad writing, in case you haven’t figure that out.
Well, that’s it for this recap. Next week I’m going to probably do things a little bit differently, because of the grossly inaccurate and stupidly written tarot reading in the next section. I’m thinking of making a video (which I will caption), because it will be difficult to explain it as described in book, and I’d like to rant in real time.
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