On the way to the BlogAsheville Awards party, where I failed to win, I encountered a Fortune Teller reading the palm of a man dressed as a chicken.
I stopped a moment to watch the chicken man and the gypsy woman. The man in the chicken suit bobbed his feathered head in understanding as the fortune teller foretold his fate, his rubber waddle nervously wavering under his chin. Deep fried or fricasseed, who knows?
No one else in Pack Square seemed to give the bizarre, LSD-flashback like scene a second glance. That's Asheville. Come as you are. At first, I regretted that I didn't have my trusty camera handy, but, in retrospect, I'm glad I didn't. The scene is better left to the imagination: a man in a chicken suit and a fortune teller sitting on blanket in the middle of the town square—it's better in the mind's eye, yes.
As it turned out, that was the highlight of the evening. Like I said, I came up empty in the reward column, but the biggest prize is being in Asheville to see the Chicken Man and the Fortune Teller… and the hobos, the musicians, the winos, the neo-hippies, and the tourists who come for a fleeting glimpse of the magic. Maybe next year I'll win, maybe not. For me it'll be a victory if I'm able to continue doing what I love for another glorious year: blogging, writing, and enjoying life here along the Blue Ridge. Nothing could be finer.
To all those who took the time to vote for me, I thank you. Your support and good wishes are what motivates me to keep this blog going. And to dream of other New Media projects, like my recently completed A Year in Asheville blog, that might make you smile, wonder, and think.
Photograph by youheisapunk.