Michael The Realistic Mystic

“You’re not as good as you think you are,” Michael The Realistic Mystic told me in the French Quarter of New Orleans.

I was in NOLA for a friend’s wedding. On the night before it, I’d drunkenly walked past Michael without noticing him in his beach chair on the sidewalk. I was lost in the humid, hedonistic spirit of the city, as well as the contents of my to-go cup filled with Coffee and Kahlua milkshake. But my friend Julia, who has an eye for mischief, saw Michael and tugged the back of my purple-beaded necklace to halt me. “Look,” she said, “It’s Michael The Realistic Mystic…