Cancer 17°

Sorry folks I deleted the last post apparently I don’t know what month it is. So Moon in Capricorn not Sagittarius. Mars and Sun are conjunct opposing a conjunct of Moon and Pluto. That’s intense. Mars is pure directive energy named for the war god, it is survival of the fittest, competitive, aggressive. We might all be feeling ourselves. Pluto Moon spells transformation on a deep emotional and psychological level. Pluto, named for the god of death and the underworld, symbolic of the subconscious, signals endings which are only ever regenerations. That means our relationships to experience—work, creative projects, rituals and, yes, relationships themselves—are changing, such that you won’t feel the same as you did before about some things. People, places, things may be knocked off pedestals and Self-Reliance becomes the theme of the weekend.

Identity issues are playing a big part today. Beware of being co-dependent. For me that means being mindful to not be too forgiving. I really am a pushover when it comes to sincere emotions. If someone is contrite, even though they may’ve done me wrong, I find it hard not to soften. I suppose it’s simpler that way; in some ways; not all. But it never adds up to anything positive to voice your opinions in certain situations; people can hold a grudge against you for magnanimously pointing out grievous errors, even those for which, say, if you were to sue, you’d win. But the squeaky wheel doesn’t always get oiled. Sometimes it gets removed and replaced with a new one.

Typos happen—I don’t have time or an intern to edit.*

Copyright 2017 Wheel Atelier Inc. All Rights Reserved.

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Cancer 16°

The first most important thing I said to you and Emma before we moved forward into any other conversation was that Glow Festival was its own entity, with its own brand identity and its non-profit status. I said we can’t move forward without that understanding and you agreed. I have said, in writing and in conversation that our logo needs to appear on every bit of print or media collateral. I hammered that point home when we went over the webpages. I have asked to see anything you’ve created in print or web and have been shown nothing. Never mind the fact that you would have had to consult me on anything advertising my company—although that’s the point isn’t it, these ads don’t advertise the company that is the Glow Festival, you credit yourself as the producer in these ads, stamping your logo on an ad for something called Glow Festival featuring my artists.

If this morning is any indication then the Full Thunder Moon tonight , just after midnight, is going to be s w e e p i n g…….Moon in Sagittarius a sign ruled by Jupiter, named for the chief god who is armed with lightning and thunderbolts; a mutable-fire sign befitting that fire in the sky synonymous with flashes of genius on one hand and the devastation of excess on the other.

You may have noticed from the previous post that I have been having an issue, without naming names. But, in case I do need a pro bono lawyer, the publication of that last Blague will serve as a reminder to me of what has been going down. I’d like to think people are stupid rather than cruel, but I suppose both states of mind come under the heading of thoughtless.

It’s boring being right all the time. And the good one, so-called, who does everything thoughtfully and thoroughly and ever in consideration of how it affects others. It’s so much work being constantly forgiving. Few people take into account the collateral destruction of their moves. I’m tired of always picking up some sword of righteousness, I really am. Shadiness is an effect, even, when it’s not an intention.

Anyway the atmosphere feels thick. Where we live there are chickens—two coops in fact, divided by age group. The older hen house is currently going nuts. One time last year they screamed like this and a fox had taken one of them. That doesn’t seem the situation today. And they are all inside, not out in the pen so I can’t tell what’s up. And I don’t care. They are annoying and they make me sad. I hate the treatment of any animal as I thing. I can tell, even from the way they wish to interact with me on any given day, that they are sensitive and if not intelligent still sentient beings. Right now, though, I wish they’d just shut the fuck up.

I think there is something in the ether, though, all said. There is a tension in the air. Can you feel it? No because you’re not reading this. Nobody is. Someday someone might discover my Blague, or maybe I’ll even promote it, at some point but I really do have enough on my plate right now.

Typos happen—I don’t have time or an intern to edit.*

Copyright 2017 Wheel Atelier Inc. All Rights Reserved.

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Cancer 15°

I’m going to try and keep my voice from showing the full breadth of emotion I’m feeling over a collection of topics, but I know that my expressing any passion, especially where I have any worry or concern, I don’t want to represent myself as being angry. And I certainly don’t want to blow anything out of proportion. So its best to take points separately lest they create this compound tension.

We need to talk about money, which you alluded to in our last conversation when you said you were trying to “crunch the numbers” more in my favor. I heard what was empathy and perhaps a little guilt in your voice, which also harkened me back to that Sunday in February when you and D were together writing me emails. Something we never really talked about after the fact. Day drinking perhaps?

But let me relate some things to you that have said in my process with working with you guys before we get to the ad. Dating back to when A was there. Well, as you know over the years I have come in contact with people who have worked with O, performed there, did tech there and with a dozen people in the press, journalists and editors, and also people in grant world. With increasing regularity I get questions like so why did you choose O and then more leading questions like, well, are they making you pay a crazy guarantee? They will then go on to relate stories of various theater companies and creatives that have worked there and had terrible difficulties, all in regard to money. Weird fees, crazy fines and so on and so forth. I agreed to the ultimatum on price with the proviso that I would be shown itemized documentation of what I was paying for per night, as, and we discussed this, I actually need to break down being a 501 c 3 operation.

I think I was immune to this as producing B there and all of G series didn’t require me to pay any guarantee. When it came to the F I fought you on your very high guarantee but I was told you couldn’t do it otherwise, a stance you have since softened on. So here I am guaranteeing to pay you up to $9K, $9K of money that earned through donations to my non-profit company. It is my non-profit company that is in effect guaranteeing to rent the space and cover your costs. Never mind how flush or not flush O or ART are. My money is from people who give me donations.

The first most important thing I said to you and E before we moved forward into any other conversation was that Fwas its own entity, with its own brand identity and its non-profit status. I said we can’t move forward without that understanding and you agreed. I have said, in writing and in conversation that our logo needs to appear on every bit of print or media collateral. I hammered that point home when we went over the webpages. I have asked to see anything you’ve created in print or web and have been shown nothing. Never mind the fact that you would have had to consult me on anything advertising my company—although that’s the point isn’t it, these ads don’t advertise the company that is the F, you credit yourself as the producer in these ads, stamping your logo on an ad for something called F featuring my artists.

For shame.

Typos happen—I don’t have time or an intern to edit.*

Copyright 2017 Wheel Atelier Inc. All Rights Reserved.

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Cancer 14°

Lately days have been great and odd. And dreams have been o-t-t vivid. Spent a few hours on the beach yesterday in the town that I live which is Wellfleet where the beaches are the best on the planet to me. The beach combines everything I love in a beach: natural cliffs, but not too steep; many tidal pools and sandbars that creates all these little worlds, great often quite big waves for body surfing, my childhood sport (of which I had many dreams last night I realize while writing this) and diversity.

It’s funny because people would think that Wellfleet would be homogenous whereas Provincetown would be diverse. Not so. Provincetown beaches are pretty much segregated into “boy beach” which is far flung so people can get naked and do bad things; “lesbian beach” which is very close to the parking lot because they bring a lot of stuff; the sort of “townie” beach which is basically just an extension of the parking lot and their RVs and their mini grills. And then there is the far extension where people who fancy themselves the elite queers go (our beach); and then there are more serious off-road recreational folk. That’s it.

Whereas Wellfleet has surfers and Jewish intelligentia and ivy league lovers and heroin addicts and frustrated naturalists and families and rich, yacht-rocking Trump voters and supermodels and, though the beach might be super busy, the entire expanse is in absolute silence as if every person is sound-proofed, it is weird and truly amazing. So yeah, I need to add to that list in this paragraph to make my premise work—and I will. And I will come back and edit it and nobody will ever be the wiser.

I was meant to have a little bit of a break but I’l be heading to Boston this week to do some TV and radio. Suddenly commercials for “cool sculpting” where they freeze your fat away are holding a little bit of appeal. Anway I should be very grateful to be on television to promote what I’m doing. But pin in that….

Typos happen—I don’t have time or an intern to edit.*

Copyright 2017 Wheel Atelier Inc. All Rights Reserved.

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Cancer 13°

The 4th of July. Another one of those amateur-hour holidays where people get too drunk and too crazy. For our part we will sneak in to enjoy some festivities then sneak out again ere long.

The world, and surely American society, is a polarized place. And living where we do surrounded by type-A individuals with more dogs than kids and lots of disposable income it can seem ridiculously disparate. The truth is so many of the people here latched on early to some rich, older person who gaven them their start. Sex always seems to play a part. Especially when it involves other people’s money. Funny that Sex and Other People’s Money are attributes of the astrological 8th house. As is Death.

Anyway it won’t last long. I tend to get depressed if surrounded by too conspicuous a form of consumption. Or when I see half the people I know waiting on the other half. I’m too empathetic by half. I hope I’m not getting into Holden Caulfield or Seymour Glass territory if I can help it, as, I vaguely alluded to this yesterday, that I am wont to do in summer. Let’s just say, if we were to hang out together today, you might find me intense. I have a lot on my plate. And I’ve put myself under pressure—it’s my own doing and I trust I do what I do for a reason. I think I’m just wearying of life lessons learned. And still holding on to certain hurts, aren’t we all, seemingly in endless supply. And we all do stupid things of which we’re not proud, too, as a result. And we can’t beat ourselves up over that either. It’s important to come clean and express yourself.

There are few places on earth where I truly feel comfortable and I think Paris is surely one of them. I like the anonymity which never feels lonely. The city is so interactive on an intimate level and yet has this natural formality contained in grey stone, often capped with grey clouds. The perfect solitude. Some days I think I’d like to live in Paris and have a cook and a housekeeper and a lovely large apartment and then choose different places to go in summer including back home here where I must always have a place.

I don’t require much.

Cancer 12°

I recently came across a bit of old, good, green pot I had stashed, no doubt, in a moment of paranoia or resolve. I cannot remember when it could be from, but, of course, I had to smoke some, though nervous it would backfire and I’d end up in the emergency room with maladies imaginaires. But that didn’t happen. Instead it created a sensation of calm and cushioning that took me over, like a wave, much in the way it did in my youth until, somewhere in my thirties, it started triggering spinning siren lights and wails inside my brain. It returned me to a late-teenage sense of élan, of salad days, and it made me realize how far I am from feeling that kind of chill on any given day. Unfortunately or fortunately, there wasn’t enough of the green stuff to keep testing this effect which I would have undertaken with scientific apblomb. By the same token, it might have been playing Russian roulette with my nervous state. So it was just as well it was short-lived.

And anyway, I took away from this experience the notion that calm is closer than I think; and that I needn’t live my life in some kind of heightened state. PTSD. I know I have it. How can I not given the way I was raised and the rollercoaster circumstances of my adult life, devoid as it has been, of any real kind of support system other than the beloved obvious.

In some ways I think that’s why I work primarily as a consultant. It helps me to no end to help other people through their challenges. It’s almost a selfish career choice on my part. But back to the sensation that the pot imparted.

I didn’t so much as flashback, which I think is more a mental thing, than I did throwback emotionally to, I’m going to pinpoint it as: the age of seventeen. At seventeen, the summer before going to college, I didn’t work, which was rare for me since I always worked, since I was a high-school sophomore. Not having had a childhood, I had never read The Chronicles of Narnia, and my close friend Ken who was off to RISD that year gave me his entire set to read, which I did, all in one go, sitting alone, on the beach, in my low striped chair; after which I read Salinger’s Franny and Zoey, Raise High the Roofbeam, Carpenters and Seymour: An Introduction, and Nine Stories. I would go to the beach before 8am and return around 6pm, having quickly ran home, at lunch, to grab a something, as we lived just a block from the ocean.

It was a grand old house and I miss it. It was big and blue and had three floors and was set on a corner. We had a mullberry tree that was wonderful out front and a wrap-around porch. Of course my father “removed” the mullberry tree, I believe, because somebody in a car crashed into it and I suspect my father (lied and…?) said the tree was killed in the accident, probably for insurance money. He was that type about whom writing makes my arms and shoulders freeze up. I wouldn’t want to be smoking pot and thinking about the things my father did, or who he was, when I was growing up. That would surely impart the opposite sensation of that little bit of vegetal flavored pot which buffeted me so pristinely upon its finding last week.

Typos happen—I don’t have time or an intern to edit.*

Copyright 2017 Wheel Atelier Inc. All Rights Reserved.

Get your HAUTE ASTROLOGY 2017 Weekly Horoscope ebooks by Starsky + Cox

Cancer 11°

Today feels like the first hot day on the Cape. I made the mistake of going onto Facebook and seeing someone posting about this great old property in Provincetown, which I always dreamed of turning into a theater, which CVS wants to buy, but the town turned them down, so now CVS is suing the town.

One of Provincetown resident who fancies themselves an artist and an activist was urging people to sign a petition to stop CVS from doing whatever they’re doing while another resident, whom I believe has been in town way longer, was saying they wanted the cheaper meds that CVS would mean. Now, how much cheaper could CVS meds be than the existing Stop & Shop pharmacy and why do we need two pharmacies. But on the other hand, this person trying to “save” Provincetown from inauthenticity is someone who has never worked a day in their life and still had enough trust fund to buy a house and makes their money from renting to visitors who pay through the nose to be here in this increasingly gentrified landscape. Anyway, the irony was just ricocheting every which way.

The Spring is absolute bliss on Cape Cod and I always forget that fact until it gets horribly hot and there are people everywhere and the traffic is bumper to bumper and you can’t get on the beaches because all the lots are full. And so it goes. We hit the beach in the early morning or evening, especially, at low tides and walk and walk and walk and walk. I have in fact managed to learn to live life rather well, on not very much money I shoud say, enjoying certain luxuries other people have lived their whole lives for. I decided at thirty-years old, that I was going to live near the ocean and I haven’t not since.

After having been a homeowner for so many years, I gave that up nearly a decade ago. I’m ready to own again, I think. But the way of the world is that one is continually priced out of certain pictures. I really don’t want to be one of those people. And yet I’ve never really frontloaded material solvency so I can’t say, even, how possible that might be. I do know I can leave this neck of the woods and get a lot more for less; but there is something about this area that will forever be home and so I’m going to keep the vision of owning some groovy place here, by the sea, firmly in my minds eye.

I have so much on my plate these coming weeks. For one I’m trying to finish our Haute Astrology horoscope books for the coming year, and I have two festivals to plan and pull off and also a business plan to edit. And of course ye old fundraising for all that I do non-profit. That’s really just in the month ahead and I’m determined to make it fun and fabulous, even if it kills me.

Cancer 10°

So if you read yesterday’s posting you’d know: I had worked my way out of a Blague backlog where I had to write about thirty posts in a matter of days to catch up to myself; and, in part, to do so I created a questionnaire of thirty questions—I didn’t get to the last third (yet) because I was already ten posts in when I had this questionnaire idea—but I know I have a failsafe liferaft for emerging from another thirty days in the whole.

Okay so here’s the kicker: I was so excited I was catching up to myself that “before answering the last (20th) question I said something like…”before I begin let me say…a whole bunch of stuff….a lot more than I anticipated….and by the time I finished my tangent I forgot to read the last question let alone answer it.

So I came back to the post prepared to “add on” more, and address the question, but the question was so great and a bit poetic because (I don’t know how I knew the 20th question would be the last because I actually wrote 30) but it was in the form of a question that knew that I had reached my destination where I was ready to move forward into the light of day without that nagging feeling of being behind.

Now look, I get behind because I have so much to do. So I was thinking that once I caught up on the Blague I would try to combine writing the Blague into my day which also required a lot of writing (and the taking of pictures) to create content for my four websites—this Cosmic Blague, my two festival websites, and for the Starsky + Cox online headquarters as well. And I had this vision that I would emerge as this seamless itinerant, starting last night, as I headed into the center of Provincetown to meet with friends and visits other friends’ new businesses and restaurants, and see their gallery shows, and all this sort of fun stuff from which words and pictures are made.

I had even spent the journey into town telling Stella this entire story. How I didn’t read the question until after I wrote the Blague and how the question was so poetic and it even asked me, in cheeky interview style something like “could I know move forward in words and pictures” and basically not lose the momentum and create content as I go and make my connections and feel that sort of, yes, there it is, seamlessness. Then I spent the next three hours enjoying a perfect Provincetown night not once using my iphone camera.