Virgo 17°

The first artist up this year at Afterglow is Phoebe Legere. I first met Phoebe in 1988. I was working at Avenue magazine’s tabloid called On The Avenue, while also editing a new downtown DV8* (one might even call it a zine nowadays) and I knew this publicist that was launching film Mondo New York which starred, among others like Joey Arias, Rick Aviles, Ann Magnuson, Karen Finley, Lydia Lunch and Phoebe.

Phoebe was also working on The Toxic Avenger Part 2 at the time. Anyway I interviewed Phoebe, who was determined to tell me that she was way more Mayflower stock than Roxanne Pulitzer, who I had also interviewed (for some reason); anyway Phoebe got me an extra part in the Avenger film which entailed standing around with a bunch of other weirdos down in some marble-lobbied building near Wall Street. I was wearing precious little that much I know—we (the extras) were supposed to be assembled minions of evil or something. There was a lot of hammy snarling.

I contacted Phoebe and had her come to Provincetown in the summer of 2014 for a one-off on-season series but that was a bust, not just for Phoebe, but for everybody. I’m excited that World of Wonder has become a Sponsor that is great news. Everything old is new again.

We had our opening party and dinner last night. I wish people who say they’re coming to things would actually show up. We ended up being half the amoutn of people last night for the dinner portion and the amazing chef/owner Raina, at Baie, put out quite a spread. Honestly I could eat it all again. I can’t even begin to say how delicious the food was.

We are staying in a condo in Provincetown, an old house divided into many untis, a word I never want to use again. I don’t know who in their right mind would spend money to live in such tiny cramped quarters as these. It’s a joke honestly. I’m sitting outside right now on a “porch” and just behind my head is someone else’s porch and they’re outside right now as well. Without looking around, I can hear the sound of a measuring tape, the metal sliding in and out and stepping back. I would have OCD if I lived in a tiny condo. Obviously this person needs to measure to fit or build something. That’s all people do here in P-town is measure and build it seems. I can tell you how big it is, Queen, without looking: Small.

So yeah tiny turnout for the party. Meager ticket sales. A dearth of fundraising this year. Even my close friends who typically pony up have ignored the group emails to Dear Friends that have gone out. I don’t know. It’s the law of diminishing returns. Am I secretly done with trying to make this thing happen—saving Provincetown’s theatrical and performance heritage by running this non-profit—I think I might have to be.

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

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Virgo 16°

So Olivia de Havilland is 101 and change. It’s 2017. She was born in 1916. Let’s round down and say she’s been around 100 years. Eleanor of Aquitaine was born in 1122, roughly 900 years ago. 1122 was only nine Olivia de Havillands. The dark ages were just nine Olivia de Havillands ago. We went from living by the light of torches sleeping under animal skins around fires to cell phones and the internet and satellites and remote probes sent out into the far reaches of the solar system in just nine Olivia de Havillands. Jesus was only twenty Olivia de Havillands ago. Our history is so short and we think we’ve come so far, and in many ways we have.

Woke up today at 3:15. I should be gearing up for late nights instead I’m getting up earlier than farmers do. I suppose I’m worried or rather I am experiencing something that has taken the place of worry, a sort of resigned laziness and unwillingness to go the extra mile but instead let sleeping dogs lie. Let the chips all fall where they may. I made my to-do list and I’ll just have to work it and see what happens.

We will perform our holiday show at Joe’s Pub again this Christmastime. I got my dates rather late from the venue and it’s tricky getting band together on what is a bit of short notice for the sought-after musicians we work with. To make it easier on our musical director, especially, I’m going to go back through the annals and see what songs in our repetoire can be resurrected. I will make that a priority in the coming weeks. The concept of our shows now is on the theme of: The Twelve Signs of….(fill in the blank), in this case Christams, Solstice, Winter, etc. But we can be loose. Indeed we are about to get a whole bunch looser.

Last night I did a Google search of “Afterglow 2017” and this page came up for a nearby resort here in Provincetown that was claiming to have a partnership with us and were thus advertising using our name as a promotion code, the whole nine yards. I wrote them and they were not at all contrite nor very apologetic, in fact they seemed vicitimized to have been accused. Don’t you just love with perps act like the injured party? I know I do.

It’s time to be funny a little bit more all the time. I think I’ll try that as my mantra.

Typos happen—I don’t have time or an intern to edit.*
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Virgo 15°

Woke up at 3:50 this (and that was as far as I got at 6:02 this morning, leaving me to fill in the entry now after 3:13 in the afternoon). Today has been light and lively so far. We did a local radio show which was fun; and then the usual cooking—still on daily roasted salmon with avocado, heirloom cherry tomato and mesclun lunch, and “healing” soup dinner; tomorrow I get to eat GF pasta. I know I should be imprisoned for this but I’m going to have it nonetheless. I hope you know I’m kidding slash parodying myself.

I have the sense again of meeting myself. I notice I’m just not that stressed out, even though my Stop & Shop blood-pressure reading might say otherwise. I do need to monitor things more carefully and I need to move around more—the complaint of any writer—and take my daily constitutionals.

We actually listened to ourselves on the radio and got lost in the interview, transported. Isn’t that funny? First of all we never listen back to things like that and, second, if we do we usually think it’s lacking or just awful listening to the sound of ones voice. But something today worked. I need to get a recording of it. I need to keep better track of all my press. I feel a to-do list coming on…

• Stay up to date on this Blague (I currently am)
• Confirm who is/isn’t coming to the party.
• Run down the list of Sparklers and Sponsors who might still give—and send plea.
• Start widening the scope of people who can give last minute.
• Touch base with Sponsors and get a feel for what they might like to see.
• Urge people to see shows.
• Pick up passes. Update Sparkler list for box office.
• Print out work needed to do on HA books while festival is on.
• Begin to archive all the press working backward.
• . Also archive all S + C songs thus far/pull for Xmas show at Joe’s Pub.
• . Work with B to get grants in work by October
• Create larger timeline of projects over the next several months
• Work on language for 12 Signs Of….

That was probably cheating a bit but when a list starts rolling out of your head it’s best to write that shite down at the time. The above doesn’t include the project work I work on every day or clients of any of the things I’ve been listing here these past days as a means of self-therapy. Somehow saying “out loud” the things that all form a thousand piece jumble in my head really keeps me from total neuron fritz out. I am uniquely capable of juggling a lot, and I don’t let much slip through the cracks.

The owner of the former venue at which I produced Afterglow for the past six years reached out overnight to wish me luck. It was actually very nice of him to do so. I think he misses me and on some weird level I miss him too. But things change as well they should. I’m very into being as laid back as I can these days. I just want to take a chill approach to work, even if it means I’m not getting as much done as I usually do.

My whole mojo right now is like a little whatevs. I don’t know where it’s coming from. S was saying today how she feels like she’s on drugs. I get it. There is something immediately surreal in our perceptions of life once September hits. It’s still summer, officially, but after years of going back to school as a child, September somehow exposes the emptiness of not going back to school. I want to go back to school on some level. Not yet sure what that means.

I guess I’ll find out tomorrow. No I won’t.

Typos happen—I don’t have time or an intern to edit.*
Copyright 2017 Wheel Atelier Inc. All Rights Reserved.
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Virgo 14°

On top of it all, we have costumes to put together for a fancy dress party in Scotland. I didn’t use “fancy dress” to be sound affected but rather to find a synonym for costumes, as I don’t love repeating myself.

Hopefully nobody’s reading this but we’re going to go as a post-apocalyptic Melania and Barron sort of zombies but with some Mary-Jesus overtones (did you notice that Melania worke della robbia blue to the corona-…I mean the inauguration?

I don’t know dear reader me thinks I might be barking up the totally wrong tree here. Or let’s make that trees plural. I am in a period of things ending me-thinks and I really need to look at my solar return chart even though I don’t really know my birth time just vicinity surrounding.

I try not to sound too reactive to things. It’s one of my whatever you call its in twelve-step programs meaning fatal flaws. I’ll think of it. Anyway, I feel myself in a mental-nervous spin down and I’m want to catch myself. I think that this is what this time is for: The joy that can be had from purposefully keeping your head above water, exercising your will to maintain integrity.

Some part of my brain likes to write.

It’s ironic, paradoxical that this is the most dire year yet in regard to fundraising for my festival, and lots of other things are unraveling (one of our artist’s shows is called Unraveling btw). We are coming to another crossroads where things that have been traditionally in place are no longer available. The kicker is that I’m finding myself getting a feeling of elation from things falling apart. I get a visual flash in my mind of a modern northern city. That’s the celtic witch “visual feelings” thing I get.

The truth is I need to build my non-profit work as a business and I’m down for doing that. I will certainly get to the lemniscate year; and I will surely try out the touring bit, but I can no longer get locked into personal weirdnesses with people. This was an off year, what with the oaf and all.

What is becoming clear: I want to perform and I almost feel urged, as a form of survival, to give it the greatest go. Performing as a duo or solo almost feels now like a life raft I’m clinging to. Things fall apart and we need let them. Things are the universe, the grand other with which you are having a relationship—that is a searing aspect of Aquarius, ruled by Uranus, personification of the universe. Uni (one) verse? Well, in French, I know, Aquarius is verseau, meaning vessel (grail, cup) of the Water Bearer, so the universe is one big vessel pouring, what?, itself?

Typos happen—I don’t have time or an intern to edit.*
Copyright 2017 Wheel Atelier Inc. All Rights Reserved.
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Virgo 13°

…at long last I can speak the language once again. I understand.

But back to the world of ideas—that Geminian bastion of genius. What if we had an open house and everything in every room was for sale, because we will have made displays and even #’d the items and it would be something like by appointment meets an open house. We would give a bag to each visitor and put their name on it and let them go to town shopping. And we would advertise it on my festival thrift shop page and we would make some kind of fun Afterglow event about it. And we can do it next September. Just an idea for clearing out everything non-essential to my life. “When things aren’t adding up, substract.”

This was just one of the many ideas discussed yesterday on an incredible beach stroll, from Newcomb Hollow to Cahoon Hollow before the rains came. I am full up with plans and yet I see my primary job as being able to just shut up and work instead of being torn in so many directions.

But the truth is I have a festival in less than a week that I’m producing, promoting and for which I’m fundraising. Then the series at Harvard starts with John Kelly the following week. Then Stella performs her show in New York first week October before we go to Europe, business plan in hand; returning for another show at Harvard then planning NYC rehearsals for our Starsky + Cox holiday show at Joe’s Pub.

Meanwhile we will have discussed the book proposal I wrote with a new agent. I will have written all my year-ahead horoscope books for release in November. I will written a feature for Glamour (if all goes well) serviced our many clients, written that new holiday show and have shopped around that business plan in London, Paris, New York, Boston and beyond.

And I write a Blague everyday.

Now, with that enormity often comes daily dearth brought on by said enormity: I also have to wash, eat, clean, cook, shop, eat, run errands, return emails and attempt to exercise. Funny how other people have time for yoga, massage, oil pulling, pedicures, facials, hair appointments and so forth. No wonder I’m still wearing the same clothes I wore ten years ago. I don’t have time to cultivate a wardrobe. I do, but you know what I mean. Anyway sometimes I have to do all of the above, and even if I don’t, I might just stare at an empty page on this screen.

Today was one of those days where everything seemed scrambled and nobody seemed to be speaking the same language. My many texts and emails were all miscommunication and confusion. It seems that we are culturally holding our breath and none of us are perhaps making the moves we might otherwise make. There’s little release, no great delieveries. It’s like our collective social atmosphere is constipated.

There is a certain pointlessness, perhaps. Because you think, no matter what you do, you’re going to remember there’s an orange dolt in the White House whose latest antic is to act something like a democrat, while still doing diabolical things like trying to dismantle DACA. So why bother, right? It’s all a bit waah-waah as you’re washing up before bed, some with their glasses off, Rachel Maddow a blackish blur on TV in the next room. And it’s September and very Virgo-y. Gooey. Sticky. Like toffee or taffy, Virgo (mutable-earth) is malleable but just barely.

Typos happen—I don’t have time or an intern to edit.*
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Virgo 12°

I know it isn’t easy to be uplifted these days. All the more reason to get out there and offer people home. We must get beyond the petty antics of others, a challenge when those we put in power embody the worst of humanity. But never mind. Speak truth to power and keep fighting the good fight, waving your sword of righteousness and powering through.

What trips up most people is the feeling they should have more. As if the people we see on television conspicuously consuming have it all sewn up on some level. They don’t. Most people who are glutted by materialism struggle for happiness. Those of us who have aced that particular test, slayed that very dragon, need nothing from the material world. We know where our true riches lie.

One must feel themselves going in a direction and not feel stuck. Momentum is the natural state. I think of my friends with fame and fortune. I see them mainly taking to social media to shove it down others’ throats. Why they need that I can only wonder. To want nothing is true bliss. To count ones blessings and enjoy the here and now is our birthright. To do good works is the only job you have.

I harken to the days of peaceful surrender. I want all of life to be that. And I feel very strongly that it can. I wish to tend my own garden peacefully and if I can’t do it thus then it is not my plot—double entendre intended. I have all that I need and I wish for nothing. I will move seamlessly from this place to that but my home shall be immutable. The news of the world will not enter here. Not until the last bomb drops or the last slave is free. I cannot hold any truth to be self evident but for the right of freedom.

The leaf falls, the crow splashes in what’s left of the birdbath. The white rose turns pink as it passes away. I dreamed of swimming in the ocean, riding waves, popping up to see I was very near a large slick black seal. I saw shadows in the water presumed to be sharks and I awoke. I was unafraid in my own shallow waters.

I can pass through. I will arrive and I will stay and I will leave. Nobody will be affected by me and that is for the best. I cannot manufacture feeling and I can not solicit love. I can only move from moment place, one room, one road at a time. I will snake through the cobbled streets of Paris slick with rain, my heels clacking. I will have walked this path before. I won’t see anything new. I will sip wine and dissolve into the cool surrounding stone. I will be now like the spirit I will become.

I will leave the world behind. This world. This godforsaken place devoid of spirit. I will find myself a corner, like the Cathars, in some land made holy by my sole belief. I will sit in the golden glare of grand cafés longing for the return of cultures that killed themselves with smoke and ask: What is the equivalent of future longing in my present lifetime? For now I cannot see it. My postmodern mind purchased the test answers from a sketchy character. I will slip behind buildings and find that door, that secret entrance where, in a gold lamé gown, one breast exposed, she bids me welcome with ominous laughter while her partner counts the heads with prices attached.

Typos happen—I don’t have time or an intern to edit.*
Copyright 2017 Wheel Atelier Inc. All Rights Reserved.
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Virgo 11°

When I think about letting myself stay some place for a good long time, traveling around Italy let us say over the course of a month or six weeks, I get anxious, which is a new sensation associated with this sort of thing. And so all the more reason to get over it. I think it will be fantastic to spend the time this autumn in Europe as planned, come home and do a whole lot of early spring cleaning in January and, come February, hightail it back to Europe and stay until earliest April, when I have another show in Cambridge.

Why not really get to know Italy. And then every six months or every year, if need be, pick another country. A country a year for the next thirty years? Why not? That to me sounds incredibly life affirming. And something for which I’d like to be relaxed and thin (so I can wear anything and feel in my skin). Like the Zodiac says, with it’s first house of the physical Self, I need to work on my own cult of the body. Which is fun and actually the antidote to any kind of sag in confidence; or rather put it this way, if we took the Spartan ideal of focusing on the physique, first, an attempt at physical perfection, that would surely foster whatever natural confidence, read swagger, one might have. And, again to look at the Zodiac’s twelfth house which precedes it, we have to dissolve away all impediments first, to gain that spiritual sense of floating, drifting, being at one with the mists and foams and fogs so that we can emerge from them in the most surrendered of fashion. All of this (and more, probably) to illustrate a feeling I’m chasing, a halcyon spirit.

It is something we have taken for granted, that calm we thought would always be there. And it wasn’t a surplus of good hard work which sought to undermine it. It was the indulgence of relaxation and ignorance of the body, that temple of flesh and blood that must be exercised and shaped. But we needn’t beat ourselves up about not re-starting some physically challenging regimen (first house), instead we might focus on the energetic (the immaterial twelfth house) aspect of self, where we are pure energy as all matter is. When we imagine ourselves as such, the space between our atoms can release all that is gathered there, whether we see it as tension or something denser. That’s where I’m trying to live these next two weeks—in the purely mutable waters of my truest being.

Typos happen—I don’t have time or an intern to edit.*
Copyright 2017 Wheel Atelier Inc. All Rights Reserved.
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Virgo 10°

Waking up to Facebook is depressing. It’s not because of any one thing like people being narcissistic, posting things that are meant to feel “greater than”, or people mourning their dead pets or parents, or making sour-grape statements about other people’s “greater than” posts, or the politics, or the anonymous infighting. It’s all of it. I have used Facebook because I promote things and create events and send invites to them; but this too has become a bit of law of diminishing returns as a medium. The site now limits how many invites you can send to events you’ve created and I don’t feel that many people are actually seeing my posts. I will be making my Facebook page a marquee and switching all my focus over to the business of Starsky + Cox, including the inclusion of this Blague which, let’s face it, has got to change back to what it originally was meant to be: Daily postings that were funny and cosmic-synchronistic i.e. Cosmic Jokey. It’s also time for me to stop playing all the instruments and to be the orchestra leader full stop. By the same token I want my own solo work to take precedent. I should look at my solar return chart for the coming year. The irony being that I don’t really know my own birth time.

Lucille Ball has a very simple and, one would think,obvious quote about loving yourself, which is always easier said than done: “Love yourself first and everything else falls into line. You really have to love yourself to get anything done in this world.” It really is truth. And I find that the first step in loving yourself, or the first symptom let’s say, is letting go of those who don’t celebrate (but only tolerate) you. You know who they are because you feel it. Feeling is knowing. You know in your gut. That’s the Canerian- (I feel) Aquarian (I know) connection. Aquarius is an air sign. It is the water bearer, not the water itself. It contains feeling and therefore has a hopefully healthily detached relationship to them. Personal evolution is hinged on not taking anything personally, even when affronts in life come from those closest to us. When they do, say, in childhood, we then replicate those relationships in adulthood, trying to get blood from stones.

What I love about Lucy’s quote is the focus on getting things done. It is true the only way to get things done is to love yourself, that’s kind of an unexpected practical twist. I would imagine that, though she might have loved Desi, that continuing to be in a relationship with him rang as not loving herself. But what do I know. I saw her admit to Dick Cavett and her daughter Lucie for the first time that she tried to kill herself at age sixteen by walking into traffic, because she had a lousy audition for something. To feel that hopeless so young and to be that affected by rejection and then to become the person she did which entailed enduring another twenty five years of a so-so career, one bordering on loserville at times, until she found her place in the Sun. Of course she’s a Leo, the fifth house ruling “the love you give” with the parenthetical addition of (yourself).

I was watching part one of the American Experience on PBS about Walt Disney. Never mind that they used words like extravert, exploration, experience, generosity, big-boy, paternalism and other such terms associated with the Sagittarius that he is, it really was quite inspirational interms of giving your all to get all you want which may never be enough. So we see all sides of it. He was a super heterosexual for sure; and yet there is something strangely homoerotic about being so into the care and needs of other men while treating women more like vessels or second-hand citizens. All the guys who made up the bulk of the Disney studio upper echelon seemed, in many ways, to be carbon copies of himself. They were macho. They were tall and thin and athletic. And Walt built an executive gym, with an Olympic trainer, along with VIP dining halls for this population in his employ. They had all the perks and huge salaries and the women, mostly paint and ink artists, were in lowlier digs in separate buildings and paid peanuts. There is something so gay about being so straight.

Still, on the theme, he never gave up and he certainly loved himself. So much so that he was surrounded by doppelgangers.

Typos happen—I don’t have time or an intern to edit.*
Copyright 2017 Wheel Atelier Inc. All Rights Reserved.
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Virgo 9°

I cannot tell a lie, I’m happy summer is drawing to a close. It’s nearly Labor Day and I have just nine days until the start of our festival. And then John Kelly at Oberon and then off to NYC where we will produce Stella’s Birth of the American Baroness. I’m speaking to one of our sponsors that owns a hotel in Asbury Park about possibly producing some shows there. I would actually love to go down and check out the place. As I said in a recent post I haven’t been back to that area in ages. For the first half of those ages I was rebelling against all the unhappiness associated with the place, for the second half I’ve been having some pangs which combined the feelings of wanting to make the past the past but also being curious about what’s going on down there. Still, it’s New Jersey.

There were so many regular things we did then. Someone recently told me they were born in Neptune New Jersey. I think it was my friend Will? Anyway, that area keeps coming up. We used to go to this place called Mom’s Kitchen where we knew all the waitresses who treated us like family. We at there a lot. My mother always had veal chops with vinegar peppers. I googled it and it comes up but there is a new place in its location with the same interior just new booths called Il Posto. It looks eh.

I want to move around a lot this year and yet still hit my marks. I want to be super smart about projects and not be lead down any garden paths. When it comes to the charitable work it will have to be very much easier this coming year. I should really like to realize some of my personal goals in all of this. I know I can do it if I really set my mind to it. And I have a sort of roll-out list sketched out in my imagination. It can all come together beautifully if I set my mind to it. Anyway, I might be ready to re-visit some of these old haunts. And yet I have trepidation. I’m better off sticking to a European plan me thinks, spending as much time over there as possible. I really must get to Venice this year I feel it is an absolute necessity. This will be the year of greatest hits travel wise. We won’t go anywhere new looks like.

I’m not sure how to feel about the festival this year. When I look over my list of sponsors from last year so many of them haven’t returned. By hook or by crook I will somehow make ends meet with the festival but it really has been pulling teeth I must say. I don’t know why so many people tell me it’s their favorite thing and then seem to expect it’s going to happen for them just by magic. The only magic is me. I look forward to doing a little bit more research for Boston to see if we can get that project moving as it ultimately has more potential for success.

Typos happen—I don’t have time or an intern to edit.*
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Virgo 8°

“Autumn darkness falls so soon and steals my soul” was the first line of a poem I wrote once. I don’t know the rest of the poem because it was stolen with bags full of my writing. One day, in the heat of summer, in the very early 1990s, when we lived in Hoboken, I drove to Florent and sat all day going through tons of notebooks, annotating my writing, deciding what would become what—novel, poem, comedy piece, etc—I must have been there four hours at least. Then I drove and parked the car on Mercer or Green street to meet Lynne to go see a film at the Angelika. I had put all my bags, including my favorite Millet backpack I’d bought in Grenoble, in the trunk. When we came out of the film we found the trunk had been broken into and all my bags were gone.

I don’t know if someone told us to, or if we just knew to, but we drove to the East Village where people sold stuff on the street. We didn’t see any trace of what was taken. I think about the thieves, just grabbing all the bags and running, only to find they are filled with someone’s writing which is of no value to them but of great value to only one person. I’m sure the karmic payback for that swindle was great.

The most sad loss was a green French graph paper notebook Lynne had given me when we lived in Grenoble into which she put a poem I wrote her—she rewrote it onto the first page. And then wrote: “Now write”. The poem was called Run With Me and it was a sort of invitation to her to spend the rest of her life with me. I’m most sad about that.

I think I got writing on this subject because I was trying to pinpoint the feeling I feel now. And I suppose it is just very close to that feeling I felt at the loss of my bags. But instead of bags it’s now this free floating sense of loss over what I once had, now gone, and what I never had. You can definitely feel loss for something that you never owned or experienced. Isn’t that some kind of strange twist on empathy. Being empathetic for some version of yourself you never were.

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