Taurus 10° (April 29)

I know how I can be. I am strangely linear. I want so much to do things correctly. I wonder at so blue a sky yet a mourn the white streaks from planes that could get me out of here. We are trapped all of us, sheltering in place. But this is not my place, not really. My soul lives on a different shore and it feels separated, now, from the remainder of my being. My skin still crawls and I will seek to remedy that by the outset on Friday when I can consult a professional. Meanwhile, I am trying not to exacerbate the condition. I come across a shopping list that says lamb and Badoit, ail and peas. I believe it is our first ever food shopping list to go to the market on the rue Rambuteau; I’m so homesick for Paris I could just scream. I am trying to to feel the searing pangs and yet I do. I just finished reading Circe and it’s pretty fabulous. The ending was a bit conceit-ed, nonetheless it worked for sure. I think I am really utterly letting go of some biggies that have plagued me for some time. I have sensed them rattling around my psyche, being shaken loose, but there is something about this time, in isolation, when I feel they are truly releasing. I’m looking forward to more assistance from this government, the reality of the equation. Everything is changing and we are going to let it. Eighteen months from now will have yielded another infusion such that we’d have the ability to set things right, in the ensuing six years. That would be the hope at the very least. There can be other versions of this. But we might as well shoot the moon, now, as I really don’t know what the future brings but I have never looked to it more directly and realistically. I think part of me, looking back, say, ten years, was okay with living in the moment, doing shows and otherwise being creative and focusing on more social aspects of life, while really I think I maybe have done more whisting in the graveyard during that epoch than I might have let on at the time.

In order for everything work over the next year, my projects must dovetail. The project at hand informs the product while it also draws on the private consultancy and vice versa. Everything is the one thing; and if I can steadily weed through and out (I’m thinking a couple of hours every blessed Sunday). Then by the time the next two years roll around, we will be in just the right kind of shape. I am blessed with stellar credit to boot, and who the hell knows what kind of crash we will be seeing all around us. We live in a place of second homes, in large part. And it is very possible we shall see a fire sale of sorts. Tomorrow is the last moment that I can affect some real change. I need to play managing director in the early morning, mapping it all, then I’ll take a break to speak with the psycho du jour, and then resume and make as much magic as possible. I made a delicious vegetable soup with North African spices, with a little side of thyme-onion brown rice (leftover from last night’s roast chicken and sautéed bokchoy din din); and tonight we will be having more veggie fare in the form of eggplant steaks and kale. The overall feeling around here is one of ringing out a rag. I’m ready to get great big bags and fill them with the trash of my last thirty years, mindful of what I want to take with me, as far as I can see where that is going. I have always wanted a proper library with a gleaming new piano. And a bathtub or two and a true chef’s kitchen. The rest of it can be the best it can be, but these are areas on which I won’t compromise. I wonder where the Fates will take me at this juncture. I should like to reach out to all the people I have known, to let them know of my existence, what I’ve been doing all these years, the how and the why; but I’m not so sure people really give that much of a fuck. I do believe we have created something beautiful; just like with the book projects: at this point it is in the fullest belief of the thing that the thing must be made and the knowledge of its appeal must be wrought into its very making. We have the luxury, now, of catching up to ourselves, any sense of being behind the eight ball, a specious notion, at best.

The farmer is outside talking loudly on his phone. He has been more annoying than ever lately, but I am taking it as a test (it is only a test) of my nerves, mettle and resolve in the face of the same kinds of petty challenges which would have escalated in the past. That Dead Song “I Need A Miracle” comes to mind right now, because I do need one everyday, in fact. This whole concept of being late with things is really dumb, as I said. I don’t know why I make up such things. I kind of want to shave my head. If there was a barber shop open, I would be tempted to go; but I might as well see what “Mindful May” will bring as we do some dieting (live-it-ing). I think part of me would have been right, actually, to have moved to Portland, Maine in the eighties instead of New York City, as I did. I know that sounds strange because so much of who I am was based on what my life was like there, but the fact is I believe that life brings me now to the same place I would have been brought to, anyway, at this point. We lived (still are living) through the AIDS crisis, which moulded so many of us last gaspers of the Baby Boom, the movie of the same name being pretty damned terrible, launching James Spader’s typecasted career as the baddy. To this day I have never seen Top Gun. Harry Connick Jr. wants to teach me how to play the piano, I just might let him. I just heard that some (Virgo) friends I’ve known (who’ve, in trademark fashion, disappeared)

The following blocks of texs are exceprts from my first year of  Blagues, nos. 196-200  I am reading through all my Blagues, five per day, and posting some samples here. Now, in my sixth year of writing this Blague, but the time I get to my seventh, I will have through all the daily Blagues of my first five years. If that’s confusing I apologize:

Stella and I just letting new dreams materialize in a floating fashion. And last night, especially, was spent out in the company of good friends, English folk who have lived in Paris for nigh on twenty years. And whenever we get together with them time both flies and stands still; I know we none of us ever stop talking and yet I can never quite remember specific threads of conversation. And not because we’re over serving ourselves, but there is just this other dimensional quality to our evenings together and always has been. We are like four kids in a sandbox falling into imaginary thoughts and games. It truly is magical. And this came off picking up a little present of a book of poetry that another dear young friend of ours left for us at Shakespeare and Co. bookstore on the quai; we were there to attend a party for Gentlewoman magazine; the party was actually quite lame, but it was memory bliss for Stella, especially, as the late owner George who is no longer with us invited her and her family, I believe, up to his private lair for tea one afternoon in the early 1980s. It was such a famous place and he had amazing stories about the dreamlike world of Paris in the early part of the 20th century when so many American novelist expats lived here.

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For the first time in like forever I woke up didn’t have coffee and lay down on the couch to perhaps fall back to sleep. The tall lady was like what? She was totes surprised. As I was because I usually wake and shake and start writing my blague. So here it is nearly eleven a.m. in Paris and I’m just taking a look at what the oracle is today: 

The point is that we cannot sustain constant activity, emotionally or culturall. There must be breaks. I don’t withdraw into my own sphere of selfhood enough, probably. And I have of late been burning the candle at both ends, giddy to be in the city of light and delighting my senses. Even though Paris beckons I must rest today before being absorbed into the delicious swirl. My batteries need recharging, yes, but also my imagination needs something of a reset. I have a bunch of creative projects coming up and I need to be rested to allow them to bubble up. As it is I’ve just come off producing a festival which was exhausting and I moved house which was/is always traumatizing and then we came on this big trip. Boom, boom, boom. And it’s been superfun, but super fatiguing. Both body and psyche need a time out to catch up. And to be rid of toxins i.e. certain people, places and things.

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It’s not always easy to know if you’re scaling an upward spiral or if you chasing your own tail. And in a world that is hell bent on comparisons—people have commited suicide due to feeling “less than” simply from too much Facebook surfing—we can be easily defeated by what seems to be everyone else’s success but our own OR we can be inspired by our man real and faux friends and let that move us. It’s always a choice. Personally, I like to imagine that, in my many circular paths, that I am doing the things I repeat that much better each time with a margin for a little backsliding on my otherwise upward trajectory. There should be an algorithim for that. But really, I know that the people who post selfies of themselves with C- or even A-list celebrities, or tout their many accomplishments or places of residence are no more or less happy than any of us. We have no way of judging this; our only goal is to be happy today than we were yesterday which is enough of a challenge. The only true answer is to simply love more. And especially yourselves. That is all.

To view the original Sabian Symbol themed 2015 Cosmic Blague corresponding to this day: Flashback! The degree pointof the Sabian Symbol may at times be one degree higher than the one listed here. The Blague portrays the starting degree of for this day ( 0°,  for instance), as I typically post in the morning, while the Sabian number corresponds to the end point (1°) of that same 0°-1° period. There are 360  degrees spread over 365/6 days per year—so they nearly, but not exactly, correlate.

Typos happen. I don’t have a proofreader. And I like to just write, post and go!
Copyright 2020 Wheel Atelier Inc. All Rights Reserved.
Get your HAUTE ASTROLOGY 2020 Weekly Horoscope ebooks by Starsky + Cox

Taurus 9° (April 28)

I’m fairly obsessed with the actress Elizabeth Patterson, who was Mrs. Trumbell on I Love Lucy. She was born in 1874—her father was a confederate general. She never married and lived for thirty-five years in the Roosevelt Hollywood Hotel. Or is it the Hollywood Roosevelt hotel. Little matter. I have made no secret of the fact that I could live in a hotel. Somewhere in my story telling is the day we met Hume Cronyn. I will search for it in this Blague and hopefully it will pop up. I’m not sure how much I am actually accomplishing today, yet. I might just have to read a book and do the minimum. This remains to be seen. The printer in my office doesn’t work and still it sits there. I will take it to the basement to become part of a work of art. My idea (has long been) to create a series of installations that I then video and photograph before taking them to the dump. And yet the stuff I need to do close at hand today continues to elude me. I will get to it I swear. But most likely not until after lunch. I’m already starving. The day is not the day I had designed it to be, so I am now in a process of rethinking. I have red a good deal of my book which is surely something I needed to do. I will give myself another couple of hours to enter the project and then I will work on it for just as long. I reached out to my friend Damon, who is something of a sorcerer, for some direction on deepening my personal process in all of this. He spoke of lucid dreaming and of pendulums. I recounted my experience in these areas. I am still fighting this unseen enemy, rooting it out wherever it attacks. I am experimenting with oils of my own divining. I know my destiny lies in the direction of herbs. I am experimenting with oils which I hope will affect some change. We shall see. The best thing I can do for myself today is to back off and live to fight another day. We have decided to make the coming month Mindful May, which should help put a different spin on yet another thirty plus days in isolation.

Whatever this thing is it isn’t getting better. And it’s not like I can just pop into a practitioner’s office. So either it heals, pretty darn quick, or else I’m going to have to brave some kind of situation one wants to avoid during an epidemic. I have the most ironic condition on the planet. Anyway, I didn’t get my whole mojo going, and I am concerned with all this isolation and the silence growing louder in my mind. Which is why I’ve decided to take control and make this work somehow. There is no reason to feel in the least panicky, although it is funny how isolation can make one feel, ironically, claustrophic. The naivete of Christmas past, the ridiculous sadness of a burst dream woven by the dead who bore me. Pose must be poetic. I love the feel of such things, language carefully but simply draped like the dress of a goddess. Elegance falling to gravity. As a myth head, I enjoy seeing all my favorite characters come to life. In forty-five minutes my writer’s block is scheduled to officially end. And it way do so at the blackboard. I must sneak in. Think how good it will feel. And so you might say I am already there. So much headway is always being made. I want to love each and every one of you. I want to write my show and make my music. We will do a Christmas show this year and maybe we can perform virtually, if not in person. I wouldn’t doubt it. There is time, too, for all peace-giving miscellany. I’m glad we didn’t put everything into an event business. I’ve always sought to contextualize, just as I urge forward with new creation. I feel that the breadth of my experience(s) will some day amount to something big. It’s all about that timeline.

 So let’s see. The morning was fairly Zen and I read a bit, cleaned and prepped the kitchen. I will do more of this in the next two hours. The fact is I’ve gotten myself into a pickle and it’s silly. I have to have a complete seminar with myself tomorrow. Weird that one can’t pop out for a stroll or libation—I got so happily used to that, along with having no excuse not to go to yoga, since it was right around the corner. I was going every day, and was actually on day twenty-four of thirty-day challenge. I must send a photo to Lauten. We are building our fortune and dynasty, still, at a point where many of our contemporaries might have already rung some major bells; that said, we were among the first folks I know to buy a house, and live, by the beach, doing so at the age of thirty-five, which is pretty damned good; and truth be told we’ve never had to live in a city again; choosing instead to city shop, as we have done year on year, trying on L.A. and the high desert, and Boston; and Paris and London, with European side-trips, since leaving New York (which also makes this list, still) full-stop in the mid aughts. I really am so very much driven to distraction. It is sort of my beat. I am going to make this work. So one will wake up tomorrow and immediately go upstairs and start writing out the answers to the set of questions I will create to make the project move along, now at a clip.

The following blocks of texs are exceprts from my first year of  Blagues, nos. 191-195  I am reading through all my Blagues, five per day, and posting some samples here. Now, in my sixth year of writing this Blague, but the time I get to my seventh, I will have through all the daily Blagues of my first five years. If that’s confusing I apologize:

I have had moments in creation where I have felt that direct connection to the Muses and have had it last for months or even a year or so on end. Recipe for madness as well as strokes of genius. And maybe the reason I haven’t created any, say, solo performance work to speak of as of yet, or written any full songs for that matter (i have reams of half-written ditties) is because I haven’t creatively visualized and fully conceived—gotta love that word in this context—that which I want to express. Now, Virgo is the Virgin after all i.e. she is designed to conceive. The sign rules digestion as well as gestation. So maybe I need to get into emotionally-intelligently hatching an idea from visualization to execution. Sounds so simple. Yeah right. Again, I’m more a flash of ideas and then a jumping into the deep end of creativity without quite knowing how to swim sort of creative, opening channels to inspiration; I suppose I’ve always considered ultimate conception of creative vision to be a bit, well, too thought-out. Then again, maybe that’s why I don’t have a very large body of work. Food for thought. Must have been a Virgo who invented that phrase.

To view the original Sabian Symbol themed 2015 Cosmic Blague corresponding to this day: Flashback! The degree pointof the Sabian Symbol may at times be one degree higher than the one listed here. The Blague portrays the starting degree of for this day ( 0°,  for instance), as I typically post in the morning, while the Sabian number corresponds to the end point (1°) of that same 0°-1° period. There are 360  degrees spread over 365/6 days per year—so they nearly, but not exactly, correlate.

Typos happen. I don’t have a proofreader. And I like to just write, post and go!
Copyright 2020 Wheel Atelier Inc. All Rights Reserved.
Get your HAUTE ASTROLOGY 2020 Weekly Horoscope ebooks by Starsky + Cox

Taurus 8° (April 27)

Last night ended on a sour note and I fell asleep ridiculously early only to awake before eleven at night and stay up for hours after, watching MTV style historical dramas on NetFlix. Nothing I can really recommend, nor do I want to embarrass myself by sharing the program I binged on. Suffice to say I found out it was originally a CW show. Little by little I will claw my way back to the surface. Today I am awash in random thoughts and I want to record them all so that’s what today’s Blague will be about: The fact that I’d like to take all our astrology books and decide which ones we might be able to publish, given the fact that the copyrights are so old, or how I would like to offer them for sale on our website, store. And how we need to make the website more engaging and intereactive. And how it is we still need a Wikipedia page based on all that has been written about us. And to include on that page the thing about Eleanor Catton. And how we’ve been in Time magazine; and how we perform a live act; and how we have been recurring guests on talk shows like Chelsea. And how we have a jewelry collection. And how all these things do matter some. I still need to write to Kip and may comment on the fact that he looks great in a dress. People with the initials J.D. are typically assholes. The podcast is going to be the main event of the coming year. I am currently so itchy I could scream. Tomorrow I will wake and go directly to work and I will work a total of ten hours. I will do the same on Wednesday and that will be me finished with the product. On waking Thursday I will send all I have to client and I will do my yoga and then use the weekend to get the house ready for Spring. Hopefully by then the Farmer will feel like putting in the window. I will entertain the notion of moving forward on the festival work but I cannot guarantee it. Surely we will have to play the entire thing by ear. The whole world is going to change and there will be a major fire sale. We are in touch with the TV folks and the publishers both. I only have a couple of paragraphs to write and then I shall be done. We need to sit down and go overo our budgets for the past several months.

Going over budgets never fails to cause some kind of argument, never over spending, but over the fact that the figures I have never match the figures S. has. It is something of a comedy routine; at least we try to keep it that way. It is especially aggravating for her for some reason. I never really care that much I just am a stickler for logic and it begins and ends there for me. And so we are sitting here while S. goes back over and over to figure out the discrepancy du jour. It is never that big a deal; it is just that it never matches, no matter how meticulous theprocess might be. Tomorrow I will get up and go directly to the writing project that awaits. The first thing I will do is talk myself through the landscape of it and I will likely make that the meat and bones of this Blague for the next couple of days. Also, too, if I have vivid dreams I’ll include them. I am once again keeping a notebook handy, bedside. I don’t know if I might want to have one more junky night of food before we settle into a steady diet of vegetables for the coming weeks. Sill to have pizza again but I could do it. Otherwise, we could make a risotto or some such. It none of it matters. I have to get my brain back on my work. And what I mean by work is my writing daily which is very important if I am going to hit my marks on the book writing front. I intend to do just that. I know I have the facility. If my Blague has taught me anything it is that. I have had coffee in the afternoon, which is probably why I now want wine. Up and down, up and down.

Big surprise: I went for a drive to get a bottle of Chinon. To be fair, we decided not to make a Kale Caesar, but to have a sort of pasta, which was really some kind of ancient grain shaped into fusilli. Still, I made a putanesca sauce and we had wine with it and then watched some bad TV and read and went to sleep only we didn’t read I just said that to make myself sound less sad and floppy. The only news I barely get is when I take my drives ten minutes this way or that—S. will not listen or watch any TV news and I can’t really blame her. I want to learn to speak Gaelic. I wish I knew where I came from (I will never unless I hire that guy who does the TV show); but boy oh boy do I wish I could have some sense of inherited self. I can’t stand even the last remnant of Italian relatives as they always metaphorically poke me or somehow twist the knife when they beam in, much in the way friendships I’ve allowed have done. I am always chasing a feeling this much we know. I see myself forever in Paris of course; for now that will mean six months out of a year. And the other six months I should like to spend in Maine, somewhere, maybe Bath or Harpswell. There needn’t be a reason to go as far north as Castine, although we know it is beautiful there and surely worth the journey. In any case I want to get a beautiful new car and a beautiful old one. I think the honky tonk world of Provincetown has become a thing of the past for me now. I need more genuine an experience and I made my historical mark on the town and can now let go lightly. Tomorrow is another day and it shall be characterized by a certain maturity in creativity. I can bring it all home, honing the writing, on Wednesday. And then it will be finished and I will feel accomplished and lifted. Cardinal air is to be like the winds, always a metaphor for certain change. John Dee had his own symbol if you can believe it. I should like Starsky + Cox to have theirs. I have yet to delve into the more esoteric aspects of being, but that will be the beauty of future directions. I need to be old. LLB was right about that.

The following blocks of texs are exceprts from my first year of  Blagues, nos. 186-190  I am reading through all my Blagues, five per day, and posting some samples here. Now, in my sixth year of writing this Blague, but the time I get to my seventh, I will have through all the daily Blagues of my first five years. If that’s confusing I apologize:

I have had moments in creation where I have felt that direct connection to the Muses and have had it last for months or even a year or so on end. Recipe for madness as well as strokes of genius. And maybe the reason I haven’t created any, say, solo performance work to speak of as of yet, or written any full songs for that matter (i have reams of half-written ditties) is because I haven’t creatively visualized and fully conceived—gotta love that word in this context—that which I want to express. Now, Virgo is the Virgin after all i.e. she is designed to conceive. The sign rules digestion as well as gestation. So maybe I need to get into emotionally-intelligently hatching an idea from visualization to execution. Sounds so simple. Yeah right. Again, I’m more a flash of ideas and then a jumping into the deep end of creativity without quite knowing how to swim sort of creative, opening channels to inspiration; I suppose I’ve always considered ultimate conception of creative vision to be a bit, well, too thought-out. Then again, maybe that’s why I don’t have a very large body of work. Food for thought. Must have been a Virgo who invented that phrase.

To view the original Sabian Symbol themed 2015 Cosmic Blague corresponding to this day: Flashback! The degree pointof the Sabian Symbol may at times be one degree higher than the one listed here. The Blague portrays the starting degree of for this day ( 0°,  for instance), as I typically post in the morning, while the Sabian number corresponds to the end point (1°) of that same 0°-1° period. There are 360  degrees spread over 365/6 days per year—so they nearly, but not exactly, correlate.

Typos happen. I don’t have a proofreader. And I like to just write, post and go!
Copyright 2020 Wheel Atelier Inc. All Rights Reserved.
Get your HAUTE ASTROLOGY 2020 Weekly Horoscope ebooks by Starsky + Cox

Taurus 7° (April 26)

Was up in the night itching like crazy. Watched whatever historical Renaissance episodic I could find and tried to sleep through them in turn, viewing three in their entirety. I think back to my sophomore year of college. Little did I know then that that would be my last year of solo life, and I was but nineteen. For all the infinite positivity surrounding being in a couple, at the age I am now, there is a certain sadness surrounding not being solo more than two years in one’s young life. I went to the Esplanade with some lesbian whose name I can’t remember. But she was fierce and tough but super glam. I will at some point recall her name, I don’t think it is lost forever. It isn’t Yvonne but it might as well have been. I think she was trying to get me to identify as gay. Anyway I just remember one day lying in the sun, and one evening spent at her house in Brookline, in the summer of 1983, when I went to 1270 for the first time, on mushrooms, having just walked on a ledge of a brownstone (at a frat party on Marlborough Street?) where I could have so easily fallen to my death. This makes me sound so weird and crazy which I wasn’t not.  Getting drunk on beer in the afternoon. I must wake tomorrow feeling very clever indeed. I was thinking about all the random things today as I continue to battle my uninvited guests. Guests I now feel I know a bit better and will will away. That was not a typo.

I am half remembering a dream. I was in the West Village and perhaps felt that I belonged there. I have the ability to move to any remote New England town, now, and set myself up with a life. I think Castine might end up being the answer. We can probably fly a little plane up there. Anyway it is the dream. Or one of them. There are many more. All I have to do for the next ninety minutes is right, calmly. I can always make an excuse tomorrow, but I determined not to. If I give myself two full days to write compelling copy there should be no reason why I would be thwarted. That is still the plan. I am mainly alone today as S. is in her office doing a surplus of workshops. We will have that chowder for lunch and I am going to make lovely little burgers for lunch. Kim Jung Un is nowhere to be found. Carl Jung is a biography that I have been in the middle of for some time. I did manage to read a bit of a novel this morning which was very nice. I am going to let myself get a little lost and then as the week begins I will once again find my footing. I’ve said it before but this isolation mainly hits home the fact that I don’t have very many friends at the ready. I can’t think of a single person who has beamed in to check on me. I will let that go and continue to reach out and touch others. One at a time. Every day. I came across a clip of us doing a reading at 411 Gallery and so I searched for some kind of script for the presentation and couldn’t find one. So I will create a file of this, which I found in an old Blague. It was a Valentine’s thing

Aries, You are the Warrior of Love
Objectifying with Life-giving Lust Jabbing Us with Burning Spear or Cooly Pitting Us in Battle Over Rich Delta—Ever Leading the Charge, You Are most Enviable, Primal Self Love

Taurus, You are the Guardian of Love
Drawing Us To Your Green Garden of Delight To Sniff and Pluck—You Will be Appreciated and Cultivated; Belong and be Worshipped as We All Should The Flower God’s Green Earth

Gemini, You’re the Booker of Love, Buzzing with Sweet Provocation and Confusion—or what Confucious said? You’re the Apple tossed, the question mark—the Divining Mind of Duality The Love of Community all Cunning

Cancer, You are the Mystic of Love Waxing and Waning Pure Intuition Your Prince or Princess Will Come As You Prepare The Way to Recover What Is Lost and Let What Should Be Yours a Love Raining on You and Me

Leo, You are the Magesty of Love Building Castles and Moats to Passion Locking Heaviest Doors of Loyalty Creating Children, Real and Brain You Endure Eternal Ecstacy and Pain
Endowed with Loving good Authority

Virgo, You’re the Conscience of Love Healing Humbly, Critiquing Sharply Oft Deffering, Demurring, Digesting You, the Catalyst of Loving Change, Make Lemons out of Lemonade, the Love in Service to those Most in Need

Libra, You are the Equalizer of LoveSpreading Yourself Thick and Even
An abstract Artist of Aesthetic Beauty You Seek Harmony in Composition Blending Voices So We’re All Heard
Figuratively speaking: Fairest of them

Scorpio, You are the Miner for Love
The Buried Treasure of Deep Desire
Stinging Us with our Own Truth and, Meaning Not That Much Harm, You Unearth, Excavate, Out Damn Spots! Cleanse as you Slither into our Hearts.

Sagittarius, You are the Joker of Love Jovial Wild Card, We Risk On You Striking Anywhere, Rarely Twice You Ignite Multiple Fires of Love and Understanding. What’s So Funny? Oh, How You Burn and Blind Third Eyes!

Capricorn, You’re Container of Love. A mountain of Faith, all limit to Fear.
Bathing our brow from placid resevoir You lay down strict Laws of Devotion Using All in Your Power to Love; and Urging Us To the Highest Peaks of It

Aquarius, you are the Beacon of Love Iluminating its renewable resource, all diversely, indiscriminately dispensing Plenty to go round. A trip to bountiful Tie-dyed, rainbow suspender Unicorn Love Universal, dirty stars atwinkling
Pisces, you are the Essence of Love

Dissolved in fog, foaming longing. Behind veiled curtain you call, Siren Breaking us on tender infinite shore, Home to total Love, spirit awash in unerring nutritive detritus of dreams

The following blocks of texs are exceprts from my first year of  Blagues, nos. 181-185  I am reading through all my Blagues, five per day, and posting some samples here. Now, in my sixth year of writing this Blague, but the time I get to my seventh, I will have through all the daily Blagues of my first five years. If that’s confusing I apologize:

A year ago I was rather reeling from some blows to my own wee me-go; now, a year on, I feel very happy to have been purified in the fire of my own being. You see, I had these friends (so-called) one of whom I could only really take in small doses—we’d been friends since the mid eighties—and from whom I tried to remain lovingly detached. This fellow always had to be center of attention and grandstand, flaunting his material wealth, and never entering into anyone elses world. He had to play host, never guest. He was a control freak and everything always had to be the exact same in terms of an evening spent with friends. Cooking together and playing some kind of board games. Bored. Games. So I was going for small doses but he would retaliate with some psychic Scorpion sting if we politely declined every other invitation. I was labelled “erratic” by this individual because I didn’t consistently comply and conform to his sinister need to be the host with the most. And he started to create a subtext and spread rumors based on his own opinions which he experienced as facts. And he convinced a bunch of mutual friends that I was acting loony. Seriously. You can’t make this shite up.

So, although I did ultimately give him a snootful piece of my mind on the subject, I basically just let it happen. I figured if people were followers enough (this individual had accolytes, to whom he played a maniacal guru role—see, I am still on theme here—a bevy of sycophants, not really friends, who thought they would benefit by way of his association) to buy into this character assasination, then so be it. It is against my personal religion to resist such large tidal shifts in human relationships. If I were to “lose” this entire circle of so-calleds then perhaps it truly was meant to be. Well, it truly was meant to be. Because a) it made me stronger via the working through of the ego pain of being effectively dumped when I was kindly trying to, as I say, small-dose things as a means of keeping some kind of relationship with this chap; and b) stepping out from the shadow of others’ perspective and assigned role freed me to be that much more fiercely individual this past year; and, others’ opinions be damned, I feel for the first time in my life that I really didn’t give a crap about what others thought of me. And so I made some great strides creatively this year but also in terms of personal development and growth and discpline, including the initation of this blague which is the blogging equivalent of dancing while nobody’s looking; and c) for the first time ever I feel unanchored enough to actually attract slash stumble upon slash welcome a masterful presence into my life.

To view the original Sabian Symbol themed 2015 Cosmic Blague corresponding to this day: Flashback! The degree pointof the Sabian Symbol may at times be one degree higher than the one listed here. The Blague portrays the starting degree of for this day ( 0°,  for instance), as I typically post in the morning, while the Sabian number corresponds to the end point (1°) of that same 0°-1° period. There are 360  degrees spread over 365/6 days per year—so they nearly, but not exactly, correlate.

Typos happen. I don’t have a proofreader. And I like to just write, post and go!
Copyright 2020 Wheel Atelier Inc. All Rights Reserved.
Get your HAUTE ASTROLOGY 2020 Weekly Horoscope ebooks by Starsky + Cox

Taurus 6° (April 25)

Got up chugged a coffee and headed, masked and hopefully not dangerous, to Orleans to food shop. It was relatively empty and people were respectful of personal space except for this one douchebag. We hand wended our way to the last, predominantly dairy, aisle, when this thumbish asshole reached into the inches I was inhabiting, not wearing a mask, but holding some kinda cloth over his mouth, what? He grabbed eggs and promptly headed to check out where he was barefaced and ungloved. The checkout workers said nothing. I was offering my opinion to a general audience pretty audibly. One of the managers gave him the hairy eyeball and then turned to me to say these motherfuckers. He didn’t use that word but close. We then hit the health-food store and the fish monger and headed home, unpacked, and doubled back to the wine shop for some Chinon. I did a quick turnaround at the dump and came back just as the sibs-in-law pulled up. We weren’t terribly strict in the distancing department but nobody hugged. Genevieve scooped up a chick on the property, black in color. S. came to find me while I was working upstairs. I called the farmer and sure enough he has chicks. But he was like “I don’t know how that happened;” never thanked us for finding the little bugger. I really am over people with terrible manners. It truly is not good enough. There is a lot to do and see in Maine and so much fun to explore. It truly is like its own country and I’m not sure we need to too far afield to find something fabulous. I think Bath is becoming quite the little city and could offer us a lot of good.

Anyway I made a chowder for tomorrow and tonight we will have salmon with potatoes and tomatoes. I feel like maybe I already said that. It doesn’t much matter. I am doing the best I can in these itchiest of circumstances. My cursor just froze, reminder to keep saving. Phew. The devil is in the purse. The point is that I have this three paragraph rule, as a rule, writing this. And some days I just have to go for volume. I’m sort of disappointed that there isn’t much in the way of content from my reading through five Blagues a day dating back over five years ago of writing this daily, but I am still getting a good idea of what is in store. S. will speak with Jill and Aine and Jo on Zoom today while I cook. I am asked to make an appearance and look like crap. Sort of unfair as everyone else gets a chance to prepare their appearance. I have a feeling there will be no sailing this summer after all. Neil is just about to return to work in a medical post. This does worry me I must say. I just want everyone to be safe and well. I have the most ironic of afflictions given the fact I have been in insolation. I think it might well have grown out of the experience here, in this house. But I will never know it. I am grateful to be finished with certain bad habits that mightn’t have been serving me. I will work two eight hour days and make magic people.

Fell asleep watching horrible latest and last Will and Grace, which does, nonetheless have funny lines and its familiarity is unmatched and so appreciated. Only to wake up again around one and have to entertain myself once again. This will be the last of this sort of thing. There is enough on my plate and in my imagination to keep me going. I will forge ahead as best I can and try to make some sense out of this. If I am not feeling cured of what ails me by Thursday then I will hop in the car and take one more crack at a cure. On Monday I will have to go get the mail that awaits me. At least this way I can put some cash in the bank and keep things moving in terms of putting finances together and to bed for the time being. I should feel good about all the progress I am making despite the fact the world has gone completely crazy. Dinner was delicious, I made a shallot, tarragon and chive butter to spread onto the salmon, I sautéed the tomatoes with thyme; and in the chowder I put turkey bacon, onion, celery, thyme and leeks, primarily, with the clams and clam juice as well as a little chicken broth. The BIL is so selfish and self-serving and I got the sense that this visit was all about him in the end. Will be fun to have a little shop in Maine, maybe, sometime, as a retirement plan. I reach out and talk to folks and sometimes I am fortunate to hear back. Sometimes they just ignore me which is disturbing but I suppose I’m used to it. Thursday will begin my yoga. Tuesday I will get in some teeth whitening. I don’t know if people are stretched to their limits; I do know that having brick and mortar isn’t easy for most people. I hope these corrections do have an impact on the glut and the glutonous.

The following blocks of texs are exceprts from my first year of  Blagues, nos. 176-180  I am reading through all my Blagues, five per day, and posting some samples here. Now, in my sixth year of writing this Blague, but the time I get to my seventh, I will have through all the daily Blagues of my first five years. If that’s confusing I apologize:

There was nothing to include for this past span of five days!

To view the original Sabian Symbol themed 2015 Cosmic Blague corresponding to this day: Flashback! The degree pointof the Sabian Symbol may at times be one degree higher than the one listed here. The Blague portrays the starting degree of for this day ( 0°,  for instance), as I typically post in the morning, while the Sabian number corresponds to the end point (1°) of that same 0°-1° period. There are 360  degrees spread over 365/6 days per year—so they nearly, but not exactly, correlate.

Typos happen. I don’t have a proofreader. And I like to just write, post and go!
Copyright 2020 Wheel Atelier Inc. All Rights Reserved.
Get your HAUTE ASTROLOGY 2020 Weekly Horoscope ebooks by Starsky + Cox

Taurus 5° (April 24)

I will spend the whole of this day on laundry and watching the “Explained” series on Netflix. This is something I must do. I will learn that Nançoise and brood will descend tomorrow, which is fine. Do we end up jonesing on RuPaul, I think we do, only to discover, we are up-to-date. This is part of what I want to put down: I want to be perfectly frank about certain things. Certain past things that elude me. It isn’t okay to feel behind any kind of eight ball. I would say to the guy who actually does eight balls (or pretends to): it does not make you interesting. You are either an addict and will succumb at some point, or you are using this as some kind of mystique Forgive me but I don’t forgive you I would say to this character that I see right through you. You have managed to fool a great many people over the years, many to whom I introduced you; but some of your so-called best friends have died and you scarcely knew them. I always wondered, in regard to the time you posted on social media, your lament, about Wiley (your best friend) passing away which you coupled with that for Walter whom you could have scarcely known, if you were some how contextualizing? I can’t even put my question that well into words. I remember now, en route back from Belize I think it was, that we stayed for a spell in Miami Beach, which was like being in a glitzy (ridiculous) beach town like Belmar where I grew up summers. People seem to know more than we know. Like we are not going to open up, again, for business. It was decided we would eat pizza with an arugla salad tonight, which is super by me.

It feels like Friday and I will take a little drive to get a couple boticellis. The air is thick with fear and sadness and boredom. I am still dealing with my own little personal plague. I will be finished with the branding project by Wednesday at the very latest. I have reworked my schedule to accommodate a pretty accelerated book-writing process. I will have to be rather efficient. I am also aiming at accelerating the loss of a stone by June 1. I will be taking my daily beach walks. I will see if the garage is still doing inspections. It will make more sense to have those done in June in any case. I need my little vehicle to pass inspection. I think water is coming in due to the hood being open. You see I have this ongoing problem with my hood ever since I drove the car and the hood flew up and crashed my window and broke my hinges. I will get in touch with those chaps in the coming weeks. Meanwhile I will need to find a clever way to rid myself of bottles and the like. Some large green/black garbage bags should do the trick. On Thursday of next week I will draft my letter. It will be near impossible to get people to donate to my cause this year and I might have to simply take a back seat and try to build for next year instead. I will devise some kind of (hopefully convincing) note. Mental health is at the forefront more than ever right now with this current weirdness looming. You know I keep getting these passing thoughts, areas I could be writing about, but then they disappear just as quickly as they arrived. I’m hoping some clarity will come in the next several days. Lords know I need some. Otherwise I might just sit and read my book. I will probably do that anyway, as I’m finally into Circe, which Griet gave me years ago, knowing it would be right up my alley. I have a feeling the author might have read Sextrology because in our book we isolate Libra woman archetype as the sorceress-goddess of sorts and speak of miasma and these words are baked into the characterization in Madeline Miller’s book. 

Sometimes I just want to find a tiny house with a lot of land and grow herbs and make essential oils and continue to publish book after book after book. There are plenty of illustrators; I just can’t believe that it is up to the author to pay one—we will cross that bridge when we come to it. Anyway, I have to push through and make hay and all the other clichés that are out there. I write a sentence and immediately my mind moves onto something else. That won’t be a problem in the coming days. I can feel “myself returning.” I’ve done things one way and now I am ready to do them another. I just want to knock off as early as possible and get cozy in this freezing so-called Spring. It was sunny one day this week and now we are back to the gloom. Soon the beach, everyday, for a walk.

The following blocks of texs are exceprts from my first year of  Blagues, nos. 171-75  I am reading through all my Blagues, five per day, and posting some samples here. Now, in my sixth year of writing this Blague, but the time I get to my seventh, I will have through all the daily Blagues of my first five years. If that’s confusing I apologize:

There was nothing to include for this past span of five days!

To view the original Sabian Symbol themed 2015 Cosmic Blague corresponding to this day: Flashback! The degree pointof the Sabian Symbol may at times be one degree higher than the one listed here. The Blague portrays the starting degree of for this day ( 0°,  for instance), as I typically post in the morning, while the Sabian number corresponds to the end point (1°) of that same 0°-1° period. There are 360  degrees spread over 365/6 days per year—so they nearly, but not exactly, correlate.

Typos happen. I don’t have a proofreader. And I like to just write, post and go!
Copyright 2020 Wheel Atelier Inc. All Rights Reserved.
Get your HAUTE ASTROLOGY 2020 Weekly Horoscope ebooks by Starsky + Cox

Taurus 4° (April 23)

I was planning on it but it didn’t happen. I don’t know where I am anymore, in the process or in my devolution. I am terribly saddened by all entropy. I want to play in the sun once again. I have made things more difficult than they need be, I fear. I feel like I can reach out and touch some reality just beyond my grasp. I have an odd spasming in my neck, on the left, it’s likely nothing. It is two days from now and I got behind by indulging in my misery as a result of this itchy situation, plus the keeping caught up, during a pandemic, with the food shopping and preparing, cleaning and general survival. I reworked my schedule but I think I’m going to rework it once again, at least. What I am over doing is lamenting, damned sure. I am making a Cacio e Pepe risotto, once again, based on the popularity of the last one. It will taste perhaps a bit too sourish. The fun and games portion of the spring program is happily coming to an end. I will just keep pushing through as there is no other choice. I should like to listen to the voices in my psyche. I should like to wax poetic. I wonder if Stella saw all of the Sam Cooke documentary which I really liked. I do write to Jackie back and forth, but all is as disjointed as this Blague at present. My psychic ability seems to be at something of a standstill. I’m going to have to go through a difficult time in the next couple of days, and I will need, especially, to monitor the nearly micorscopic world. There will be more shuttles of laundry and boredom and suprises. It will be what it will be, in other words. I will watch The Women on purpose twice and Stage Door accidentally, half of once.

What is on my mind? Making a shift, I would say. There will be something literally necessitating it. There will be accident. But mainly it’s going to come down to me. I thought today about combatting this compounding feeling of weird, bad relationships. And then I thought, well, if my side of the street were as clean as I think than I would have no problem swatting down any kind of shade coming from any one of the frenemies. For instance, should the Drake pass me on the street and say something like I don’t what anything to do with you. My response would be well you’ve made that abundantly clear despite my every attempt at communication and the finding of common ground, not to mention my continual forgiveness, none of which seem to move you toward treating me with even the most minute modicum of respect. Oh, wow that’s a good one. Hmm, I might be onto something here. Let me ask another one, this time of the Arian-from. Hi I really can’t. Well you have made that suddenly and sweepingly obvious in such a way as to suggest that you are both delusional and a hypocrite. But here I would take some fault and might express it thus: I take responsibility for the fact that I (wrongly) assumed you were capable of true friendship and loyalty, while you never were. I really should have known that, because I had seen it dating back to our earliest twenties, but I failed to let myself believe it, even as I was being warned, time and again, of the fact. I’m finding this rather exhilarating. But I don’t have much time left.

I have to write so much in the space of so little now. In real time I have set a metaphorical timer for fifteen minutes. I will also be needing to do chores as I create this—can we call it creation?—I am still so appalled that someone like Anna has never so much as written to offer thanks or to in any way respond to my correspondence, the sharing of some kind of spond etymology not withstanding. We will get our house in Maine and we will have much better times than can any longer be had in so tacky and commercial (on one hand) a place as this one is becoming and as lazy and limited (on the other) as it has always been. There is no artisan lifestyle here such as we crave. People do try but fail as easily. I would look forward to some place off Pine Point in Wellfleet. The girls are being sent their presents which leads me to believe there will be no trip this year which is a downright shame. I’m longing to be together with true friends again. We can’t remain apart forever. But I suppose if places aren’t supporting the likes of boats traveling here and there than it would follow this isn’t the perfect time to set sail. We will do our best. I will make sure to reach out and offer locals there chance to perform the festival. The show must go on, at least I think it shall.

The following blocks of texs are exceprts from my first year of  Blagues, nos. 166-170  I am reading through all my Blagues, five per day, and posting some samples here. Now, in my sixth year of writing this Blague, but the time I get to my seventh, I will have through all the daily Blagues of my first five years. If that’s confusing I apologize:

There was nothing to include for this past span of five days!

To view the original Sabian Symbol themed 2015 Cosmic Blague corresponding to this day: Flashback! The degree pointof the Sabian Symbol may at times be one degree higher than the one listed here. The Blague portrays the starting degree of for this day ( 0°,  for instance), as I typically post in the morning, while the Sabian number corresponds to the end point (1°) of that same 0°-1° period. There are 360  degrees spread over 365/6 days per year—so they nearly, but not exactly, correlate.

Typos happen. I don’t have a proofreader. And I like to just write, post and go!
Copyright 2020 Wheel Atelier Inc. All Rights Reserved.
Get your HAUTE ASTROLOGY 2020 Weekly Horoscope ebooks by Starsky + Cox

Taurus 3° (April 22)

So in the movie Jaws, Lee Pierro played Mrs. Kintner, the mother of the second victim of the shark (the little boy on a raft) who, in her funeral attire, confronts Chief Brody slapping him across the face and berating him for not protecting her son when he knew there was danger in reopening too soon. Lee Pierro died of Covid-19 at the age of 91, earlier this month, on Martha’s Vineyard where the movie was filmed….I am well and truly stumped by my own inability today. I do not know what is the matter with me. I’m feeling just completely useless on the project front, like I cannot get my brain to work. I think what I’m going to do is make some food and have some lunch, read my book and take a nap and get set up for tomorrow. I want this to work but I know, with a client today that I might not be able to make it happen. I know I can read what needs to be read but that’s as far as the project will go. I probably should have tried harder and sooner to get these moving. I guess I have to admit I’m a little freaked out now by this situation which doesn’t seem to be getting that much better. I have squandered this morning. It is what I have done. Oh well, one cannot force the creative process. And I am still jumping out of my skin, so I can’t imagine what might be expected of me. Look, I’m going to give myself another ten minutes to try and articulate what it is that this is meant to be. I want to express some intimacy with all of this. I want it to tell a story and I want it to be something of a tribute as well. This has been a pretty trying time and I need to make a soft landing and wake tomorrow to a day of success. I have been something of a domestic goddess which is hard enough work in its own right.

Now onto the positive thoughts that can drive me forward. I want this to speak to S.T., she is the person whom I am pitching in all this, let us say. We want this business to work and it cannot work if it is being done parttime. It must be a fulltime endeavor and Stove cannot be part of it. Funny about A. because I haven’t really been of the mind to entertain her doings. I reall y need to make some kind of leap forward in all of this and earn my keep in a sense. I think because I didn’t get the full amount I wanted it all feels rather silly. But the point is it needn’t it needs to be perfectly fleshed out and rather perfect on that score. As it is I am feeling myself slip behind and nobody wants that. There are no past posts to put in here today. I feel the need for a full body overhaul. I want to get down to the real nitty gritty. It can and will happen. I will get up and try and again tomorrow. I can only keep trying. I truly want to be able to pull off this season’s festival. I just won’t be able to spend as much time and or energy on it as I have in the past. People need to cooperate far better than they have in the past. I am failing miserably today on all fronts. What is wrong with me? Am I a victim of all of this?

The following blocks of texs are exceprts from my first year of  Blagues, nos. 161-165 I am reading through all my Blagues, five per day, and posting some samples here. Now, in my sixth year of writing this Blague, but the time I get to my seventh, I will have through all the daily Blagues of my first five years. If that’s confusing I apologize:

I remmeber my first acting class. There was a German girl who performed a great “object exercise” resulting in kudos from our teacher and sangfroid from most of the students. But I found it inspiring. It just made succeeding, acing the exercise, seem all the more possible, and I went home that week and prepared and prepared and next week I was the student to beat. Only I wasn’t. I was the student to emulate. That’s the difference. The race isn’t for the individual to win. The race is to stimulate all the participants to do their level best. It may be a jungle out there at times but it need never be a rat race. It’s so important to remember that in the two dimensional world of social media seemingly designed to make you feel “less than” just the way the overly competitive people of the world will do. It’s a sickness and those who fall prey to it aren’t happy. Because they are so intent on winning and worship that they cut themselves off from the stimulation and emulation that the thrill of the race is meant to impart. Poor suckers. Without really knowing that this was my criteria for elimination, it has been on this basis that I have removed certain individuals from my life. I find people who compete cheat. Those of us who enjoy being in the game all together, regardless of who wins, understands that we all win.

The important thing is to be in the swim. And it’s important to remember that water symbolizes both emotion and a certain spirituality, the former being the gateway to the later. As swimmers we effectively exist in another element, another realm, with its own rules, freedoms and limitations. Water is Source; so the symbolism of swimming signals a return to It. Just like those littlest swimmers racing toward that egg, on the spiritual level, we do not swim (seek) the source alone. And back being forward, alpha-omega style, we will all evolve along such mutations as originally surface in one individual. Evolution is rebirth, in a sense, such that each mutation, each generation, is one step closer to It. To seek to win, like those poor suckers whom we are ironically leaving in the dust, is to spiritually fail. At the ego level, there is no such thing as healthy competition. What is more unspiritual than keeping up with the Jones, let alone those Kardashians. These are not races that we or they can win. Neither can the Trump-ed up character. But if we let-go-my-ego (sorry these puns keep slipping out, spontaneously) and feel the inspiration and emulation coming from our fellow seekers, we are not just individual winners, together we are winged Victory herself.

To view the original Sabian Symbol themed 2015 Cosmic Blague corresponding to this day: Flashback! The degree pointof the Sabian Symbol may at times be one degree higher than the one listed here. The Blague portrays the starting degree of for this day ( 0°,  for instance), as I typically post in the morning, while the Sabian number corresponds to the end point (1°) of that same 0°-1° period. There are 360  degrees spread over 365/6 days per year—so they nearly, but not exactly, correlate.

Typos happen. I don’t have a proofreader. And I like to just write, post and go!
Copyright 2020 Wheel Atelier Inc. All Rights Reserved.
Get your HAUTE ASTROLOGY 2020 Weekly Horoscope ebooks by Starsky + Cox

Taurus 2° (April 21)

Wrote to John and Bridget as today is their birthday. I did a bit of cleaning, just the minimum, and I got caught up on my writing. I have a bit of a break from the kitchen as S. is making Caesar Salad for lunch and all I’ll do is rinse of romaine. I was thinking about working a bit of magic under the simple guise of just saying it can even make it happen. My goal is to get to a very simple place and just remain there. I mean I really can stop here or at least I should but I know myself and I won’t I am a productinator of the first order. I will do anything productive to avoid a task at hand that is making me tense. Not sure why that is but it does happen to me from time to time. It’s pretty low stakes but if I do a good job that is a good thing. Just when you thought handwritten notes might be making a comeback. I feel like I’m surrounded by technology, but that I don’t really know a damned thing about it. I need to back off the legumes again. I’m a bit in agony from all the chickpeas. I came upon a daily planner from 2014, a large green hardcover, which I barely wrote upon. And so I’m going to make that my journal now, as lord knows I could use one. The Fact is that I have had the same bunch of notebooks floating around in rotation and they are probably all of them pretty well up to date and to snuff. I have one large thin shiny black hardcover—well I actually have two the same—but only one of them is annotated in this strange way. Where, I’ve gone through it, year on year, crossing out notes I’ve had in there for so long. The thing is everyone has notebooks filled with thoughts which, when you revisit them, prove to still be on your hopes and wishes (if not your to-do) list. And the thing is that my writing is really forever in that it is online and retrievable. Do you often think about how any loved one is going to access any material of yours floating out there (or even get into your computer to retrieve documents) upon your demise? I do.

I heard back from John. He was very sweet. I always feel a bit of crisscross in our conversation but I’m going to let that be his not mine, I beat myself up for enough in this life. Our meeting (S.’s and mine) got moved until next week, which is fine. I’m hiding out, basically, until Friday in any case. I do see things getting cleared up and cleaned up and that makes me happy. There are only ten days left of April and I don’t want to rush the works. This is a fabulous time of year and I want to let myself feel that. I’m looking for no tension or conflict. I don’t care what people thing (only I do, still, but I’m working on it). Did I mention my own personal Draco Malfoy and how referring to him as such kind of says it all about him and how things were always going to be. I want the pleasure of figuring out the world. I want the opportunity and the freedom to purpot. There is no kind of right I have to be in writing the new book. I just want to enjoy this next widget. If book two were to become a success story, that would truly bode well for the entire brand. Right I was going to write about the magic that I think is available here. And why I am connecting so much to Circe as well. I need to read her for an hour before dinner, which still leaved me plenty of time to accomplish what needs doing today and tomorrow. And for all the tomorrows. I might just leave here in about twenty minutes and do the curbside thing and then work from three until five and read that book for an hour. As I move into more multi-tasking a few days I will consolidate my efforts and combine this writing with other needing accomplishing as well. If I were to talk myself through it, I simply get up and start writing. And at the end of the day the sum total of that day’s writing will comprise this Blague for awhile. I tie off today’s Blague and then set up for tomorrow, so all I’ll need to do is wake and write and tie off once again and then set up. It should not feel like a vicious circle (or else why am I doing this in the first place) but rather like an important ritual. So that will be in itself the motor and the expression of the charm of making, the work of the practice of it all. The intention will be kept very high indeed. I don’t think I really at much in the morning in Paris. Rather I believe that I was naturally doing an intermittent fast. The problem now is that I tend to have too much in the way of toast in the morning and feel weighted down. That no longer has to be part of the plot.

No, I actually think I’m in a good place. I will spend the next five minutes clearing the debris from my desk and then when I come back there will only be one thing needing doing that is ceasing to avoid that which I have been avoiding all day. I am putting the right vibe out there. I am working very hard on the intention. I should say more about that. Even in the process of drafting and writing and all of it, I have to be weaving with the knowledge or wisdom that there is a link between the making of the work and the inevitability of limitless success. I want to experiment with the whole notion of belief as I read through all that needs reading through, and then writing accordingly in the process. For starters it’s not too much to ask, and secondly it is really quite a challenge for the mind. I do love a swimming pool, and a very large one, that I can swim at will. I also like to go to the sea but I have become less obsessed with that notion in the wake of shark attacks and deaths. And, anyway, I really want the exercise that a pool might offer. So as I look for what I’m looking for I think I might want that to be part of the package. It was absolutely mind-blowing to find that there was a pool in the basement of my friend’s house in London. A pool! Which is just too fabulous and unheard of all at the same time. The amount of energy required to generate it, alone! I mean I have to tell you that the pool at the Town Hall in Bethnal Green is really quite a gift and I would make it my business to stay at that hotel in the future for a great many reasons—it is close to Shoreditch and Columbia Road and Broadway Market and lots of fun things. I cannot fathom the fact that we once again didn’t get to meet up with Debs and Neil. Next time would be the goal. I might write them and the Tiffany’s at some point in the coming days. Okay, now I am completely where I need to be to get a jump, now, on tomorrow’s project.

The following blocks of texs are exceprts from my first year of  Blagues, nos. 156-160  I am reading through all my Blagues, five per day, and posting some samples here. Now, in my sixth year of writing this Blague, but the time I get to my seventh, I will have through all the daily Blagues of my first five years. If that’s confusing I apologize:

There was an acting teacher called Bill Esper—I wonder if he’s still around. I remember he was famous for getting actors, both men and women, to access their vaginas. Remember, the Virgin of the Zodiac is called Kore, from whom the word core derives. And we all have a real or metaphoric hoo-ha—you might say this is a yoniversal fact. In the spirit of ye olde yin and yang, the power of passivity can be quite strong indeed, and enduring, while aggression, which happens in a burst, isn’t always sustainable. How did Betty White put it? Oh yeah: ‘”Why do people say ‘grow some balls”? Balls are week and sensitive. If you wanna be tough, grow a vagina. Those things can take a pounding.” Such a great quote, that.

To view the original Sabian Symbol themed 2015 Cosmic Blague corresponding to this day: Flashback! The degree pointof the Sabian Symbol may at times be one degree higher than the one listed here. The Blague portrays the starting degree of for this day ( 0°,  for instance), as I typically post in the morning, while the Sabian number corresponds to the end point (1°) of that same 0°-1° period. There are 360  degrees spread over 365/6 days per year—so they nearly, but not exactly, correlate.

Typos happen. I don’t have a proofreader. And I like to just write, post and go!
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Taurus 1° (April 20)

I reached out to cousin Mikey and did hear back, happily. I was thinking how in the world I would ever explain my falling out with the ice angel.; and then I realize that most people couldn’t have been friends with him in the first place. He really is a Draco Malfoy in every way shape or form. And I think it best that I regard him as such. It was never sustainable and I put up with so much abuse. That was my choice. Only I don’t think I was woke to myself in those days. I gave into my physical feelings of fatigue and sat and read this morning, mostly, finally having gotten into Circe which a friend gave me ages ago. It is so right up my alley and I’m finding it inspiring for a future project I have been hatching. There is much to do and needs to be done. I want to figure out how we can be a conduit for artists. If we find that we cannot host here in Provincetown then we will present a virtual festival. Something like that. Honestly I don’t know what to do I don’t think anybody does. If I talk myself through it I know I will come up with something, but it still isn’t the time. I can really start beating down doors, in earnest, come May. I haven’t even heard back from the venue to know if that’s even a real possibility at this point. I need to make a purchase because it does get the juices flowing. However, if I am working on something, not totally on deadline, and can thus do very little, why wouldn’t I choose that. Why wouldn’t I choose to do all the work and create the posters and pay a kill fee just to have it at the ready. I think I should. So first I would reach out to artists and say we are operating as if. It might make sense for us to buy a season pass to stuff? No. We will just make requests to go see things when we can and it’s affordable. Look, this is really the last time I have to come up with some stuff here. In the future it is going to be perfectly matched to what else is up. I need to look at my calendar and put in times to send next year’s books to their editor (S.!).

Okay I had to do a little re-jigging but, as I just said, the point is I’m not really working all that much on deadline. I just have to pump out stuff, so that I can get my brain and hands juicy for the task ahead. I will be in touch with the branding project on Monday and if I hear anything in the meantime, I will say I’ve been dealing with the leak and the fall out from that which isn’t not the truth. I am already starving. I think today I will make a delicious soup of celery and basil for lunch, as we will be eating at different times, in any case; and I will make some more hummus to have with leftover tablouleh for dinner. I need to do some garde manger for the next several days which is easy enough to do. Be right back I’m going to write up some menus. Okay that’s finished as well. I wonder if the website is working for my friend’s shop. I imagine it is. Enough. We are supposed to be chatting today I forgot about that. But it is fine and important I suppose I should prepare things to talk about. I should try and get in touch with the bank and have them set me up. Or I could just wait and catch up to myself. I think I’ll do that. I’m really just letting that account alone in any case. I should be very proud of myself I really should, and on so many levels. I have never properly celebrated the fact that I persevered in the selling of this new book, but I did so and my patience and my tenacity have surely paid off. It feels good to be able to say we have a new book coming out. Well, okay, that I’m writing a new book. (I always get ahead of myself.) The royalty structure on books these days is pretty amazing. If we sell fifty thousand books we will have sold through our royalty or there abouts. I still have to deal with those (old) publisher people. It will keep until all the ink is dry.

 Let’s see. Yesterday was kind of fun, actually, since we kicked off early and watched some of “our stories” and finally dove into Drag Race which is ever a delight. My skin is still crawling to the point of insanity. I’m not even sure what I want to think about today. I want to keep things very simple and I’m super grateful that I don’t have much in the way to do in the kitchen. Still it is so important to keep the house tidy—not like we are having any cleaning help at this current juncture. I’m sure people are; I just don’t know how safe it really is. I am so, so sad that our trip was cut short. I cannot wait to get back to that delicious city and do all the things I love to do. I think I will find myself a pool to swim in; and a nice group of guy friends to do some activities with. I forget that we have a major business opportunity and part of that is presenting this opportunity to others. I need to find a way to sneak that all into the mix, in the initial upcoming twelve days. Otherwise we are going to be in very good shape because I will be writing books, one a year and be able to sell them and make a very steady income as we allow the business to grow and change. I need to do a designated email about the festival and how I am morphing that and how our season has been put on hold and how, if ever, it shall return to normal. Will anything ever be normal again, one has to wonder. There will be breakthroughs and, in the meantime, we will have to figure out a way to fly across the ocean while feeling protected. I look forward to getting a test in any case at some point to determine whether or not I’ve actually even had this thing.

The following blocks of texs are exceprts from my first year of  Blagues, nos. 151-155  I am reading through all my Blagues, five per day, and posting some samples here. Now, in my sixth year of writing this Blague, but the time I get to my seventh, I will have through all the daily Blagues of my first five years. If that’s confusing I apologize:

Occultists, among whom I count myself, discern heirarchies, even, in this spiritual realm. There are the hmm-hmms who spiritually entitize the vegetable realm and their are animal spirits and then there are those assigned to we supposed human wardens of the world. When we are stripped bear we may be forced to recognize this; or we might slowly and meditatively seek communion, or both. It’s curious that there are two guardian angels in this image. Let me ponder that a moment. Well I suppose the simple answer is that two angels are better than one; that if we imagine ourselves wounded or stumbling we might need an angel on either side, to lift and carry us. Also you and said angels do form a trinity of sorts. And, if we were to be assigned two angels, there would be some checks and balances. Why it’s fitting that this symbol would be ruled by Sagittarius in a twelve-fold sequence is because Sagittarius is the zodiac’s Seer. And it is the seers of this world, the clairvoyants, who understand that we are not alone. Ever. That when all is stripped away there is something else, not nothing. There is something on the other side of our personal crucifixions, that is the crux of all existence. Be happy when things are stripped away. Be happy when the noise of distractors, if not your detractors is silenced by their alienation. For in their wake is something that sustains you in this life and beyond. I think of Joan of Arc and her saints and angels. I think of the many seers with their knowing smiles. Happiness is the connection between our inner strength and our conscious mind.

To view the original Sabian Symbol themed 2015 Cosmic Blague corresponding to this day: Flashback! The degree pointof the Sabian Symbol may at times be one degree higher than the one listed here. The Blague portrays the starting degree of for this day ( 0°,  for instance), as I typically post in the morning, while the Sabian number corresponds to the end point (1°) of that same 0°-1° period. There are 360  degrees spread over 365/6 days per year—so they nearly, but not exactly, correlate.