Month: November 2020 (page 3 of 4)

Ma-dun

Scorpio 24° (November 16)

Le shit hits le fan. I was awake most of the night with waves of anxiety regarding the ongoing drama with farmer fuckface. And my psychic power was pumping. We learned that he put our electricity in his name, which would have entailed telling Eversource that we moved out, which we hadn’t done. We had to get that turned back on. I had a draft of a letter ready. We pulled the trigger on that and on the official one from our lawyer. It demanded access to the house but did not replace the storm door insert. It camped outside in a chair and glared and gesticulated at the house and us. Still we managed to have a lovely salmon dinner with salad, stewed tomato and avocado. But sleep was pretty much non-existent.

The following blocks of text are exceprts from my first year of  Blagues, nos. 1146-1150 I am reading through all of my Blagues, five per day, and posting some samples here. Now, in my sixth year of writing this Blague, by the time I get to my seventh, I will have journeyed through all the daily Blagues of my first five years. If that’s confusing I apologize. Year seven, I’ll only have to read through year six, once a day.

One of the topics I’d like to tackle today are those psychic storefronts everywhere. You know how in every neighborhood, including the most expensive ones, like say the West Village in Manhattan which I called home for fifteen years, you find not one, not two but several Psychic joints where, if you were to enter, you’d be greeted by a typically older black-haired woman, seeming to what to discourage you from asking anything of her, let alone her services. Well there was a time, during the early Starsky + Cox years, when we first half-jokingly and then seriously but naively imaginaed taking over these establishments and making them chic versions a la Starsky + Cox; but one day at Jackson Square in the West Village we saw a whole bunch of Russian thugs coming out of one of those places and it suddenly dawned on us (rather late, probably—you all likely know this already) that these places were fronts for the Russian mob and probably tiny bits of money laundering. But of course! But maybe more than that.

Some Ptown friends had an apartment on Bank Street in a large building near Bleecker. I always thought the building creepy when I passed it pretty much daily for that fifteen years; but here, friends had a friend, a woman, who had an apartment on the top floor; but she had moved to another city and, because it was really cheap slash something shady was going on she kept it and these friends of hers we knew paid part of the rent and stayed there sometimes and they offered us in on the deal to split the rent even more. We stayed there and nearly died from what was obviously a gas leak (that we couldn’t report because we weren’t supposed to be there) but from next door, through the wall to this dump’s living room, we could hear loud fucking, but never ending loud fucking; women moaning and screaming—no doubt faking it—and low male voices, Russian voices.

The hallways of the building were filthy, the tiled floors strewn, sometimes with broken green beer bottles. There were always Russian thugs outside, on the sidewalk; if not the same exact guys we saw coming from the psychic on Jackson square, then part of the same tribe, shall we say.

Taken all together I feel that Starsky + Cox have a sort of history with the concept of these ubiquitous “psychics”, “readers”, curiously lodged in all the best neighborhoods. My spidey sense tells me that it’s money laundering, it’s prostitution, it’s sex trafficking, it fucking all of it. And the fact that that fronts for this criminality were the very store fronts I once innocently thought about “buying up” to turn into chic Starsky + Cox versions of the same? O. M. G.. They are there for a reason and it’s not a good one.

So I think this is going to be my angle of attack.

In other news I’m fucking pissed off about Chris Hardwick. Sorry, but there is no fucking way he was abusive. I mean there is but he wasn’t. The ex accusing him I’m sorry but I know her type. I’m serious. I side with women 99 and 99/100% of the time—anybody who knows me knows that—so my emphatic defense of Chris doesn’t come easy. And I concede: I don’t know. But, you know, to see him fired off his show and his name be taken off his brand. Fuck that. I told him: Let me tell you something: Don’t lose heart. The spidey sense says this isn’t a derailment but a redirect. Also people aren’t really buying this one. I see you very clearly rising from whatever ashes this might create. This is more a test of how you deal with it. Don’t succomb to any negative hyphenated words that start with self-. Weather this with grace and ultimately speak your truth. We are with you!


In our book Sextrology, the Aries Man chapter is titled The One. It is a nod to the inherent sense of appointment, being singled out as special, that the Aries possesses; as well as a reference to his innate ability to approach life from his own singular perspective. Aries takes a warrior approach to life, entering into forms of training, if even of his own devising, that will keep him on the straight and narrow, directed toward his goals. He is fiercely competitive, which is why, ironically, he tends to shy away from contests and comparisons. He doesn’t much entertain the aims or even the concerns of others, because for him they might constitute a distraction. Aries is Latin for Ram‚the word arietare means to ram or to butt. As the male personification of this premier astrological energy, Aries embodies initiation and the birthing of new ideas and orders. Mars, whose namesake planet rules the sign. is the Olympian war god who carries a spear—in more ancient mythologies, he was a hunter then herder, carrying a staff, still, like the spear, a phallic symbol. All told, he is a male fertility god, and the virile Aries doesn’t fall far from that tree. Whether it be of a flock, or of a hunt or an army, the archetype is that of a leader. Aries energy is all about initiative if not being on the attack. And to say the Aries man isn’t a follower would be an understatement.

Aries man is on his own trip and it’s near impossible for him to on on others’ He is aggressive in his attempt to get you to engage in what he’s doing, his activities and interests, chief among them: himself, and his goals. The most lone, if not the most lonely guy, their is a natural silence to his existence with which he’s most comfortable, yet with others he can be a bit extra. Not to say all Aries come on strong—many are intensely solitary, even in company. But, either way, he makes a great impact. The Areis male is the most unironically butch, with the fewest androgynes (if any) found in their order. And, whether solo or before an audience, it’s always the Aries man show. He is great at putting it (his ideas, his plans, his creative efforts) out there but it’s difficult for him to take things in. Let’s just say this buster can filibuster, like the fire sign he is, sucking all the air out of a room. He is the most honest of the gender signs, for shiz, and often brutally so. He is the proverbial boss, and he’s good at it, so long as his associates buy wholesale into his vision. Voted most likely to achieve singular goals, Aries man is shot through with adrenalin, just one of many A-words associated with Aries, along with ardour, assertion, aggression, ambition, actualization, achievement—even his biblical and mythological archetypes, Adam and Ares (Roman: Mars) do likewise.

Aries man is the most unapologetic of signs. He embodies the notion that a person must put on his own oxygen mask before helping others do likewise. The unevolved Aries can be excedingly demanding in the assertion of his agenda, given to infantile outbursts when he feels he’s not being heard. At his most evolved, Aries is completely self-sufficient and, when participating with others, will do so detachedly. Somerset Maughm’s Larry Darrell, the protagonist of The Razor’s Edge, is an archetype of the Aries man, the war (god) hero on a soulful, existential journey that sees him renounce the people, places and things to which he’s supposed to be attached. Aries is the embodiment of purpose, the one true one being the full understanding of upper-case Self. Buddha himself was apparently born an Aries. The paradox of being an Aries man is probably the most striking of any individual on the astrological wheel. He is the most physical of men and yet he is the most inclined to realize his purely spiritual nature, separate from others. He is the most objective and objectifying of creatures and yet one who is compelled to look inward, to isolate a sense of pure goodness. He arguable possesses the largest ego of any of us—endowed with an outsized sense of purpose and importance—and yet this will drive him to the most vigilant of men in the pursuit of enlightenment, often through some denial of his physical self, wants and desires. He’s all me, me, me but ultimately in service of some greater good.

C’est moi, is the song sung by the character Lancelot, another Aries archetype, in the musical Camelot. In it, he extols his own superior virtues, both his extraordinary physical prowess and might as a knight but also his remarkable soul and purest heart and mind, “the envy of every saint.” Such is the hyperbole that Aries man is want to reserve for himself. And yet he didn’t escape his animal, sexual nature in the end, no matter how much he exercised his spiritual muscle.

  • They take everything personally • Not only do they have difficulty seeing others’ perspectives, they exhibit no irony in believing that everyone should be looking at life from theirs. • They are the biggest hostage taker. •They are the most unbeholden living life on their own terms and on their own time. If they find, as they often do, a solo vocation where they needn’t much interface with others—solo artist or business owner, carpenter, graphic designer, anything where they can create and come up with any goods alone. Other notions: Stalker tendencies (if denied what they want), hard workers (bad bosses), strong body odor, bossy bottoms, bluster and bravado, Up for anything not for too long, thumbsucking and having to change their diapers. They adore without being clingy. In charge. Always moving onto the next thing. They have short tempers and are prone to tantrums. “Charismatic mansplainers. Active adventurous, but not in it for the long haul. In it for the “moment” and ultimately good with being in the moment (via meditation, etc).

Aries Woman

Aries is, in a word, spirited. In our book Sextrology the Aries woman chapter is called The Original and it does indeed seem her natural birthright to stand out from the rest of the flock, to be unique, if not decidedly so; but the title also refers to something more primal; that the Aries woman embodies femalehood in its purest sense, untinged by the societal dictates or expectations of women, all of which Aries considers to be artifice, compounded over the millennia. She is someone about whom one says she broke the mold. And she is the most naturally feminist of female, cosmically programmed, on can argue, to take an objective view of life, making of it what she will. A strong defense is her superpower and she is forever on-guard, armored, against any people, place or thing that calls for her submission or deference to some patriarchy, especiallly.

Aries is the premier strategist of the Zodiac, endowed with the power to think many moves ahead of others in any situation. She is a master planner and architect of a life lived “at the top”—of whatever field or experience she enters into—planning her work and working her plan until she secures herself a lofty enough position—professionally, socially, artistically—where she will not be put down or subject to censure. She does not take criticism constructively. And, like her Aries brother, she wants freedom in autonomy, had either in solo pursuits or as one in charge with total carte blanche. She is cool, even aloof, on the outside, but internally her mind and spirit burn with ambition, mostly of the goodly kind. That superpower of hers makes Aries a notoriously great defender, particularly, of those whom, or that which, cannot defend themselves—be it women, minorities, children, animals, natural resources or the environment.

We have always found much treasure in the typecasting of actors of the various signs, as they often get pigeon holed by virtue of the archetypes and attributes associated with them. Aries women play unapologetic and unabashed. Their characters can be at war with the world and the men what made it. Though she holds herself apart, she is objectifying of that which she wants, which she wants when she want it. What she fancies should be hers by rights, and she sees no irony in that perspective. Aries is highly selective, after all, and thus singular in her ambitions and would-be conquests. She can be most selfish for love, if not in it. To connect the aliterative dots she is alert, attentive, aware, audacious, avid and avaricious. She assimilates and seeks to do so, most simply. She is exacting and employs an economy of moves, suffering no fools. She isn’t by nature sentimental, and she jettison people, places and things from her life, without regret. When she goes, she’s gone, to coin a phrase.

Like the male Ram, Aries woman also draws on the archetype of the warrior, albeit in female form. The prudent goddess of war and diplomacy, Athena, is her classical archetype. Like her, Aries woman’s steely exterior—never warm and fuzzy—belies a natural compassion not only as a defender of those in need, but on seeks to lift others up. In this we see true purpose of her pursuit of lofty positions: they are a necessity for benefitting those on whom she aims to bestow her patronage. She likes to feel important in this way, to make a positive impact and an obvious difference in the word, to be that proverbial one in a million. Athena gave the olive tree to her namesake Athens, a source of food (survival) and oil (fuel, or metaphorically speaking, enlightenment). War deities were always originally shepherd gods (which is why the first sign of the Zodiac, associated with the origin of life, is that of a sheep) agrarian staffs turning to spears as the world populated and peoples clashed. And we see that original nature in the Aries woman who is uniquely qualified to lead some flock or another, defending them against the wolves of the world. But that takes a fierceness all its own

Which is why, on the flipside, Aries woman is acutely attuned to others’ weaknesses and vulnerabilities and will readily point them out or exploit them in the pursuit of her goals. She is crafty and cunning and won’t hesitate to hold things over other people’s heads, or work them into a corner, if it suits her goodly purposes. Aries is reactionary in the extreme, and yet one might scarcely know it, she is that good at keeping her cards close to her vest. But she will play them, never fear, at the self-appointed time, and she is determined to win. Unfortunately, it can be at any cost, which is her fatal flaw. Perhaps because she is, by nature, rather righteous, she always has to be right, loath to ever admit she’s wrong. This can cause a lot of casualties—broken bonds and bridges—along the way. In signature steely style she might pretend to the bitter end that she couldn’t care less about it; but the truth is she bears the pain of regret deeply. Funny that a large part of the Aries woman’s personal evolution and enlightenment could be hastened by a few heart-felt apologies; they are, as a rule, not forthcoming.


Taurus man is the most evocative of creatures. He is a master of self-cultivation. Like a gardner he designs his persona to appeal to those whose attention he most wishes to capture, presenting himself as an anti-hero of sorts, seemingly subtle and insinuating and self-reverential—even if in the form of self-deprecation. He is rather unstraightfoward in the way he puts himself out there. That is to say he can be oblique, usually asking a series of questions (to which he already knows the answers you’ll give him) designed to illustrate his agenda while you’re the one who seems to have asserted it. He obscures his desires and motivations while diligently exacting them.

In keeping with his symbol Bull, the object (you) has to incite the Taurus’ charge (that agenda). Funny that Taurus is associated with responsibility because Taurus man doesn’t seem to take much of it—however, in the literal sense of the word, he is always responding to people’s reactions to him, and forever making tweaks to his approach so to maximize his appeal. You might say he is synonomous with his wants. And his process in achieving them is one of selective people-pleasing, all the while expressing (or feigning?) a certain guilelessness. The garden being the metaphorical landscape of this fixed-earth sign, his innocent self-cultivation gives way to pointed temptation as he promises others some form or other of favor or delight. But he always takes for what he gives. It’s All About (St)eve, a fact of which most people will be blissfully unaware, just how the little Bully intends it.

Taurus man is endlessly self-reflective, his seeming insouciance belying a carefully crafted persona. The French have the term decontracté which is a sort of negligent chic, in both style and demeanor. Taurus is an expert in this arena, never wanting to appear contrived in any way—when, truth be told, he can be the most self-art-directed of men, down to his paper-thin jeans, perfect stubble and well-rehearsed conversation. He does all he can to look, and make it all seem, natural. He learns early to take stock of skills and talents and to target the precious few that provide him admiration and assistance, even if in the vaguest form of praise. More than most he seeks to be considered an artist at whatever he does.

His main goal is ease, so he might settle for a comfortable success or tiny slice of renown, forgoing a surplus of hard work or sacrifice that might score higher achievement. He is however all for being swept up toward goals by endless assists and favors provided by his ever exanding immediate fan base. Taurus has a way of ingratiating himself into many lives, and often in a way that invites others to take care of him, on some level. Thus he evokes a certain patronage and sometimes stirring some sexual element into the mix. Taurus draws on the archetype of such male flower gods as Adonis, Hyacinth and Narcissisus, the cartoon version being Ferdinand the Bull and his roses. He is better than most people at sustaining a lifestyle that can be characterizes and stopping to smell those posies, that is to say, living in the present.

What Taurus can’t afford in his life are who might see through his more sychophantic ways and thus threaten to out him as an opportunist. This slice of the population is typically comprised of former friends he collected who helped him along the way but found themselves to be stepping stones. Those who continue to serve a purpose to the Taurus, however, will find his friendship addicting, because they are heaped with praise and attention in return, rewarded in kind for their patronage.

Taurus man is a notorious name-dropper, forever seeking to rise by version of his associations. Money is a major motivator to this man of careful action; and even those who pretend to be in love with certain poverty, or to champion the downtrodden, would be the first to cash in if he could…and he often does.

Astrology 101 is always talking about the Taurus appetite and how people born under the sign can overindulge in substances, food and drugs among them. It’s not quite true. Taurus man is more inclined to let you think he has a problem because it elicits more help from others, at the same time endowing him with a romantic, tragic brand of cool reserved for legendary hedonists who become iconic cultural figures. He is more, again, carefully cultivated and controlled a dabbler than he’d have others believe; if anything he is prone to be a pusher of such delights as might border on dangerous, a literal manifestation of the temptation energy associated with his sign. To psychoanalyze this tendency, one might infer that he seeks to derail others as a way of knocking out the competition; because it’s usually those he supposedly admires most that he, if only subconsciously, seeks to undermine. It’s not so much malicious as it is myopic, maybe. And ….


Taurus Woman

Taurus woman comes with a checklist of things they need to achieve and aquire, and they work it till they’ve ticked off each and every item, and then some. This modus operandi provides them security, or at least the sense that they I securing it for themselves. They are sensual creatures with a natural innocence, even when batting their cow eyes at you. Think of them like shutters of a camera, taking in and recording, from every angle, what the abundant world of possibility, or you yourself, might have to offer them. They are efficiency experts, loath to waste precious time—to them a true commodity—on people, places and things not worth their salt. They embody the notion that life should be carefree, doing all in their power to create a safe enclosure for themselves against the savagery of society. They see these same people, places and things in terms of value, investing interest, even the loving kind, only when confident of a solid return. The face of value being deceiving, they can be duped by appearances and overemphasis external trappings, which ultimately leave them wanting.

She is born under the archetype of the naive earth nymphs such as Io, who took the form of a snow-white heifer—the fairy tale of Snow White, innocence incarnate, is a retelling of that myth. These stories are hinged on experience and resiliance—the unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt, typecast with a Taurus actress, is a funny, modern echoing of the same old story of the guileless female learning the often wicked ways of the world, without losing her childlike spirit. And so Taurus’ journey is about understanding her own strength and value without becoming jaded. She embodies the knowledge that our natural state should be one of happiness and living in harmony with nature. But this wide eyed view can also make the Taurus overly trusting, thus vulnerable to would-be snakes in the grass. She will readily learn this in life, and hopefully not too much the hard way.

If Taurus man is the gardener of the Zodiac, Taurus woman is like a flower, itself, delicate, pleasing, and needful of cultivation and care. Enviroment is everything to the Taurus woman, and a loving one is essential for her to exhibit her full expression of talent, value and beauty. She must be rooted in some talent or purpose and allow her surroundings to be a nurturative force. Flowers don’t seek to open part way, they intend toward full expression of their perfumed power and beauty. Flower power is the law of attraction, a superpower Taurus woman personifies. The power of passivity. Partnerships, one-on-one relationships, are key. Trust is her main theme, and yet it requires a setting of absolute safety, emotional or otherwise, in order for her to invest it. Funny that a show of trust is expressed in such financial terms—just as a trust itself can also mean a fund of sorts—as Taurus is the most material of signs, associated with value and esteem. To earn her trust, one must continually prize all the positive and loving assets that Taurus woman brings to the table, which is a lot. As such, she can find herself being used more than most people, whether for her talent or beauty or whatever else might make her a potential cash cow. So discernment is something the Taurus needs to develop lest she become distrustful, especially in love relationships. The irony of being the Zodiac’s proverbial innocent is notoriously attracted to bad-ass, baller characters. The best kind of company she can keep, however, is childlike, fun-loving creatures like herself.

Taurus tends to be naturally playful and prone to goofy, comedic antics and practical jokes. She can, however, be the most demanding of individuals, expecting a lot from the people in her life. She knows her worth and appreciates (read: demands) demonstrations of people’s affection and appreciation. She is a private but social creature who amasses a close circle of friends, those with similar tastes and lifestyles. She is a devoted friend; but she can cut those from her life who belittle or betray her loyalty with nary a regret. She can be competitive financially, and in the measuring of success, and her biggest challenge is being prone to envy of others, which she must learn to channel into inspiration from them. Sisterhood is something from which Taurus draws strength, and she is very much interested in the feminine experience beyond her personal own. She doesn’t revel in solitude; rather she enjoys sharing experience and working as a team, or ensemble, though she naturally acts the boss. If she possesses a bankable talent, she will bring friends and family along for a successful ride. She is mindful with money, even when flush in the extreme, but it won’t keep her from spending on creature comforts—her taste being more cushy than overly extravagant.

Prone to focussing on appearance, Taurus woman will especially indulge in fashion and beauty, and she is rather on the nose when it comes to telegraphing status or wealth—choosing designer labels, luxury cars, living in tony neighborhoods and the like. These all signal proof of her success, as much to herself as to others who might take note. She tends to see herself through others’s eyes, anyway, comfortable in a subjective role.

———

To view the original Sabian Symbol themed 2015 Cosmic Blague corresponding to this day: Flashback! The degree point of 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.

Wunderbar

Scorpio 23° (November 15)

Exhausting day. Cleaning, laundry, shopping, dump, gard manger and then making carbonara and zucchini for din din, which we will eat super early (Sunday lunch style) before diving into the Crown.

The following blocks of text are exceprts from my first year of  Blagues, nos. 1141-1145 I am reading through all of my Blagues, five per day, and posting some samples here. Now, in my sixth year of writing this Blague, by the time I get to my seventh, I will have journeyed through all the daily Blagues of my first five years. If that’s confusing I apologize. Year seven, I’ll only have to read through year six, once a day.

ou know, some days I just don’t know where to start. The state of the world is so troubling and what I didn’t know is how much this was going to effect me and people I know. A friend put up a post on Facebook saying how he thought everything was terrible and was it just him. And another friend (who I have to say is one of the world’s most neediest cases who has called me crying for a handout and has asked for help a number of times—to recommend her for affordable housing, to advance her pay when I’ve employed her, on and on) suggested “just travel” as she is currently in Australia doing a concert and, mind you, is only there because she is traveling on another friend’s dime. To which I responded: Reality check: Geographic cures are not the answer. Anthony Bourdain did a lot of traveling. The state of this country (and world) and what is going on politically is effecting all of us with a conscience and we have to find even the smallest ways of being part of the solution. That is the only way to fight the pall of mass depression that is a deliberate result of an oppressive regime. They are serving us hopelessness on purpose as they dismantle everything we love about being who we are. That is fucking depressing. To tell people to “just travel” is ridiculous. And (AM) you should know as well as anybody the feeling of being stuck and without resource and searching for help and answers from friends to get out of the holes we all find ourselves in. We have to help each other and listen to each other and inspire each other to actually fight. People ask why didn’t the Jews fight back during the Holocaust. Um because they were so demoralized and the erosion was slow enough—the boiling frog syndrome—that by the time it was too late it was. You see we as kind people with a conscience can’t conceive of the evil people are capable of; and those who do evil and plan to oppress others rely on the fact that we can’t conceive of doing such a thing. But this manipulative mechanism is no longer accidental or vague. It is a plot, and a well planned out one where individuals who are antithetical to the institutions they are meant to represent are put in place to destroy them. This is not conspiracy theory. This is happening. So, sure, take a trip and dance barefoot threw the grass that appears greener on the other side, but then come back and become part of the solution. And by the way, the price of jet fuel is going up for a reason. Because not everyone gets plane tickets paid for by someone else; and most of us can’t afford to just jump on a flight somewhere; increasingly that is becoming something only few will be able to afford. Fight. That is the antidote to depression. Fight for your life in even the smallest way you can. It isn’t metaphor. It’s real. And trust your instincts. It is more true now than ever that yes “everything IS terrible.” We all must find a way to do something about it. The struggle is real. And helping others can be the most healfully selfish thing you can do!


I’m just going to type up all the last bits of paper I’d like to throw away and not even judge the content in the least.

Must reach out to top stars to Andy Cohen. Don’t look for anything from them. Instead engage more. Eleganza. I had a dream I met Ken Horgan so I have decided to take some tennis lessons from him (only to later learned he’s no longer doing it). Quinn Cox. William Leone. Letter to menas magazines. I just decided on day recently to get back into it. Than Nelsons. I’m into the Fortnight. AF twitter insta. Agreement for Becca. Add Isaac Oliver to Family. Find and cultivate 1. Letter to Venues. @. Make mini acting resume. Make mini writing resume. Brian letter of agreement. One to two artists a day building the site to Two and Getting materials to Jesse Build sponsor website as we go after them. Preservation al Hall, Provincetown Theater Cotiuit Arts Center. Ask Mitch about Sandra. Fenton Barnus. Edsel. Mildred and the Vidas. Gift cards.

From Lady of the Lake to Lancelot du Lac. Anysaid. Thursday: Growth. Friday: Self Appreciation. Straight White Men. Everyday write a Blague about a place with a photo. Instragram and Tweet from A.F. Write a form ltter to new or college venue.S+ C tweet words about the day. Get on case for new website. What astrology book are we reading?

And that’s the end of that, really. Today is the day I move beyond any sense of catching up in any realm of my existence and feel the wind at my back pushing me forward to do fun and interesting things along the way.

I have the usual artists from whom it’s like pulling teeth to get their information. It’s no longer good enough and I’m going to already research who might be able to replace these horror shows. I’m really sick of my works being undervalued; but it will be my own fault if they continue to be so.

Diane Nelson reached out. She left her job at Warner Bros. a year ago. I didn’t know that. She and her husband Pete and their kids are coming to Truro in a few weeks; so we’ll see them; and also Heather Randall (Tony’s widow) will be coming up because her son is doing some kind of writer’s program, presumably, at the Fine Arts Work Center. A bunch of snobs there I must say.

Provincetown has become super uppity in that regard on the one hand. And yet the cruise shops keep pouring in, dropping thousands of tourists who don’t eat (because they eat for free on the boat) and probably don’t drink much either—they just walk around taking up space. In so many ways it might be time to go to try and carve out a genuine experience somewhere else.

I think we all get attached to what we think we should be doing or to the doing of things we’ve done. And sometimes, even if certain things are going “well” we need to make an abrupt change. I’m feeling that kind of last bow coming on….


The cedar wax wings returned this morning. I woke up at 5am to continue painting upstairs. I love the cedar wax wings. They are like angels. And their calls are like whistles, shrill but delicate. The painting is daunting but, really, I don’t have a deadline.

Four friends from high school are coming to visit. Dave, whom I’ve been in touch with these past four years, as he lived in Paris and we have been going there consistently; and now he’s in New York, in the East Village, so we’ve got to hang there too. Here is actually a really good guitarist. Then there’s Tony whom I haven’t seen since the 1990s. He played in the band the Niagaras, fronted by Robert Whaley, with whom we seemed to click, not sure why. When I was in the Seagull on Broadway, Ethan Hawke starred. And Ethan was close with Robert’s brother Frank who had also been in the band—Ethan and Frank were in Dead Poets’ Society. So Tony is a serious musician.

Then there is Ken whom I haven’t seen but once in 2006 at a high school reunion, and not, before that, since 1987 I believe, when he lived near his parents in Franklin Lakes. We visited him one afternoon or evening and that was the last time I saw Mike, who is also coming to visit. Mike and I go the furtherest back, having gone to grammar school together in Wyckoff where I moved for the fourth grade. He was always pretty rambunctious and kind of a bully—but in that way boys could be when they maybe found themselves having crushes on other boys or sensing a certain ambuiguity in sexual identity. In any case he left high school (military school?) junior year but returned for senior year. At least that is my recollection. I think he and I probably will have the best connection. Though Ken was my dearest friend of the lot, I think he’s become religious. Or at least his wife has become a reverend; Methodist I think. But he always played guitar.

I’m probably the least talented, muscially, and I hope not the fattest. Ironically, I’m the one who performs places like Joe’s Pub, which is only the case because of the wider resonance of the act—these performing astrologers—not because I have any kind of chops. I like to say that I’m a vocalist, not a singer, and not a very good one at that.

I’m at once looking forward to their visit—Stella will be in Canada—and also kind of dreading it, just being which a bunch of guys I hardly know makes me feel encroached upon; and then there is the bathroom scenario. I can’t even think about it. I plan not to poo for a few days. Anyway they all arrive on Friday, June 29th, Tony in the day, the rest in the evening, and Dave leaves the next morning which (when do we sleep?) is going to feel like hell. I think I will do an experiment and drink very little and be the grown up of the group. Honestly I think it’s the only way to pull this off, sanely.


This has always been one of the darkest days of the year for me. I have one sibling (that I know of) born this day and she is probably the worst person you will ever meet. I haven’t had to see her since about 2005, gratefully; and despite what you might be thinking, trust me: there is no going back. As it turns out the mango in chief is also born this day. Flag day. Don’t get me started on the anthem and taking a knee. I’d like to take a baseball bat to that fucker. I cannot wait for the tide to turn and for the return to normalcy. We must vote this creature out; and we must know that our voting process isn’t rigged in the process.

These kids, these girls, toddlers, disappearing at the border: they are being sold into sex slavery, aren’t they? I know it seems sick to say so. But it’s sicker to believe that these pigs are not doing this for the very purpose of human sex trafficking, children sex trafficking. That’s what’s happening here. And the sickos doing it rely on the fact that we non-sickos would think it too sicko to be true. It isn’t.


I can feel a certain radicalism welling up inside me for reals. In some ways I feel quite free. In others I feel quite the opposite. But I can pinpoint the times in my life where I have made strong singular changes. Mostly these moments occurred in my youth, pre-longterm-relationship (which for me means before the age of nineteen!) but somehow there is more freedom in our relationship now than ever. And I am feeling empowered to embark on something of a solo inner journey.

One of the topics I want to explore in the next few days is: a serious argument for astrology. To get started I think I would say that first we have to look at the Zodiac as we know it. It’s something that has always been there, and we’ve pooh-poohed for some reason without really knowing why. Well, they why of it is the advent of the daily horoscope which is a rather new confection, made popular by the birth of Princess Margaret in 1930. But it’s like a sort of mass hallucination that we are meant to mentally, intellectually pass the Zodiac by without really looking at what it is; which is a sort of mandala, a self-contained circle to express all of experience, and something of a system for self-realization. Or at least for discerning to some degree an order to our lives and to the universe.

The symbology and pictography of the Zodiac link directly to the myths and, most extraordinary, to the myths, first associated with the planets (which are named for the chief gods) and with the sign itself. For instance Aries, the Ram, opens onto the myth of the golden fleece; while we might also explore the myths of the namesake of the sign’s planet ruler, in this case, Mars (Greek: Ares, uncoincidentally) and the full estate and legend of the war god who is an apt archetype for the Aries man, just as Athena (the war goddess) is fitting to the Aries woman. Of course, this just one direction one can take in “reading” the Zodiac—here discussing the relevance of each of the twelve signs to people born under them, what is called humanistic astrology—but one can look through the lens of the Zodiac in numerous other ways—there are in fact eight-four different recognized schools of astrology at last count.

To view the original Sabian Symbol themed 2015 Cosmic Blague corresponding to this day: Flashback! The degree point of 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.

Back In The Saddle

Scorpio 22° (November 14)

Slightly more active today. Been perusing the Wellfleet news pages pretty obsessively. Had some back and forth with Patrick which was nice. Looking forward to S.’s return tomorrow.

The following blocks of text are exceprts from my first year of  Blagues, nos. 1136-1140 I am reading through all of my Blagues, five per day, and posting some samples here. Now, in my sixth year of writing this Blague, by the time I get to my seventh, I will have journeyed through all the daily Blagues of my first five years. If that’s confusing I apologize. Year seven, I’ll only have to read through year six, once a day.

Today is never a good day. Neither is eight days from now nor Father’s Day. As much as I love June, I have so many negative associations with it. My sister shares a birthday with Trump; how perfect is that?

Stella comes back today which is good. We have a very busy week after all. I think we may have to move a client, however, which is something, really, we never do. I am so looking forward to these next weeks of painting and so forth; although the blue in the bathroom, I think, might look bad.

I have a nervous feeling of having done something wrong. Do you know that feeling. It’s old. As is any kind of cult of worry. I really have gotten past it. I hope. Although the same demons do come back to bite me in the ass.

There is a note written in my planner on this day about some kind of “trick” for the new book. How crazy and wonderful it will be now to be focusing solo on new thoughts and new material and to be able to represent (the cosmic) here. The stuff that happens in the course of putting those thoughts together is really the Blague (joke) part. At least that is the hope.

It is hard to be motivated when you feel quote-unquote behind. But I have to say, starting some time around the 17th or 18th of this month, I will be seamlessly matching this forum with the what-not I need in the course of the day’s work at hand. Multi-purpose. To which I will add my social media. But I have to spoon that stuff in.

I really do feel that I will have a large following eventually on here; but to do that I actually have to tell people I write this. Yeah, see that could be a problem…

A friend asked a question to which I want to answer.

 Hi! I’ve given your question some thought and I think the answer is in making tiny adjustments that work with the unfolding or rather, are part of it. First of all, enjoy the magic, make no major changes, keep things basically just the way they are; allow yourself to enjoy the way things are this year; much of the relaxation you feel is in comparison to last year with the boat and such; so this year just enjoy the fact that business is growing, and will be booming, just as you find yourself with more calm and time which, being summer, we talked about your using to get to the beach, surf, and otherwise provide yourself a 360° existence even whilst in your busy season with a burgeoning business. I think being available to the steady success of Baie while not stressing out in the least would be the greatest accomplishment and constitute “success” at the juncture. You might find that this is a rhythm you want to establish for all time.

There really is nothing cooler than a successful business that doesn’t have to do promotion. And I would basically shy away from doing anything traditional—no press releases, no nothing of the sort. The right people already know that Baie is a rare gem of quality culinary experience in Provincetown. All you have to do is to continue to express yourself and your creativity and to unfold the beauty of your vision and share it. Which is exactly what you’re doing. Should you have some beautiful business cards made? Of course, but only when you feel like it. Meanwhile you can get a stamp and some blank cards, whatever. It doesn’t matter. Just keep enjoying and creating the experience. They will continue to find you. Believe us on this one.

Now, just as you might get some nice cards, you will keep up your Instagram, which is already beautiful; and you’ll find your own way and language with the messenging and the photography. I think if you’re looking to “promote”, say, the daytime experience at Baie, you might focus on that bit of the experience, otherwise just letting your followers know what’s cooking, what’s being thought of the kitchen, maybe a little philosophy or why you love cooking certain things or elements of decor or wines or desserts or what have you. You could hone that personal voice coming from Baie into Social Media.

But that’s all I would do this summer if that. I think post-season you can be more reflective. I think doing some cool, boutique events in the Fall might be interesting and “newsworthy” for local press and so forth. But, ultimately, what should happen post-season, is cultivating your chef profile and, if there is promotion to be done, to let media, newspapers and I think television, especially, know that you are who you are and you have the resume you have and you have this exceptional restaurant in an exceptional place and that it is a destination for international tastemakers, designers, food critics, etc. And in the meantime the mainstream press will be coming there and writing you up without your lifting a pinky these next three months.


Not much on the books today, thankfully. I ‘ll just keep the flow going on writing and do some painting and other home improvement stuff. And I’m just going to let the festival shuffle along for a full days, having things pretty much where I need them to be this month en route to pulling major trigger after July 4.

I have this dream of opening a stationers shop. I feel it’d be fun to have a bunch of beautiful things in stock, and to do classy printing and other such things, working with some kind of genius designer of that sort—possibly Emily; now that’s an idea—so that would entail looking for some backing all it’s own. Not sure. But I do like the idea of paper and tangible items. Perhaps doing jewelry and stationery simultaneously. Something modeled on those little black books I used each year during the 90s, they’re all down stairs filled with wide-eyed plans and fear of death. And of course telescopes, objets d’art, and so forth. I will miss not going to Kirstie Alley’s house this year, but Alaska should be pretty fun too.

Weightloss begins at the emotional level.

Among other things, I’m all caught up, pretty much, on my banking and so forth. I was intrigued by the notion of the golden visa in Portugal, but honestly I think I can do better. Not to say having an apartment in Lisbon or Porto wouldn’t be cool, but, truth be told, I could just focus on France for a couple of years, with a few side trips here and there. There is a small apartment available in “our neighborhood” which might do the trick for a bit. I wonder if we mightn’t be able to set ourselves up at Mrs. Ma’s, to be honest. That would make quite a splash I must say.

The thing about [sic.] is I cannot stand to make mistakes or break anything. I feel that all will go wrong if I accidentally smash an old coffee or tea cup; and then it usually does because the power of that weird belief. It’s about how I’m hard on myself. That’s a theme.

Newsletter Stories: The Grant for New England Artists. The New Glow Festival. The new name of the Oberon series and who is in it. This year’s roster. What we are aiming for with grants in terms of residency. The amping of the Sparkler program.

Paris is all I can think about. And to that point I think that I should make it a goal to have it be the one city. And if push came to shove the only place I live. It really is so doable. And we will be rather forceful in our bid for residency because why not. We can totally make this formula work. And indeed I have every intention of making it so.


 Action Items

(Leo) meditation : that you are the appointed to so that who you are and what you do is the most important thing. Everybody wishes they were you. Anecdote about the Dr. role in Streetcar. Or that commercial where the old lady physicist is a celebrity.

List: What are the top ten things about being you?

Biz

Wikipedia and IMBD

The Apothecary. G. K. D. F. Sexy metal containers. How to make essential oils, room energizers, dentefrice.

Letters to Editors starting with Michelle Promalayko.

Books

the notion to run Wheel as one would a magazine. March 2019 would be anniversary edition of Sextrology plus the book club of sorts for generating even more ideas. working backwards from March! Do the fortnight thing then?

Needing to put not one but two proposals into works.

Sidebars: Paradox, Color, Plant, Animal, Asteroid, Tree, Lesser Gods (smaller muscles), your place on the wheel, individual birthday? not for this book.

Revisit the Sabian Symbols as they relate to the BB of Ds.

A-scopes
The foreign world of books
Lectures, workshops

Social Media

Putting together a content Calendar. Morning S + C Tweet

re-merching magazines that have covered us, maybe Throwback Thursday?

Looking for blaggers with more than 25K followers—working out some kind of trade maybe.

Crosstalk. We could converse with each other, on Twitter. Instagram visiaul only

Today is the Day That X Happened.

Alias Corbett-Leone? Things we did in the past that are fabulous

The Weather Within….brought to you by As Above So Below, the fastest acting metaphysical alignment solution on the market!

Mantra Monday.

Fortnight work.

Sexy Wednesday : Hump Day? 3 Instagrams per day?

QC Twitter is Blague related.

Following the intro inserts, Blague will focus on the sic. It must revert to personal writing.

Afterglow

Performers: Falcone and Darlene.


Book

Libras make up words, sniglet
Geminis see life as a bargain they’re making.
Sidebars: Colors, Stones, Plants, Animal totems, Additional myth, Taro cards.
Scorpio mining the material Taurus
Talk about signs in terms of their placement on the wheel, before and aft?N’s sentences can com off of house rulership and keywords for the most part making it manifest in the third person, etc

Aries the most elemental female putting out signals, actiely wanting. grazing, grazing. Aries is all gimme gimme gimme

Shows and Songs

I remind myself there is a Lecture Worksheet
W.I.T. is about S + C evolution
Update the song file…You’ll go to Hell et al, en route to archiving all shows
The Friendly Fires song Paris
Nothing in this world can stop me thinking about….Kinks/The Shelters

Social Media

QC Twitter. Every individual performer plus key ones. Laura Linney Tony Goldwyn, SJP et al. QC folows personal friends and places around the world. More travel. And posting about things done as QC and WL

Travel writer Resume

S+C other metaphysicians, clientele, cool things of that sort.

Afterglow

Realtors, Hotels, Boston folks, Wharf people, Press release.

Social Media

Afterglow Twitter follows all our artists and local businesses. Glow fest follows all boston people, local

 Design

Magical Metallurgical D. Jewlery. D. Adornment
Power in symbols and shapes and colors
Stones as well as metals, alloys. Precious stones have power
Symbol for each degree. Esoterially empowered
Lockets, Amuluets Tannis route
Solid perfoume
Hans Jared? Josephine.


This melted circus peanut does not represent me as an American citizen. The G-7 summit is like having your crazy, raged-filled addict, thug-mental father, whose abuses you’ve had to withstand behind close doors, suddenly flaring up at a graduation party or other such gathering of friends and their families, revealing what you’ve had to endure in the privacy of your own world. There is certain embarrassment, apology and shame; and yet a sense of relief that outsiders are witnessing first hand the type of environment in which you’ve had to live and try to endure. As the Congress of enablers sits back and lets it happen—both complicit Republicans and doormat Democrats—we find we have to take to the streets and to the airwaves and to social media to let the world know that we are being held hostage by this erratic blob of melted crayon nobody wants to color with. This is beyond flip-flopping. This is deliberate confusion and dysinformation on parade. The cringeworthy cretan showing up late, causing conflict, leaving early. This is the dysfunctional relative that ruins every family gathering because they have no real personal power but the bravado of their position to cause disorder and chaos. We need to disown this miscreant. This Grendel. This Gollum. This gargoyle mass of makeup and eyebags and grease and hair must be impeached and prosecuted and ultimately put a way in a cell where he belongs, mumbling to himself to the end of his days about his power of self pardoning. He has got to go now.

People say “someboday has to do something” and yes well I think that somebody is you and me and everyone we know and we have to do both those things. and we need to see some strong democrats who speak up with some fire, and rally crowds all their own, awake and emerge from this sleepy hollow of progressive idealism. the era of polite democratic politics is over. rolling up ones sleeves needs to be more than affectation. it has to be necessity and in small towns all over this nation people like you and me should be plopping down a soap box and starting to spew some love for this country because, like Cher and others said, this Gilead shit is real.

To view the original Sabian Symbol themed 2015 Cosmic Blague corresponding to this day: Flashback! The degree point of 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.

I’m Lucky

Scorpio 21° (November 13)

I was pretty much useless today. Couldn’t even be asked to cook anything. Thank goodness for tinned sardines.

The following blocks of text are exceprts from my first year of  Blagues, nos. 1131-1135 I am reading through all of my Blagues, five per day, and posting some samples here. Now, in my sixth year of writing this Blague, by the time I get to my seventh, I will have journeyed through all the daily Blagues of my first five years. If that’s confusing I apologize. Year seven, I’ll only have to read through year six, once a day.

Our daily walks are the saving grace; and I need to embrace them all the more. I have over three weeks until my high school friends come to visit and the vanity in me is determined to get a little edge in the rest and exercise department. I’m weird I know. It’s been such a dark time in our country and I can’t help but feel really strung out by the bad baby sitter. People seem a bit crazy to me, which I know puts my own sanity in question. But I think when you have a bully running the show it gives license to other bullies. I want to get out in front of all these feelings, but it is terribly challenging. Two words: Nova Scotia.

Seriously the smartest thing to do might very well to figure out a way to get a house in our neighborly land to the north. I can’t believe we would go so far as to alienate that country of all countries. I’m not saying anything earth shattering here today I know. And I worry that I’ve lost my sense of humor. Everything feels like its happening in a dream, or rather a nightmare. This must be the last time I do certain things the way I’ve been doing them. I need to drum up more easeful support for my efforts or simply stop doing them.

I’m in a place where I am trusting very few people; and in regard to my visiting friends I think these two thought forms go together. I think I need to be around people who knew me when after spending far too long being around transient narcissists. There is that one narcissist nemesis who I despise with most fibers of my being. The one who infiltrated my world to meet and ultimately befriend my more influential cronies in the world of art and entertainment. And he’s done very well for himself, convincing them of his worth, showing only the bright colors (although he also offers them heroin, the fools) all the while playing (St)Eve Harrington. Someone should do a campy remake called All About Steve. There is a film of that name but it’s not the same story. Anyway…

There is something about the Taurus narcissist, especially. The sign ruled by Venus, rubs me, a Libra, also ruled by Venus the wrong way. Mine is masculine sign and rather objective and Taurus is subjective—look at me! I want to be looked at to, but more appreciated, and not so much for my talents as my ideals, I suppose. I can’t stand injustice I can tell you that much. And I can’t stand the feeling I’ve been or am being used. In the end I feel disdain for a character like Steve. But really I become so disappointed in my friends who fall for that sort of thing. Anyway, this phase of my life is ending as I embark on all new things. It’s like I tell clients: You really do have to let go of the vine you’re swing on sometimes in order to grab at a new one.

All I really want to do today is listen to full CDs. What is the best way to do that I wonder. I should ask Tony Grimaldi, he will know. I actually still can’t believe that my high school friends are coming to visit. What I realize we share is that we are all super savvy—we’re plain old smart that’s for sure, and we all have a ton of references, but we’re also kind of slick. Maybe it’s because we grew up on old movies with fast dialogue and all had parents that were determined, to varying degrees that we would make something of ourselves. I do hope Tony arrives a day early as, of all the fellows, he is the one I really know the least and could use some alone time with. We shall see.


I am at once really looking forward to getting back into the hot room and also dreading the hell out it. The dread is pretty real. Meaning, I’m actually scared I’ll keel over. I’m going to have to be so, so gentle in this process of reentry. And meanwhile, I have been walking about two-to-three miles in the sand which is great. But these are all just words. The fact is I feel as if I’ve lost a part of my spirituality. That might sound strange. But once upon a time, in my early twenties, I was the guy reading the Vedas and the Upanishads. I think my doorway into spirituality was ironically J.D. Salinger as I wanted to be one of the Glass family; and they were all spouting Buddhist and Hindu and Christian and other forms of mysticism.

I associate these early glimpses of burgeoning mysticism with alone time on the beach at the Jersey shore where I would take my beach chair and my slim Salinger novel and a course catalogue from B.U. for, even, the first year of school, and all the Chronicles of Narnia I borrowed from my friend Ken, as I had never read them. And that was my literary stash and my comfort, taking me through the day, wiggling my chair with my ass to face the sun all day long, until there was a sort of click in of said heat, light and sea spray, and the world all faded to a blue wash, blood pressure probably dipping below normal. I would just space out and not smoke cigarettes, which, unfortunately I had been doing since I’d been eleven (god help me). And I just felt a sort of peace in waves of spare sentence structure and childlike imagination and eastern religion all mingles together with the smells of Hawaiian Tropic oil and greasy hamburger smoke wafting from the nearby boardwalk grill.

There was a very bearable lightness of being at that age in any case. And I suppose I was naturally manorexic—that is to say I liked to go long hours without eating because it gave me a bit of a high, airy sensation. But it was just the sense of not having to be anywhere. I began working my first job at fourteen, but at seventeen, the year before college, I made the conscious decision that I wasn’t going to work that summer. I was going to walk the one block to the beach. I was going to space out in the sand and read. Sometimes I would wake at dawn and creep out of th house and swim in the bit of water that was like a cover, next to the jetty, all pink with the rising sun. Just me and the gulls and the occasional imaginary shark—Spielberg was truly a buzz kill. Then I would emerge, no towel, and tip-toe run back to the house, drop my wet things, wrap myself in a towel and eat fresh cut cantaloupe my mother would have in a bowl covered with foil in the side-by-side fridge.

I didn’t know then that so much of what I considered to be hopelessly middle class would be looked upon, in hindsight, as luxury. I doubt my parents ever made as much money as I do, by my wits, in a given year. But I can barely make ends meet, without kids, while they would have had plenty to spare, there, for awhile; that is before economics began trickling down. But more than that I had freedom and autonomy. And I don’t think it’s age but culture that has whittled those things down to a nub. Cellphones were the start. We can’t be anywhere where nobody knows where we are. Sometimes after the summer crowds leave I can walk out onto the beach in Provincetown and just stay there, no satellite to find me, for hours on end. But I don’t have whole summers to do that as lucky as I am, not having a job where I work for anyone or punch a clock. If I had to punch a clock I would surely punch a more than a few people out cold. I know myself. I don’t like to be told what to do and/or when to do it.


It’s Sunday and I’m wistful but also, maybe a little at my wit’s end? I truly have news fatigue and so I’m taking a major step back. I’m quite proud of the fact that I’ve put many major wheels in motion and my only wish now is to keep that momentum going because it is so key. I know that in just a matter of days I should be firing on many cylinders again, as is my custom. I don’t want to overdo it today, being Sunday. So I thought I’s put some inspiring words I recently encountered as part of an exhibit at the Peabody Essex Museum in Salem, a town which is very much on the radar for me…

…but again, I must keep my head where me feet are, and not try to plan some inevitability that is impossible to fully shape…I need to get where I’m going, immediately, and then make the most of where my imagination might take me. This coming year might prove to be the most interesting of all, whereby we travel back and forth as needed. I will need a surrogate in Boston to work some magic. Brian King is actually the perfect character to step in and speak about how Afterglow was created by myself and a group of artist friends including John Cameron Mitchell, Justin Vivian Bond and Taylor Mac, all of whom sit on our Advisory Board. Like: “Hi I’m Brian King and I’m filling in for Quinn Cox who is in Paris…etc. Lay it on thick.

I’m looking forward to closing the loop a bit on the consultancey whilst taking it to the next level Anyway, here, a poem by TC Cannon whose art show was absolutely mind-blowing. More about how Salem can factor in, anon….


Money laundering is on my mind, because everything anybody is saying anywhere is going to amount to that in any case. It’s the disjointed, dysfunction, deconstructed reality that’s infiltrating my real and etheric body, making me feel crunched out to the core.

So I don’t feel like it makes sense to even be speaking in complete sentences as I am now. Instead feel the need to jumble, and so I shall:

This Blague consists of daily horoscopes. Then I insert a bit of writing from the recent past, things I want to bring forth and elucidate and expound upon. This would consist of my analysis, frankly. It is in a way a mechanism for writing.

I could do the same thing, reading Sextrology. Would be fun to do a Sextrology book club and expound upon what was mentioned therein, chapter for chapter. Great way to get new ideas. Also to discuss the fifteenth anniversary edition, which will be fun to do. It’s difficult to force oneself to do it but I think it really, but it would be the easiest thing.

I think we really are naturally good at branding. It’s just a matter of our having been derailed, and rightfully so; we had given it our all for quite a long time, and the spark necessarily went out. In some way, it felt like the last time I cared about looking telegenic; I don’t say that wistfully, only truthfully. It was time to live without that expectation that national exposure was just within reach—to be fair after so many years fielding so many producers and making so many reels and sizzles, it fizzled out.

I’m in my fourth year writing this Blague. I have untold material here. And shall continue to have, I guess. But we’ve been over this and over it. I’m on call tomorrow with two clients. There will be lentil soup and salmon and little else. Heard from Joe’s Pub today and am super excited we’ll be performing our Christmas show there again this year.

The theme is going to be all the ways we slay, all the signs, and what our divine powers for doing so are as per our star-sign

I remembered the transgender concept for Nextrology. Trans people of the sign explore the inner polarity between the male and female as embodiment or enactment of signs energy. Others are more about their opposite male or female character across the Zodiac, an external polarity.


I feel the weight of a thousand broken relationship and the interconnectedness between them, imaginary though it may be, banging some kind of drum, plotting my undoing. Yeah that’s not a real thought. It’s just dread of any kind put into words mayge. I don’t know really. This is the day I do have two clients by phone and spoke to Dave. And nearly turned a corner, but not quite. And then there will be a day to come that will be even more a burst of extinction. I’m gearing up to win some things. And I always win some things. I have a dream and it would be super nifty if it actually came true. When did I buy Priorat, or was this something else? I think it was, actually; and that I had some leftover for during the week. It’s possible that I did. It might even have been the following day.

I do believe I can start marrying this with some thoughts that need generating in any case. I believe I’ll do that tomorrow. Today was a day for meditating and releasing all the pain and tension in my body. I lay on the sofa in the living room for what seemed three or four hours, lost in the psychic surgery I sensed my body needed. I spoke with Dave.

It is soon time to tell the artists: Dear X As the Afterglow Festival in Provincetown celebrates its eighth year, and we enter our fourth year presenting our autumn-to-spring Afterglow-at-Oberon series at the American Repertory Theater in Cambridge, we are making plans to create a circuit of venues in New England and throught the Northeast.

 Simply called Glow, and tag-lined A Moveable Festival, we hope to create tours for artists through this would be circuit of venues, such that dozens of artists can move through dozens of performances spaces, cultivating audiences in smaller cultural cities and towns, while providing artists with bookings and the ability to connect more widely and more intimately with these audiences. All with Afterglow in Provincetown at the core, continuing to be an incubator of progressive works from emerging and evolving stage artists.

 This year, we received a tour-planning grant to do just that for a New England-based artist—there is a subsequent grant we’ll apply for next year to help with the actual tour; and we will apply for another planning grant for a second New England-based artist, and so forth. This has provided a motor for us to reach out to influential theaters, universities, museums, arts centers throughout New England in establishing these tours and to open up the larger dialogue about touring any and all artists who have performed under our auspices in Provincetown and Cambridge.

 Honestly, I have been pleasantly shocked at how many venues already knew of Afterglow and its work; and what I imagined might be pie-in-the-sky places have enthusastically welcomed the notion of our creating programming for them as we would for other venues, bringing a sensational string of artists through their doors on a steady basis…..

It trailed off there. Oh well.

To view the original Sabian Symbol themed 2015 Cosmic Blague corresponding to this day: Flashback! The degree point of 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.

Half Dozen Of Another

Scorpio 20° (November 12)

I have some reading of the existing chapters to do today. And I will draft the front of book matter as well. Or at least place it in some kind of order. S. will head out in an hour and I will do a wee toilette, then I’ll drop off the carbage around 9, back at 9:30, and ready for my day by 10:30. I have a pretty stocked fridge. There isn’t too too much to say nor should there be. 

The following blocks of text are exceprts from my first year of  Blagues, nos. 1126-1130 I am reading through all of my Blagues, five per day, and posting some samples here. Now, in my sixth year of writing this Blague, by the time I get to my seventh, I will have journeyed through all the daily Blagues of my first five years. If that’s confusing I apologize. Year seven, I’ll only have to read through year six, once a day.

Was a wonderfully lazy day. I lay in bed and watched a pretty bad movie, Game Night. Formulaic. And anyway, in the midst of Jason Bateman backlash, his schtick is wearing a bit thin. I do love me some Rachel McAdams though I must say. Anyway, I was wondering how the Jersey boys would feel today and it seems everyone is still up for it; even though I imagined the whole thing unraveling. But for now it is still on which is cool. My mind starts to race about whether or not I’ll be judged by folks for my lifestyle or for my house which is really weird because in the end I could live in a cave and it would still end up exhibiting an enviable aesthetic. I am sort of recovering today. It is a holiday weekend and I know I’ll end up working tomorrow; so for now I’m just doing lists in my head, really.

I need to schedule day to scan all our press to date and start getting rid of hard copies we don’t need. I drafted a letter of agreement for Brian which I need to finalize. I need, in the coming days, to focus on an artist or two per day getting all their materials sorted and onto the website and such. And I have to update the sponsor bit on website too as I bring in funds. I want to contact Preservation hall and speak to David Drake about our tour. Also the cotuit Art Center. I had a thought about Sandra Bernhard and asking Mitch for her contact in a way that wasn’t cringey but I’ll hve to re-remember it. It was a similar formula to dealing with Andy Cohen I think.

I’m glad Diane Borger was able to come see Fauxnique. I tried to wipe a little bit of slate clean but I wasn’t convinced it happened, if yo kow what I man. But I will write to all the A.R.T. folks and let them know they are invited to Afterglow. I just need ten columns of ten people to make up a hundred hundred dollar sponsors. I do still need to get a good letter going to venues. And it was funny looking at the Czars site how so many PR are looking for writers; I need to know what that means exactly. I should really make it a focus of mine to work the mens magazine angle.

This is a letter of agreement between Afterglow and Brian King (& What Time Is It, Mr. Fox?) as concerns the piece “Gravitational Fool”, in the execution of a NEFA planning grant and showcase, and subsequent tour, with or without the receipt of a subsequent NEFA grant. Afterglow will pay a total guarantee of $1500 to Brian King and company as “artist fee” for their rehearsal time and performance of the showcase; and keep an additional $1500 in reserve from which Brian King and company can draw for the purposes of reimbursement for work conducted or expenses incurred by Brian King and company, as per Brian King’s discretion. Invoices and/or receipts will be provided for reimbursement…..

That’s a start anyway.


Up and Comer!

I’m in love with Jodie Comer which means she’s probably pretty butch. Though I married a statuesque brunette, as a child I was continually attracted to blond tomboys. Jodie Foster was the basic model of all the girls to whom I was attracted, from Jennie Hoey as a young child growing up in Jersey City—she swung perilously on the swings and hung upside down on the monkey bars and did all sorts of fearless non femmy things. The there was a string of blonds, fourth grade: Martha Bader; fifth grade: Diane Arpert; sixth grade DeDe Bartley; Moo Quackenbush and Audrey Smith in high school; and that girl Lisa who played lacrosse, hackeysack, ultimate frisbee and the like at University.

I’m a bit obsessed with Calabria right now, which is weird I know. It seems there are some fairly spectacular beaches there and I do trace my family from there so…for sure we are going to take a trip there next year, likely in keeping with our thirtieth wedding anniversary. Thirtieth, wow. We were meant to go to Venice on our honey moon—we actually might just make it this time. Anyway I’m going to keep researching the places and get a handle on what’s what. None to shabby to be able to get to Rome on a whim too. If I have to be in America then this part of the world is great. If I don’t have to be in America, there are so many places to discover and explore.


I keep trying to add pictures from my voyages to the Blague but they don’t seem to want to play a part in their present format; I will go back and beautify these installments as the fancy strikes. Today being Tuesday post Memorial Day we had a great meeting and really got cooking on weekly minutes. It will take through the weekend probably to execute all we have put in motion but we are doing a-ok. I am currently on a pause from writing next year’s weekly horoscopes while topic number one today was putting this year’s books on sale since we are five months in already. That coupled with an announcement of our summer consultancy should make a nice mailer this week on the Starsky + Cox side of things.

Robert Duffy, Bryan Rafanelli, Marlo Fogelman, Heather Wells, Andrew Joseph are running through my mind. As are which magazine editors to contact, which bridges into Paris Consultancy.

I will never get to balancing my checkbook. Not this week, anyway. We had a lovely donation from the Nelson Trust whom I will have to thank on Monday. I am admittedly spread quite thin but I believe myself to be hitting all marks, as well as being preventative. I’ve let my writing slip a bit again but I’m already catching myself up. There are so many books to read and so much minutiae to dig through. And yet it’s getting to the point where the story is writing itself…and I am the story. It’s a place I’ve been wanting to get to. But I have to be careful not to become over elated.

I am looking back on words and pictures and seeing there was a rather specific time I felt at my happiest. I believe it might have been four years ago, the winter of 2014, when we were in L.A.. I think it was one of S.’s favorite times too. We were on a super health kick that I remember. In some ways I’m still there and in some ways I’ve lost it completely. I’m so tentative when I write here and yet I’m quite aware nobody is ever reading this—can you believe I do this everyday? Well I suppose there are others who do the same. As a matter of fact I know there are.

We have on client this afternoon so my mind is a bit divided, but we are getting our brains around consistent exercise and I’ve been tearing my way through clutter, getting all cylinders ungooked in preparation for some seriously determined and diligent dilletantism—my way of saying that letting myself be spread thin is often a choice whereby I prep each spoke of the wheel of my experience and then pull the mult-trigger all at once knocking several large projects out of the mark en meme temps. I’m so fortunate that I get to have Paris in my life whenever I want it; and someone there to help me navigate the residential aspect of the city. Next year Venice. That is one thing for sure.

When our clients listen to us they do tend to succeed. Does that sound like hubris on my part. Maybe. Oh right I had a dream about Ken Horgan owner of the Pilgrim House in Provincetown and also tennis pro. I’m going to visit upon him for various reasons.

Honestly that feels like enough for today.


It being Wednesday today is a big client day. It is in many ways the diaspora day as each of our clients today have Central American roots. I felt really empowered speaking with all of them. One of our clients who has been struggling in the attempting of some very big things seems mega balanced. Others are raw and others are ready. All are both. I’m slightly wondering if I’m testing the boundaries of client-counselor privilege. No I’m not! That is a total joke.

I actually like the blurred lines that exist between clients/friends. It doesn’t upset me in the least—au contraire—I’ve always been able to mix business with pleasure. But it’s funny I do feel like swooping in and making things happen in a big way for some of our clients. I know this has been on S.’s mind but we might ask for a good deal more in retainter and really dig into people’s businesses and visit them and go through their day with them and really deconstruct them. Ut oh. This is the TV show.

Been talking with the boys about their visit:Me: Didn’t we used to call weed beige

Tony: Mostly it was Beans  Beanage

Me: Beans yes i do remember that term especially before first period Art lol we sort of just slipped out a back door in the 500 wing and I think we created a lot of cigarette smoke (I did) to mask but you me and ken were baked most first periods

whatshis face hated me. ms. nelson and ms. serra loved me tho

Oh, hi. I do have a family of regret. Want to hear it? I regret not having that ultimate preppy boyhood experience. I regret not being totally relaxed and having a father who was confident in his own skin and connected to his community. I was lucky I moved where I did as a kid, but I feel like I barely did. Like we found some nice suburb where we had good friends and perched ourselves in a newly built house in 1972 right on the highway so that it was easy for Him to travel to work and back. There was no safety to begin with. Not the kind of safety that is purchased through generations of staying put.


I was looking forward to a little alone time today and honesty, though the daily constitutionals have been fantastic, I lack the basic feeling of the suburban man, tooling around in his car, going to the bank, the post office, the hardware store. So I did that this morming for two hours; I could have done it for two days.

I got the bug in my ear do do some stuff like buy some paint and lighting and be all sort of proactive about my abode. I bought a whole bunch of colorful paints, in pints, and I’m going to thus experiment as I go. As a signpost I saw Tim of TimScapes who always calls me “power neutral” and i was wearing a light grey shirt with white jeans and charcoal grey sneakers so whatever but I was buying paints in the following colors: bright grass green, teaberry pink, navy blue. vivid lilac, as close to Hermes orange as I could muster (so it was more bright) and some chalkboard black!

What I gleaned from the meeting with Steve is that people generally get to the point of having a buisness plan like ours when they already have some money people lined up; so as we move the whole operation back another six months, we have to speed up our process of finding investment. We have to be clever an unapologetic about it and speak the truth in reaching out in this first friends and family round. As far as the next conversation went this is what I had to say about that:

To view the original Sabian Symbol themed 2015 Cosmic Blague corresponding to this day: Flashback! The degree point of 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.

Six Of One

Scorpio 19° (November 11)

It is Ed’s birthday today and we shall give him a jingle around 10. It’s now 7:30 and I’ve been up since 5 but didn’t fall asleep until 12:30, so yeah It’s going to be a bit of one of those days. There will be room in the schedule once I get cooking, so I’m not going to worry at all. I need to produce about four to five pages a day on average to keep this party going. And I need to lean and relax into it in the process so to play the long game. Look, larger works of art or whatever have been created in less time. It is all about focus and really nothing more. There is enough work under my belt to let this flow and be creative, and still enough time in any given day to accomplish what needs accomplishing. So I will get my brain around some of that today and spend the next hour or so organizing my pages for the day. And then I might just focus on a structure for the intro in the afternoon. Going to make a lovely egg drop soup for lunch. And roast some cauliflower and sweet potato (to mash together) and stir-fry a packet of cabbage and co. that is typically meant for slaw. A bit of Asia today. S. off tomorrow to Boston which brings trepidation on a number of levels. But one cannot live fearfully right now because it is already a fright. I will get some crazy glue. That was a non sequitur in a sea of them. I used to have time to play Bananagrams. Now I don’t even want to. I wonder how The Queen’s Gambit is affecting the sales of chessboards. I will spend four hours today on the next chapter, proper, and then an hour or so on the introductory words. 

The following blocks of text are exceprts from my first year of  Blagues, nos. 1121-1125 I am reading through all of my Blagues, five per day, and posting some samples here. Now, in my sixth year of writing this Blague, by the time I get to my seventh, I will have journeyed through all the daily Blagues of my first five years. If that’s confusing I apologize. Year seven, I’ll only have to read through year six, once a day.

Awoke at the Merchant in Salem, dreaming some demon was trying to have sex with me. Actually a little something might have gone down, but I definitely woke myself up before full possession ensued. I think. We’ll see. But it was a spooky house in a spooky town. Remind me to tell you the story about my first trip to Salem, freshman year. We sat on the terrace but there were windows which were people’s rooms and we can actually sense them shuffling around so we went downstairs and there was a breakfasty type thing like a frittata and yoghurt and it was nice. Coffee was eh but coffee is always eh and I love the place. But I was buzzing about yesterday’s meeting and wanted to get some thoughts down and here they are…

Great to see you yesterday as always and I think that it was all in all a productive meeting. I trust that, should we come to terms with Endicott, it can tick some boxes in the planning process for the tour itself. I am going to raise some red flags here in this note but don’t be afraid LOL. It is all designed to be preventative, efficient and to keep this train on track.

This grant of 6K is for the planning of a tour to include at least three New England venues. One has the option of presenting a showcase in the planning as part of the process but the showcase shouldn’t be overstated for a number of reasons. Ideally, it is designed to be something to which one can invite venues that would be part of the tour. And of course in most cases it would be the first iteration of a piece—not the case with Gravitational Fool—so we shall continue to hone our own unique reasons for doing this, some of which we’ve already unearthed.

Though in the presentation of a showcase we are open to ancillary elements (workshops, talk-backs) we must be very careful that the showcase be part of speeding our process and not become a cul de sac wherein we waste time and energy. We must remain efficient and precise and preservation of time and energy which both equal money. You said upon parting yesterday that you need to check that “presenting at schools” isn’t frowned upon by NEFA. Do that straight away!

Several red flags inevitably went up for me yesterday all on the theme of what we all can do for E.C. and what is a suggestively a disaffected student body; also, and this is because B is N’s boss, the meeting ended with him directing us to immediately jump through hoops to get stuff to Becca. Whoa Nelly. Cart Before Horse. I am sensitive to her being his boss, and I also see my way through that for Afterglow. First, WE must be clear: This showcase is about furthering GF’s development and, yes, in so doing, we are happy to interface with students, etc. But that can’t be our primary focus, even if it is Endicott’s. And I dare say that this sort of thing will need to be funded by them. 

The showcase itself will need to be ticketed in any case and we must go into it as a means of extending the lifeblood of the planning process, and I will work that out. Though we are not bound by the “artist fee” as per Adrienne: As mentioned, I am still keeping that amount earmarked as such: as remuneration for the artists in the “production” of a showcase. The rest of the money, which is NOT a lot (we have to keep reminding ourselves of that) will go to Afterglow’s planning of the tour and the administration, meetings, travel, promotion thereof. Every moment Afterglow puts into this is on the clock; so we want to be preventative of how long conversations are, how much time is spent on things that are not germane to this particular process which must be streamlined to work for us.

Remember, at risk of sounding like a broken record, Afterglow doesn’t spend time writing grants because we don’t have the bandwidth. Likewise, the work needed to be done in the execution of a grant received must also be afforded by said grant. That’s why ticketing will be important, we realize, in so far as AF’s take will continue to allow us to keep this process going until it takes off and becomes both artistically and financially fertile.

Again, not being alarmist but in the spirit of being surgical in this process, this is how we propose we proceed.  (Consider this my own workshop in Arts Administration entitled Horse Before Cart!

======

The thing about being confronted with a rage addict or to use the more colloquial term, and the perp’s own words, hothead, is that you second guess your own role in what goes down. Did I do something to make so and so so angry? He showed up and it was tense; and then he desperately apologized which was such a relief; he was holding a large tool box in one hand and buckets in another so he couldn’t prevent my hugging him, something I’m sure he had never experienced with a man before, probably not even his own son. He also apologized to S. and pressed the issue…you’re sure you accept my apology. Absoultely yes.

I was writing and sitting outside in the haze and was chatting simultaneously with high school friends Mike and Tony. I was musing about a boys weekend here on the Cape when S. came to announce she’s going to Toronto for several days at the end of June; so I impulsively swung that information into my conversations with these guys and they were like let’s do it—so they’ll come, along with two other friends, Dave and Ken, hopefully while she’s in Canada. Fun.

It felt like a day off though more of a derailing as, even though we were now okay, the run-in with the rageful really shook out some things. I think because I didn’t react it pressed a reset button on what would be my typical (outmoded) behavior in situations like this a/k/a father and/or authority issues. I feel different. I feel tired and sad and vulnerable but also real and unapologetic and strangely free.

After more than ones fair share of wine this Saturday night, what else to do but sing aroun the piano. I was deep into Baracuda and some other songs I’ve not sung before. I’m wistful about so much and yet I don’t feel at all as if the rug has been pulled out from under me. Typically this sensation is more bitter than sweet for me but not today and not this evening.

To view the original Sabian Symbol themed 2015 Cosmic Blague corresponding to this day: Flashback! The degree point of 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.

Woopsie

Scorpio 18° (November 10)

Power hypnotizes and power handcuffs. This is such a strange day politically. I am feeling stronger today than I did yesterday. A bit more sleep than the night before. I bit healthier feeling. Leftovers for lunch. Scorpions in a bowl. I don’t think anything will materialize this week, nor should it. I should be the biggest ever grownup in the room. I was perusing pictures of myself from just this past summer and I was seeing the return of my yoga body—also though I love my hair long, it really does overpower my small stature and erode any semblance of facial structure I might pretend to have. The freaking Republicans are enabling the orange toddler keeping a peaceful of transfer of power from happening. I think it’s going to get very ugly and I think Barr has been laying low because he has been plotting behind the scenes. Biden is playing the game, much like I am in my little word with my mini dictator, who has no power here and will soon learn the fact. I am using this as an opportunity to own my power. I have let people take it too much in the past. But I am not longer in that place. I will take a nap today, something I haven’t done in I can’t remember how long. Soon I won’t have to manufacture thoughts for this. They will be flowing through the work at hand. I wrote out a check to Ed Morehouse and put it in a Scorpio card that S. had in her desk. I will be losing the garden hose by this weekend. Thinking ahead it shouldn’t be all that difficult for us to renew stickers and I can always find a way to work that out. You have no idea what I’m talking about. Then again you’re not even reading this.

The following blocks of text are exceprts from my first year of  Blagues, nos. 1116-1120. I am reading through all of my Blagues, five per day, and posting some samples here. Now, in my sixth year of writing this Blague, by the time I get to my seventh, I will have journeyed through all the daily Blagues of my first five years. If that’s confusing I apologize. Year seven, I’ll only have to read through year six, once a day.

Drove up to Boston had hardly any traffic at all; and I dropped Stella on Newbury Street and made my way to Cambridge and parked in the hotel’s underground lot. It was only about 10AM still so I had to wait to get into my room—though not very long. Grabbed a bit of sushi for lunch and a beer and then took a nice nap because, for whatever reason, the insomnia is back. Was pretty well refreshed and was looking forward to meeting our friends Heather and Barry for a pre-show dinner at Waypoint in Cambridge. They are also sponsors of the festival so it was a nice opportunity to take them out and see the show together. Another friend, Gabriela, met us there.

Fauxnique really is one of the most spectacular performers and creatures on the planet. She really is so ridiculously good and unique. She dances on point, she changes looks before your eyes, she dances and lipsynchs and now sings so amazingly beautifull; and on top of everything else she is such a good person and such a good friend. We went back to Waypoint and I think the waitress was a little tipsy. Anyway, it felt a little like that. She was pretty effusive. It really was oodles of fun.

At some point this will all be a memory and I won’t have to worry about the quality of my content. Neither should I . All those years ago, in Nice, walking around, spending whole days on my own, having fun, going the rocky beach, wearing practically nothing, drinking beers from a man who passed by, making friendly connections. Going to dinner with a stranger, a missed connection I recall. I was too tired—remember when you were in your twenties and when you were tired you couldn’t push through—and I couldn’t show up for what would have been perhaps a date. Oh, well. Everything happens for a reason. That was Marc who worked at the Pas de Pot. I wonder if it’s still there. Or, indeed, if he still is. So many years of disease in between.

I don’t remember my Swedish friend’s name who was going to write me notes and postcard which he said he’d sign with a frog drawing, his signature stamp. Nothing ever came. No he’s just a no-color haircut, a vague shape in my memory. Square teeth. Flat stomach. That’s all I can, or probably should, recall.

========

Stella had appointments back on Newbury Street and I had a lazy morning and an early ridiculously fattening lunch and beer. I don’t know what’s wrong with me lately but I’m so gluttonous. I think it’s like denial that summer is basically here and I’m supposed to be a certain weight? Like I’m piling on a bunch of lbs as a sort of act of defiance. I have a feeling that all this chowing down is going to come back to bite me right in the giant belly. Needless to say, I was the passenger in the car today and was happy to arrive at Nan C.’s. It was just she and Vie and we had a blast. B. was away and he’s this great beer afficianando, now, and gets deliveries of craft beers, of which I never partake…but now, being on this beer binge, I had one of his tall cans. Honestly it made me more high than drunk and that was all I had all night long if you can believe it. I can’t.

We all four of us watched The Sound of Music and Vie had seen it before. Last summer I did a solo rendition of So Long, Farewell, sort of playing all the children at once, to entertain her when we were in Islesboro. I do love that house in Islesboro I must say. But even if they were to get it again from their friend (Kirstie Alley) we wouldn’t be able to go because we are off to Alaska and British Columbia. I am so super psyched about that you’ve no idea. Anyway we watched the movie and editorialized to our hearts’ content; and then I did a bit of a comedy act with my partner Siri, asking her all sorts of questions.

I asked her…Hey Siri, what color of your eyes? To which she responded: Quinn, I don’t have eyes, but if I did I’d be rolling them.

Went to Andover which is a magical place (not). It has that creepy sleepy nowhere Massachusetts town feeling. But there’s a Whole Foods of course, and we were making dinner for the larger arriving family. Chickens, Caesar, Rice, Veg. Nothing fancy. Of course we forgot a cake for S.’s mother because we don’t eat cake and never think in terms of cake—but we did buy two cases of wine for ourselves because we’re selfless.

It was a fairly easy day until a sudden arrival sent me down a spiral. I have a lot of trauma surrounding certain individuals and this guy is one of them. He doesn’t always trigger me—if I’m prepared—but nobody gave me a heads up so I reacted viscerally. But I managed to keep it together…ish.

The conversation turned toward Israel. Why? As we know it’s not an easy conversation to have but the number of Palestinians killed at the border these last few days might at least loosen the expected, usual rhetoric, but no. The combination of those organic reds I bought and the fatigue and a certain know it all tone and I was this side of losing it, literally, for argument’s sake. Oh well.

The elders are always fun. They are the best part in fact. They say really funny things that the only pretend have been blurted out innocently. Yeah. No.

These sorts of buildings, all grey and beige and greige, and the little-boxes-on-the-hillside feel just adds a generic flavor to the already suburban spookiness of the environment. Everybody is so close. All the “backyards” merge; and yet there is none of that neighborhood feel one had growing up in the suburbs in the seventies when kids were just let loose to wander and live or die. Even in Jersey City, before the great white witch exodus of 1972, we just went outside and came back when we felt that sinking feeling in our stomach that the sun was already setting.

Now it’s a world of play dates and kids otherwise living the way they did in and around Park Avenue, always; only now that isolated and by-appointment-only funtime is everywhere throughout the land. I suppose it’s worth not losing children to kidnappers and the like—no more milk cartoons out there are there? Then again…maybe sacrificing a few tots to the larger sense of freedom wasn’t so bad. I’m kidding; oh shut the ef up.

========

The topic is gluten a little bit to much for my taste today, but I smile and nod and agree we should try to back off it. I’ve been in this suburban land three days and now I must head to the North Shore as we have a meeting today at Endicott College. I worked a super good deal for a hotel we stayed in a year or so ago in Salem—the Merchant. It’s near the historic district and we love walking around and seeing the houses. It really is a best kept secret. As are some of the restaurants and surely the museum, which we’ll hit tomorrow morning. We tried to do something other than the obvious for lunch but realized we shouldn’t avoid it. So we went to Live Alive or whatever the place is called.

After buying some tarot cards and books at the Haus Witch we went for a number of strolls, taking breaks, back at the hotel in between, before setting off north to Beverly. It wasn’t very far at all. Something about the North Shore reminds me a bit of New Jersey and the area around Cannes at the same time. And the campus at Endicott was nice. We received a grant to produce a tour for Brian King and his band—of the show that premiered at Afterglow many moons ago. The meeting went well—the person at Endicott was really nice—and it was something quite unusual for me to do. I am not much of a visitor or outreach person despite the fact I produce and fundraise. That sounds ironic even to me.

The fact is I stay probably too much in my lane. In truth it’s all I have bandwidth to do. If anything I’m trying to figure out ways to limit multitasking while still hitting all my marks. I think I’m getting good at it. Anyway the conversation veered a bit and got a little cart before horse and by the end I felt like I was being tasked to do things I don’t want to do. Like share in Google chat. I share what I want when I want; but not in Google chat. I think what I learned today is that I am not only not a team player but I so don’t want to be. I felt a bit ambushed I must add, as the conversation was all about what we can do for the school, but I bided my time and let moments pass. Then, on leaving, Brian said something like I’m not sure we can do certain stuff with schools. (Which turned out to be true.) Now you tell me.

Anyway, S. was surprised that I wasn’t walking on air because on the surface the meeting seemed so positive, which it mostly was; but you know how certain people (Taurus people) assert their agenda through passivity, letting scenarios they’ve arranged play out, pretending guilelessness, well….I’m actually not sure Brian did this because he really does seem guileless and he is one of the kindest people I know. Still it’s sort of like letting other people hammer out whatever the issues might be. “I’m too important to be captured.” I wonder if anybody knows where that comes from. Well I’m not going to tell you.

Anyway, my mind was already arranging words into phrases to get the horse in front of the cart where it belong. But mainly I was thinking about food and wine (what else is new). We had plans to go to our favorite restaurant in Salem (and really the only one we know), this little Italian place (with a Serbian? chef…who used to work in Boston) called Firenze. The owner was in Seattle and it was a bit amateur night on the service; still we managed to find a decent wine and we had pastas for primi and a whole sea bass, kicking it old school. It was better than okay.

Our room was on the top floor of the hotel and was considered a suite; but it didn’t have any windows, just a skylite. But it had a giant soaking tub I was too tired to use until the morning.


To view the original Sabian Symbol themed 2015 Cosmic Blague corresponding to this day: Flashback! The degree point of 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.

Is It My Poem

Scorpio 17° (November 9)

I really felt like absolute crap this morning. The celebratory aspects are already being stolen from us. I am needing to rework my wording to fuckface because me thinks it needs to be made clear that we are not messing around. He needs to know we have law on our side. It’s like I have my own private Drumpf sometimes, which is just bloody awful. Anyway now is about building up and back strength. Not for giving into stresses. I am in the business of surprising myself and surpassing self-expectations. I find infinite joy in the notion of getting myself completely in the driver’s seat without the self-loathing and recriminations. Everything must go and so it will. All I need are a few signatures and a signed check. I will get some moolah out to Edward. It is the right thing to do. And now to continue to build my resolve. This is what the next few days will mainly be about: moving from recovery into restoration. It will all be fine; and it will be a fine time to tackle what needs to be tackled. I think I finally have the right ingredients in place. The trick is to let is all come from within and to stay super clear-headed. It won’t be the cinchiest thing in the world but it is quite doable. I need to take a major step back from all that is happening. It turns out we will have some lovely salmon cakes and then a cassava penne with anchovy, onion, parsley and tomato. I was meant to receive a delivery from Eastham but it didn’t come. It was nice to sit outside yet again and enjoy this amazing Indian summer. Watching the rest of series which have been my drugs, in televised form, these past several weeks. I have pushed my schedule, stretching it to the limit, and can’t get away with another day. Pushing it as I am. And I so want the feeling that comes from hitting my marks.

The following blocks of text are exceprts from my first year of  Blagues, nos. 1111-1115. I am reading through all of my Blagues, five per day, and posting some samples here. Now, in my sixth year of writing this Blague, by the time I get to my seventh, I will have journeyed through all the daily Blagues of my first five years. If that’s confusing I apologize. Year seven, I’ll only have to read through year six, once a day.

On this day, which would be a happy one, wherein our dear friend Matt was to marry his boyfriend Gilbert, we jumped in the car quite early and drove from Wellfleet to Greenpoint which I love even more than I have in the past. It was quite a nice trip and we got our head(s) together in the sense that we distilled what it is we were doing in such a way as not to require any outside help. Every once in a while it’s important to get as much a grip as one can on these things. I won’t say that my theme has deviated much as of late and I am determined not to continue down this actual rabbit hole. All of this sort of nonesense will soon come to an end. Anyway we stayed at this hotel that was okay. We were in a large suite in the basement the first night but it wasn’t very relaxing.

The party was fun and it was great to see Taylor and Vivian and Machine and Rachelle and other folks we haven’t seen in a while. Rizo was there too. As was her very pleasant baby daddy. Charming folks in all. And we danced and drank wine and chatted. I got to meet Carmine and Adrienne whom I’d really not met before. And Amber DJ’d. Part of me wondered why it is I don’t spend more time in NYC since I had built a life there for twenty years and so many folks I know are there. But that is one of the age old questions to which there is no simple answer.

The simple answer to any question always comes down to two things: diet and self love as ere the twain shall meet. I did manage to take a nice walk and a bunch of fun pictures and find a “blouse” to wear which would shatter the illusion that I’m not a big fat porker. Okay, maybe I’m not a big fat porker but I play one on a podcast (if I were to do a podcast) which isn’t on the list, really. I’m determined to break the spell or curse or whatever it is that is keeping me down.

Vivian has invited us to come and see her show at Joe’s Pub. I believe we shall see if it’s possible to do so.

========

Had quick coffee at Bakeri and then we were supposed to leave after meeting Emily and Joseph, who live across the street from the hotel, for brunch. We had inquired last evening if there was a room but were told they were fully booked. So over coffee we decided that if by some miracle there was a vacancy we would take it. There was a vacancy and we took it. We moved upstairs; it was a smaller room but I liked it so much better. Went to Label, where we were yesterday for lunch, and in came Robert who, of course, it turned out, is part owner. So we hung out a bit. He intimated he might want to open something in Wellfleet; and, frankly, I could be convinced to go in on something like that.

We took a lovely walk around town. It really is quite more expansive an area than I imagined. I don’t absolutely love Manhattan Avenue, but it soon, too, will be gentrified. One can tell. Crappy houses are in the millions. I don’t get life. We had a gorgeous snacky pricey meal at Alameda and had way too much time before we had to get to Joe’s Pub until suddenly we had no time at all to be at Joe’s Pub. We had ordered a car, which didn’t show up. And cabs were not to be found, as it was raining. One swung around the corner, dropping guests off at the hotel. So we took it and it was driven by a twenty-three year old Sikh who was actually born in America and wanted to join the army because this country had been so good to his Indian immigrant parents when they first came to this country. Sorry but this is what being American is all about. Not about some orange fuckface draft dodger. That shit has to go.

Got there to be the last in line. Slid right in. And synchronicity being the name of the game, Damian was at our table. Damian had just lost our friend Randy, which has been terribly sad; but it was wonderful that we were all together. Ray Rizzo was in the band though I didn’t get to hang out with him after. Spoke mainly to Viv and Elizabeth Koke and then the return version of the car that never showd up to begin with was waiting outside. It was another nice ride back over the bridge this time—we had taken the tunnel eariler. Needless to say, after two late drinky nights, I didn’t feel all that special in the morning; my nerves get shot with too much wine and no sleep and it’s not exactly conducive to driving on highways and bridges in aggressive traffice but that’s life.

Got back to the Cape in pretty good time and had a lovely evening…

========

We got to skip a day/date in writing, here because, given that the year is 365 days but only 360 degrees, every once in a while we catch up to ourselves doing a daily Blague. And when I say we I mean I. I have actually been speaking in the first person a lot lately perhaps too much. When I work with clients sometimes I use we to say you. But it’s sort of creeped in here. Which can be creepy

In thinking about what might be the new intros to the next year’s Haute Astrology, I think I will deconstruct them against the snapshots in Sextrology, and make them more evolutionary in spirit; in this way I might already be writing notes on the next book. It’s not a ground breaking thought but I thought it best to record it.

I’m in pretty good shape at this point I feel, when it comes to artistic projects and sort of keeping everything flowing in the right direction. It comes down to being prolific as best you can be, it truly does. Sometimes speed with writing especially can get you out of your head and just allow thoughts to flow straight down onto what looks like paper on the computer screen.

Whenever I travel I get really off piste with the Blague so I’m just going to let this be pretty unfunny or clever and just move on with my time. Although I will say this: That I at once feel a storm a brewing and also have my eye on the calm of its own eye. I definitely have a sense of being able to reel the energy, and the circumstance, in a bit at t his time. I really don’t have many good close friends in New York City anymore truth be told. I have some good acquaintances, though. And I have much to accomplish and connections are important no doubt.

Only a couple days on Cape before I pivet to the final performance of our series this year and a nice weekend away first with inlaws then to what is like a substitute to a spiritual home.

==========

A heavy client day today and meeting a new one. Our clients are always extraordinary and today shall prove no different. I am feeling the need at this point to get my energy clearer and more on point. My psychic-ness isn’t firing on all cylinders which is behind my ability to repair; however I notice that when I rid myself of excess toxins I am much more attuned; and my thick/juicy-ness isn’t all that compelling to the spirit I must add.

So we have decided to do a fifteenth anniversary, a crystal anniversary edition of Sextrology, which will be our thirtieth wedding anniversary which apparently is pearl. Could be really interesting to do some kind of re-launch. We shall see. I am inspired to be focusing on the world of design; and meeting up with our graphic artist, Emily, while in Greenpoint really got me thinking about product and the like. It’s time to get a bit entrepreneurial. As we like to say, now is later.

I am going to try to get back into working on some kind of solo show that I could do at some point in the foreseeable future. This new project and new grant are already quite time consuming, but I know that it will be worth it in the end. I will be able to create something of a new vaudeville circuit, at least that is the goal.

=======

Packing. Pivoting. Putting things aright.

My only hope is that the constant ringing

Spinning flinging

Is just part of the act and not the temple

To say not anything that circuits the mind

To climb directly onto the scaffolding with a series of pings

To see the sides shake from the inside

This is why I don’t come here often

It’s not about anything you have to know that

This is me soldiering on and through

If it were to win a prize would I be surprised

I would not.

To view the original Sabian Symbol themed 2015 Cosmic Blague corresponding to this day: Flashback! The degree point of 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.

Dimanche

Scorpio 16° (November 8)

It’s 333 in the morning and I cannot sleep. (Time passes). It is now almost 10 and I finally fell asleep around 5, I suppose. There was a whack job on social media I was debating with before I blocked their crazy ass:

You fail to realize that anybody who voted for the melted pile of circus peanuts this time (as opposed to last time) knows what kind of criminal he is on so many counts, how many dead, how many children separated, how many institutions gutted so it is more than a difference of opinions that divides the two voting blocks and it is the racism and the xenophobia and the misogyny and the ableism and all the other ills of American society that have to be addressed. But we don’t have to hand-hold those who are on the wrong side of history. If they want to live under a dictatorship we can give them a list of nations where they can go.

Yeah. beginning with your original post. like for instance who is gloating exactl;y? i’m looking around and i don’t see people gloating. I see people relieved and hopeful and recognizing a win for sanity, and end to daily barrage of lies and gasligting. it’s bad enough we have to take it from the right, but it upsets me even more when this sort of thing comes from the left because i actually am a progressive. Biden wasn’t my first choice in the primary but he won the bid for the Democratic ticket and so he got my vote. I happen to think he’s an empathetic man who works hard for the American people. That is my opinion. I do not think he is corrupt or that he exacerbates ills (that is your opinion). You don’t provide supporting evidence for that opinion you just make it. Just like you made accusations against me and others in this thread. That is a menacing thing to do ergo you are a menace.

The following blocks of text are exceprts from my first year of  Blagues, nos. 1106-1110. I am reading through all of my Blagues, five per day, and posting some samples here. Now, in my sixth year of writing this Blague, by the time I get to my seventh, I will have journeyed through all the daily Blagues of my first five years. If that’s confusing I apologize. Year seven, I’ll only have to read through year six, once a day.

Today has been a productive day but I am feeling my oats. That is to say that I don’t think I’m too old, afterall, to have spring fever in a big way. Speaking of oats: Must remember to make overnight version tonight as I am “off bread” and, for the next six days, especially, will be living on soup and sunlight. Thank you daily constitutionals by the raging atlantic sea which has actually only been fairly calm as of late. That will change. To live near the open ocean continues to be the goal. It has been a constant happiness.

The glory of this day is that I shall have a goodly amount of time to get things done; and will be fun to have a last Lambrusco night, before rest on Sunday and then a sobering week. My dreams are getting dark. And time will have a tendency to speed up. One must therefore do all in his power to stay on the side of light and health. Those dreams have a labyrinthian underbelly aspect, as if being perpetually in some kind of basement, deepest darkest subconcious where Mick Jagger in a hospital gown with a giant dick protruding and disembodied parapalygics, guts spilling out into their wheelchairs, are just some of the elements of this landscape, the colors of which are stereotypically black and darkest red. Dreams so horrific that they can’t help but spook you in waking life, making it feel like something sinister may be around the corner.

Caught the Hall of Fame inductions. Lauren Hill. I know but still. Lauren Hill. So glad I tuned in for the Nina Simone segment. Wow. All in all I am trying to see the progress and divine some clear paths, all of which should lead to sharing what we know about what we do and our gifts as performers and personalities for a greater good. Entertaining Enlightment™must remain one of our watchwords. I must challenge myself with this show this year or else I don’t know how I’ll feel particularly. I do need a new kind of sense of accomplishment, and although I know this may be had by upping my game across the board, in all I do, I feel the specific need to excel, singularly, in this one arena.

One must be one’s best friend to the fullest in exercising ones ability to be a friend from both angles. I know what I mean by that: As the giver and the receiver. Okay time to go.

=====

We didn’t quite make the right decision perhaps to walk barefoot with no jackets on yesterday but such is life: we were given a choice, when the wind suddenly changed to a light arctic, to turn back or brave it, happy to be able to walk on the flats and cross rivulets but at the same time courting Renads. We were sort of flagged down by a ranger who wanted to show us a plover egg. After straining with and without binoculars I just while lied that I saw it lying in sime kind of indent in the sand. Sorry but not sure I did.

I can feel the town of Wellfleet changing. I will reach out and connect to Harbor Stage folks and also the Preservational Hall here in town as I am curious about their programming and such. In all I just want to be connected to earth and sky this season, taking full advantage of time spent in nature, where, along with within, all the answers lie. Feeling a need to connect in similar way with community here; and as a rule my usual point of entry is through the stage door. That will be part of the m.o. beginning May 14 which marks our official return.

I was going to dive into new work today but my spidey sense says I should stick with the larger project at hand and not go off on too drastic a tangent. I had thought that certain deadlines were looming, but realized, as with most things, that they were invented. So I am instead just touching base these various projects to ensure they are on the right track; and then I can go back to the business at hand, which is writing next years twelve weekly horoscope books. It’s a time consuming project which has really taken hold with readers as of yet, but something urges me to write them as beautifully as I might; and to have them at the ready eariler than usual.

We head to New York first thing Friday morning and it will be a very long day of travel and night of socializing; and then a business-design meeting on Saturday morning, before a long drive back. It will be exhausting but it will be worth it to celebrate our friends’ nuptials. I managed to set up a meeting with the Harper Collins speaker’s bureau and have hopefully piqued the interest of a VP at a reputable radio outfit. Little by little we ascend. No climbing just elevation, if not levitation.

Did you ever see the Blake Edward’s film S.O.B.. It’s one of those films I’ve seen snippets of and always sensed, despite a sixty percentile Rotten Tomatoes ratings, would be good. Well, it’s kind of genius actually. There are a good many great moving parts. That sentence was intentional, and something you’ll just have to live with. Speaking of living, I am in the mind of living rather frugally (for reals but also) “on surprise”. And I do think this weekend will provide a bit of a reset, on many levels. I just want to show up and see what I find and be open to whatever comes. I also want to leave some time for shopping because Daddy needs some new threads.

Sometimes the realities, and even the so-called banalities of life provide some semblance of transcendence. I am self-denying in so many ways as to border on self-deprivation; this I know about myself. I am willing and able to allow my environment to become pared-down, and to accelerate this, as a process, by changing my clingy ways. The fact is I have hung on to physical things, that have have no purpose in my life, for ways too long; and it’s time to let go of such things and start to free myself from the consequences of the ties that bind of which I am not full cognizant.

=======

Baby seal on the beach today. Yes I admit privately I was worried it was sick or dying, but I had to go with “blissed out and sunning himself” so as not to alarm S. who was sick herself worrying about it—and anyway it was preening and yawning and didn’t seem stressed out or in distress, although it’s heart or breathing was making pretty rapid moves in its chest. Such is nature in any sense. And since I’ll never know I choose that it be happy and thriving and just in need of some sunshine. It was facing into it, like any determined sun bather.

One of my default “issues” I suppose we can call them is that: I never feel quite caught up, which is a terrible feeling. If I could afford to go and write everyday I would—and, again, I do because I do (at least) this Blague; not to mention delegate all the myriad tasks it takes just to be alive. Anyway, that is a theme that might need to be explored. I never really knew how to write a paper; senior year of high school I determined that I would be in honors-level english even though the year before I was in standard-level (the school had done away with the enriched-level I was in my first two years, and I’d been shuffled down to honors. My mother and I muscled my way into Mr. Mazza’s desirable honors english but I was so behind the eightball, as all these students had been in honors all four years. I didn’t know how to write a paper, while they had all been taught to do so; I got very average grades; however I did very well indeed on the AP test for college and thus got skipped out of freshman, college now, level where I would have again had a chance to learn composition. I never did and I spent four years dreading deadlines and falling short. It was only in the final semester of senior year that someone, a close friend of mine coincidentally, was called on to read their paper in class aloud as “exemplary” that I learned what teachers and professors had been looking for. She should regurgitated what all we learned in class. Oh lord, I had no idea that’s all we had to do. I thought we had to always find “something else” apart and beyond what we were being taught; to discover our own new slice of literary criticism. So I did not so great in college, mainly because I was constantly overachieving.

I’m ready to get beyond the thinking constantly that I’ve done something wrong. It really has become quite debilitating. Admittedly I do do a lot wrong. And who doesn’t? But I do quite a good deal correctly too. I just need to give myself a break and come down off all of it. That sense of dread and deadlines is so deadening. Right, that’s what I was going to say: I still live as if I have some paper due, on high alert, dreading and expecting to fail, even though there aren’t really circumstances instigating that feeling. I’m still dealing with symptoms of a cause that no longer exists. Well not utterly in that I am still a writer despite every attempt I have ever made not to be one.

I worked as an editor and a writer, I suppose, to keep retraumatizing myself with deadlines I suppose. I have always been immersed in words, it’s been one of my worlds. As a youngster, I didn’t much like science or math, especially, (now I’m, mainly philosophically, intrigued by them) because no teacher could ever why…why are we talking about x and y to begin with. What logic is this whole thing based on?Because they didn’t know. And history and language, English et al, were way more my speed. Especially English. I could diagram the biggest sentence you could throw at me with alarming ease. I loved language and had an erotic attachment to the semi-colon in particular. I loved myth and literature, where I felt history and language arts met. I loved all the symbology and metaphor and analagy and simile and I was also intrigued by literary signifiers, the i.e.s, the e.g.s, the sics and so forth. I thought of myself as a person of letters. When I went into magazines within a year of graduating university I became obsessed with the editors marks and the holy grail of that world, the blue pencil.

Being into books was part of the identity of being an ex-pat upon leaving school, and living in Paris one felt the need to emulate those who flanned the streets and sat in the same cafés a scant sixty years before we did in the mid-eighties. Technology was a thin line of light on the horizon; meanwhile we held tight to pencils, pens and notebooks we carried in leather briefcases that might also have a shoulder strap, which gave way at regular intervals as one clipped down wet cobblestone streets with sidewalks to narrow for two way pedestrial traffic.

===========

The zodiac is among the ancient systems in which we see a lot of wisdom and power. We have always had a fascination for such systems, as with panteons and the breadth of myth systmes including those of modern religions and the comparative dynamic therein; we also both grew up with psychics and astrologers in our lives; and astrology for us is a symbol system that is particularly alluring in that it is at once efficiently ordered and very confident as a system and also it’s rich symbology and imagery links directly to the myths we love so much, not only in the planets being named for the gods, but the symbolic estate of each sign being endless with imagery, totems, story, parrable. All of it our jam.

Starsky + Cox really are always all about the big questions.

Today was mean to be quite busy. It is a client call in day so we stay open. And we did have an appointment with clients (twin brothers) who aborted last minute. I did manage to make a foray into puttin next year’s horoscopes together and things are pretty much falling into place as best they can. I am a little backlogged on chores. And I have a pile up of notes and such needing sorting through.

I had this thought: What if we have it all backwards in terms of evolution and the species and we are actually at the bottom of the scale. I mean we are the only animal that can’t not live in captivity. We can’t survive in the elements. We eat anything not just what is in the “regular diet” of our species. We have addictions and create polution and are pretty much the reason for a great many diseases. Look at the other end of the spectrum, like the insects, for instance; imagine having a shiny green ectoskeleton and some fierce antennae that sensed things and the ability to fly. To me that sounds far more evolved.

I can’t tell if I’m the most or the least organized person on the planet. It has to be one of the two extremes. I do know that I have friends who seem to write a couple of novels a year; now that is rare I realize but they’re really good novels too; and I don’t seem to have whatever it takes to be that prolific. I try to hit all my marks but sometimes I feel I have too many, that I’m not focused, but scattered, rather; then again I think maybe I’m just someone who doesn’t put all his eggs in one basket.

I know it probably sounds paranoid but I can almost hear my liberties being narrowed; it makes me furious that the cheato in charge speaks for us when I feel completely opposite from him on all issues. I need this to be over soon-ish; it is a ruination. I jump to this because it relates to what I was saying earlier (yesterday?) about living on deadlines and the dread associated therewith. How come I didn’t feel unambitious when I spent my days watching videos and walking through the West Village or over to the Hudson to sun myself. How is it that I felt I then had all the time in the world. Wouldn’t that have been the time to hustle? In my late twenties, early thirties? Why do I feel I must do all my hustling now. Is the very reason because I didn’t do it then. I’m talking about the Clinton years, now. They were as unhurried as can be. I know I went for things. I created, I auditioned. I went to class. I wrote for magazines. I worked for fashion designers. I did PR. I started magazines. I worked as a field producer in television. It wasn’t like I was just sitting around. But I remember some summers being so slow and sleepy all day long.

There was that one particular summer. Maybe 96 or 97 not sure. I think the same year as Buffalo 66 and my writing for Detour and all of that. I remember we really didn’t have a sous; but I had worked out a deal to eat at Nine Jones restaurant in exchange for doing there PR which I did, best I could. I did the same at the Pearl Room. Not only did I never go hungry but I also never didn’t eat super well. But it was a drain, I must say. I mean, I was always having to hawk something. It was exhausting. It still is. Sometimes I feel quite lost. Like today. I look at people’s pictures on social media some days and I think how the hell can people party day in and day out and still have bone structure and be rocking some fashionable clothes. Two answers: hormones and Dr. Colbert.

Who me bitter? Never.

=========

I know a great many people born this day. It tends to be like that, don’t you find? I’m so grateful for the daily beach walks–omg I sound like a fucking broken record. I mean what the hell am I doing here if I’m only occasionally going to be brilliant. Do you think anybody gives a solid shit about what your day is like and how it includes “constitutionals?” Go fuck yourself, Quinn, really. You can do so much better than that.

To which I reply: What the fuck do you want from me? I’m trying to get at least three big projects off the ground while conducting a private consultancy with utmost clarity and professionalism, at the same time writing (in this case yearly) horoscope books and directing an entire performance festival and, you know, being alive without help for anything; actually I do most of the cooking and a lot of the cleaning and shopping in addition to painting whole rooms or otherwise making things functional and nice, just as my partner does in other ways, equally.

Life is Sisyphusian. I am a big Sisyphus. And though I always read the message of that myth to be just terrible and depressing, I now see it differently. I see it as expressing a very prominent aspect of life, a one step forward two steps back dynamic; which, let’s face it, is part and parcel of even the most productive and prolific of lives.

I’ve decided to paint the walls of my office an Hermes hue of dark orange. Suddenly I’m in love with dark orange again. And because the trim and doors are teal it will lend this real Howard Johnsonsy affect. Joey Arias is sober. Life was really quite sideways this week: The effect of putting things out there, throwing stuff at the proverbial wall; I’d forgotten how to do that. I love the construction I had. I think of Georg in The Sound of Music—”I’d forgotten”, music in the house? I think it was. It’s such a circular notion bringing in three time frames to say I had forgotten, as there was the middle time of forgetting a past but now we are beyond either one of those states of mind, further along the spiral, back to the same point further along the line.

========

It was in many ways a typical talk with folks at the publishers. Assistant was enthusiastic and effusive and we seemed in a positive direction, which we still are, but then suddenly we asked a question that the assitant couldn’t answer so suddenly somebody else chimes in “being late to the meeting” all apologies (meanwhile she’s got to know that we know that she’s damn well been there the whole time listening in). It’s rather a compliment, actually, when that happens—always good to ask a question only a SVP can answer. But there is always that one line of dialogue, that particularly publishing comment that either begins with “Unfortunately…” or is tucked half way through, after the comma, “, unfortunately…”. I think they teach a whole course sophomore year called: Unfortuantely 201.

Enough of that in my life actually, thank you. I reached out to our publishers, for whom we have made millions to discuss some possibilities; but they weren’t interested in speaking with us apparently. The world is venal. And it’s not going to get better with that fuckwad in office. It will get a lot worse before it even has a chance to improve. I’m thinking today that the plan D’s might be better plan A’s. I am too easily taken off my game perhaps but there must be a difference between throwing things at a wal hoping they’ll stick and beating your head against it.

Anyway, I know myself, and I will rally. But this time I think I really need to rally quite a lot. My life seems like a runaway train and I can’t stand that feeling. I know it’s up to me to make changes; I am just right now at a loss on how to do that. I hope this is helping someone feeling similarly they are not alone. There is no point of my getting on here every day to say something positive just for positive’s sake. Sometimes things feel weird and scary. My reveries have been nightmarish.

To view the original Sabian Symbol themed 2015 Cosmic Blague corresponding to this day: Flashback! The degree point of 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.

Samedi

Scorpio 15° (November 7)

When Biden won the primary I was truly pleased, even though he wasn’t my first choice. I don’t think anyone other than a moderate would have won this race. I’m not a moderate, to be clear. I made this point early on and I was called a rape apologist and blocked on this platform by someone in my literal town/community with whom I’ve been friendly for over a decade. I had urged the Bernie folks especially to immediately snap-to, and not do when many of his supporters did in 2016—write him in, vote for a third party, not vote at all—which, let’s just say, didn’t help Hillary with the electoral college. An even closer friend with whom I broke bread fairly often left me the most vile DM calling me every name in the book. My candidate didn’t get the nomination but I immediately got behind Biden and you know what? Had I really understood how tight this would be, I would have supported Biden from the beginning because, even though I loved and believed in my candidate, I don’t think that we would have avoided another four years of the creature made of Tang. So I’m here to say, I’m not only over the moon that we Dems won the general election, I’m saying I’m so glad that it is Joe Biden, an empath of the first order. He makes me proud to be an American, and don’t even get me started on Kamala, who was my second choice to win the primary in any case. 

The other half isn’t sidelined, because as Biden says he will be everybody’s president. I’m sorry but there is such a false equivalency here. He who must not be named purposefully dismantled our instititutions and, because it has no empathy and is a sociopath (and is a criminal as we will fully see now) he actually delighted in hurting people. People of color, the disabled, women, immigrants, war heroes…need I go on? So it isn’t a matter of “sides” or “tribes”. It is a case of an administration not only tapping into people’s worst inclinations (racism and xenophobia, chiefly) but fomenting these things; and then let’s ad in Qanon, conspiracy theories, rape cases, paying porn stars hush money with campagin funds, the list goes on and on and on and on—and how about treason? His entire entourage was jailed or is convicted. So what? I’m supposed “to feel” for the people that voted for this monster to spend another four years destroying democracy in our nation? No. I will not do that. Anybody who voted for that thing has to reckon with themselves. I’m not going to hand-hold them through understanding that the biggest joke has been on them. That the Thing doesn’t give a flying fig about them. He thinks they are stupid and malleable and he said so at the onset of this fiasco. He knew that there was a large part of the radical right wing that would be easily misled by his constant barrage of lies. I didn’t like George W. but he wasn’t an insane person. It would even be a stretch for me but I understand why people voted for him. I even understand how it is people voted for the Thing the first time. But after four years of devestation? Anybody who voted for the melted pile of circus peanuts has some ‘splaining to do. The hoods are off as they say.

The following blocks of text are exceprts from my first year of  Blagues, nos. 1101-1105. I am reading through all of my Blagues, five per day, and posting some samples here. Now, in my sixth year of writing this Blague, by the time I get to my seventh, I will have journeyed through all the daily Blagues of my first five years. If that’s confusing I apologize. Year seven, I’ll only have to read through year six, once a day.

Today came the realization of who should and should not be approached in our outreach with the design company. Bit by bit, piece by piece, it will be realized and it will be great; and we will get the dosh we need without jeopardizing any relationships that are truly priceless. Better to let the impersonal people who can support us pass into our orbit.

I’m super excited to be in NYC for MR’s wedding. I really do think it will be the event of the season. And it will be nice to see everyone all together. I am so keen to keep some kind of creative momentum going but I by rights and necessity must find increased flexibility. This really can be the best of summers if I let it be. I can feel healthy and be as fit as I might and I could put something rather beautiful up on its feet and be the last to say hello or goodbye this season. I truly feel that I owe it to myself. And I owe it to others to be closed-mouthed in the process. And that includes you, whoever you are.

Petty cash sticker on car sour cream send photos to desktop look up nature walks, hikes in Wellfleet. Re-teach myself backgammon.

I am so well aware today of my big picture and so grateful for the base circumstances that allows me to make my own schedule and live, quite frugally, by my wits which is way more important to me than having bigger pay checks that would have entailed being beholden to others.

Beltane, today, is the pinnacle of spring. It is all about fertility and conception. Bel is the Gaelic god of light, the bright one. Beltane was a good excuse to fuck who you wanted to as nobody blamed any lady who bore a baby nine months later. The trees associated with Beltane are hawthorn, birch and rowan. Hawthorn is one of the three trees of the Celtic Tree it is is highly magical. One decorates the Maypole with i—it signals sexuality. Birch is a female symbol which makes sense as you can see a female line and curve in it. Eostre (from whom the word Easter derives), the goddess of spring, is celebrated with birch. Maypoles were made of birch, as were brooms which play a part in Beltane rituals. Rowan is a tree of protection. The flowers of the rowan form a pentagram of sorts and they are used to keep the awakening fairies from having too much sway with we mortals.

We had our ritual of delicious draught and went to sleep very early. I sweat like mad all night but it was the kind of purge that felt right and necessary. I was quite happy it happened as it did. We had much ado this day and yet there was a strong sense of keep it all rather within our own desired reins. It is very easy to be organized and also can be simple to be creative, but one must strive only for happiness not for wealth, which is as much power as knowledge is of even success or acclaim. In that sense Aphrodite represents happiness in the Judgment of Paris, whilst Hera promises that combined wealth and power and Athena success and acclaim. Choosing happiness perhaps wasn’t to the Greeks what it is for me.

We are admittedly not going to take any short cuts this much is for sure. When have we ever, really. But boy oh boy do I want to open some kind of apothecary. I want to be a kitchen witch. I want to have products and talismans and all sorts of delicious things for people to buy. I want to have a reinvented version of Arcane bookshops and home decorating. We could have out of print books for sale at a high price. A place that appeals to the sophisticated witch—this is what I want. And I have the feeling that we can put the pieces together and get it!

===========

It was truly wonderful on the beach today. The forecast said 50s but it was really quite warm and for the second half of the hike I was down to a t-shirt. With the full moon, low tide was really low and the water was as calm as I’ve ever seen it at this usually raging surf beach. The thing about these walks is sometimes we solve every problem and talk, talk, talk. Either times, we walk in silence so soft and cushiony. It’s great either way.

I can’t believe we’re going to Alaska; it’s just nothing I would ever do, and surely the manner in which this will happen makes it that much more incredible. I pinch myself we have such good friends who treat us so well. Genuinely. But I do think of that line Max says in The Sound of Music, something like: “I like rich people; I like the way they live; I like the way I live when I’m with them.” It is a funny line really. And so true. Being around someone who is really rich can strangely enough be like being around someone who has an illness; you don’t much talk about it but it’s always there. Sometimes in caviar form. And sorry but: yum.

If I were loaded I know I’d be just like my good friends who are: generous to a fault. It’s quite a journey when Fortune strikes so strong and swiftly. I think of Juno as being Fortune; both S and our friend turns out have the same Juno paperweight from John Derian. Strange to type his name. He was one of my best friends once; or at least I thought he was. The sad thing is I suspect he wasn’t the entire time. I will turn seeds of our shared story into a story one of these days of this I”m sure. But first I have to get out of my own way. For all the writing, really. There truly is no excuse for my having written; though I have been writing here every day so what the fuck am I even talking about. I think what I mean to say is I have to use the same motor that drives me to write this into some bigger book projects very soon. Then again, maybe, that’s just where I am.

==============

I am totes sleeping weirdly. It’s not a deep fulfilling sleep. I need to wave a wee wand somehow. It was quite a morning actually. Delicious overnight oats with baked sliced apple and cinnamon. I stayed in the kitchen to make a black bean soup and we had b.l.a.t. salad for lunch. Got a ton done today by noon in between. Did a quick shop then back at it. Have all the fixins but for fish for Friday week. Love it. Preparing for our weekly meeting which got postponed from Monday. And updating our monthly minutes reveling in just how much has been accomplished thus far, even if just making the right inroads.

I’m actually a bit excited to get into the HA books tomorrow and work on the intros through the 20th when I focus mainly on turning out something sick to perform. I would like to draft something if possible by June 15 and then have a month to rehearse it before going off on holiday, again, I can’t believe it, to Alaska. And also Vancouver. The weird thing is—well not weird, this is the Cosmic Blague, after all—is S. might have a conference in Vancouver and we might fly some tiny plane to get there from some British Columbian isle. Timing is too good.

Confronting myself today in a big way, turning points times a thousand. The multiparodox of something big happening is that it usually coincides with other big things happening. As things heat up it’s that much more important to chill. And I need exercise so, even though it’s raining, the daily constitutionals must stand. Focus and simplify. That must be my motto moving forward, toirtose like, though I do make a great rabbit. Along with the wolf, I think, the rabbit has significance for the sign of Libra.

We had a fabulous meeting today in the loft. And I emerged with the overall theme of sheen, in a sense. Meaning a little bizzazz now seems necessary, a little revisionist fabulosity. By now many people have heard of Starsky + Cox and Sextrology and all that, but we haven’t been the best and making ourselves known, by choice. A private life after all is a good thing; I don’t want fortune or pain. I actually just want to double what I make now to be happy and I think it will be a challenge when I inevitably make more.

So if we were to double ebook sales and double our client base and double our private and charitable event intake, our speaking gigs. That’s it. Of course we have big projects from time to time on top of that, and collaborations, but really we don’t need them to have enough, the meaning of which keeps changing. I’ve said it before: I’ve been semi-retired since I started working at 14. Had ideas on the beach. Hitting home the counselor theme. And we have to start thinking of ourselves as broadcast gold. Which is our best clip?

========

To view the original Sabian Symbol themed 2015 Cosmic Blague corresponding to this day: Flashback! The degree point of 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.

Older posts Newer posts

© 2024 Cosmic Blague

Theme by Anders NorenUp ↑