Taurus 15° (May 4)
It’s Monday. May the Forthe be with you. George Lucas is a Taurus. I’m going to take ten minutes now just to get this day going, not sure what the content of it will entail. I am everywhere. I am in my past with the people I grew up with in the various places I did so; and I am so fortunate to say that there is such real love there. (It occurs to me to write to the Verms and give them what for; their actions are the only proof I have ever needed of the narcissism and superiority with which they were, and have been accused—I may write to the ex, the “stalker” accusation not withstanding. I really have to wonder what happened there. I was a stalwart friend when David was spinning down and losing his noodle and hiding from his wife and kids, talking to me on the phone, because he was drunk and scared that he was going to be uncovered. Whispering, he would tell me this. And now for some reason I am the one who is having to cajole some kind of response from him. I have written you back so many times. And still the last message i have from you is nine years ago. I have reached out to your sister and I think Madeline and one of your kids, maybe, over the years and nothing. One of the last time we spoke on the phone you were drunk and hiding in a room (from your kids and wife). I do not understand why it is you have been so nonresponsive all these years. I think maybe we spoke one more time by phone? I can’t even remember. Whatever it is I hope this note today finds you. I’m going to try another round of notes to your loved ones. Maybe you never understood fully that [redacted]. Anyway, I don’t know what to say. We continue to work and create and write and express ourselves. Writing you from a pandemic; for what it’s worth we are used to being alone (here by the beach) and writing in our offices and seeing clients virtually. Where the fuck are you David? It is heart-wrenching not to know. Maybe I can find the Giordano(s) and they’d have a clue? I’m at such a loss. But you know what folks: Being nearly five years younger, maybe he didn’t think of me like a brother so much as a bother, a pain in the ass. Or maybe he’s dead. Well probably not that because there would be some indication on his kid’s social media. I really don’t feel comfortable reaching out through his now ex or his kids, even though I suggested I might. The whole thing makes me rather emotional actually.
Oh well. One must recognize when one is being ignored, or in this case, discarded. I am so looking forward to a different kind of time, one via which, we can really see an uptick in prosperity. It ain’t going to be easy, that much is certain but if we can just make enough to refill the coffers and make a cool and humble profit, that would put us in the right stead for the rest of our days, the total sum of which, let’s face it, is getting smaller. I’m fairly sociable by nature. And, though I have butt heads with a great many people (because I deal head on with so many) there are casualties, that’s just the nature of the beast. And I no longer really give a flying fuck to be honest. Cancel Culture is Canceled, as far as I am concerned. I thought I would take just a quick and hopefully prolific ten minutes to get some thoughts down on virtual paper. I am extinction bursting as isn’t unexpected. It will be fine and I will slowly ween my way into a good place again with the exercise—it’s so hard to be motivated to do a daily practice on ones own. I could really benefit from some meditation at this juncture, too, me thinks. I know I have books on it. I’m tired of beating myself up and having all my issues invade my tissues as the saying goes. So it wasn’t a happy childhood; it wasn’t the worst probably, but not the best either. I always assumed my earliest sexual experience, ridiculously young as I was, and certainly a result of seduction, was quasi-consensual at the very least; but when you look at the resulting patterning and wiring one would think it began a whole helluva lot earlier than I previously considered. There is something about a cinderblock that I can’t quite understand. I’m trying to think who would have had access to me? A camp counselor? I get a flash of a hairy kid in a jockstrap in the shower. Some teenager that lived in the blocks of apartments where I spent my early life? I get a glimpse of this tall well dressed older man who lived in the building directly attached to mine, and I find myself in the basement of that building for some reason. I don’t think I’ll ever know, because if something is buried it is buried so very deep I know I’ll never unearth it. What I am aware of though, is the emotional abuse that stretches back to a time before I could speak; and the main culprit there is my only sibling from whom I’ve been estranged, now, some fifteen years or more. This day is getting off to a cheery start, isn’t it.
Well it is (as they say) what it is. I don’t like that expression and never have. I think the trick is to really stop caring about things like: If I don’t text my friends, I would never hear from them. I am truly tired of being the one who reaches out. And I’m shutting that shit down. I need to save my strength for self interest and any number of happy acquaintanceships. Clearly, I am not good at the close bonds, other than the main one. I am so hard on myself and not hard enough on other people (until I am way too hard, punishing them for being withholding). This is the theme I’ve been dealing with since playing with my Barrel of Monkeys in my crib. And exactly why was I allowed to have a bunch of small plastic items to play with in my crib. One has to wonder. I will do my best today, but I won’t hit the marks I thought I would. In basic news I’m going to get my old Mercedes fixed this week, and we ordered some outdoor furniture to make that environment nice and inviting. I wonder if we should have shopped other places but it’s kind of too late for that now. Anyway I’m going to move on to some other projects and recalibrate my schedule for the day. I’d like to get outside at some point today and I think that should actually be a priority.
The following blocks of texs are exceprts from my first year of Blagues, nos. 221-225 I am reading through all my Blagues, five per day, and posting some samples here. Now, in my sixth year of writing this Blague, but the time I get to my seventh, I will have through all the daily Blagues of my first five years. If that’s confusing I apologize:
The five Blagues I read from the past didn’t yield a single word to paste in here!
To view the original Sabian Symbol themed 2015 Cosmic Blague corresponding to this day: Flashback! The degree pointof the Sabian Symbol may at times be one degree higher than the one listed here. The Blague portrays the starting degree of for this day ( 0°, for instance), as I typically post in the morning, while the Sabian number corresponds to the end point (1°) of that same 0°-1° period. There are 360 degrees spread over 365/6 days per year—so they nearly, but not exactly, correlate.
Typos happen. I don’t have a proofreader. And I like to just write, post and go!
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