Taurus 9° (April 28)
I’m fairly obsessed with the actress Elizabeth Patterson, who was Mrs. Trumbell on I Love Lucy. She was born in 1874—her father was a confederate general. She never married and lived for thirty-five years in the Roosevelt Hollywood Hotel. Or is it the Hollywood Roosevelt hotel. Little matter. I have made no secret of the fact that I could live in a hotel. Somewhere in my story telling is the day we met Hume Cronyn. I will search for it in this Blague and hopefully it will pop up. I’m not sure how much I am actually accomplishing today, yet. I might just have to read a book and do the minimum. This remains to be seen. The printer in my office doesn’t work and still it sits there. I will take it to the basement to become part of a work of art. My idea (has long been) to create a series of installations that I then video and photograph before taking them to the dump. And yet the stuff I need to do close at hand today continues to elude me. I will get to it I swear. But most likely not until after lunch. I’m already starving. The day is not the day I had designed it to be, so I am now in a process of rethinking. I have red a good deal of my book which is surely something I needed to do. I will give myself another couple of hours to enter the project and then I will work on it for just as long. I reached out to my friend Damon, who is something of a sorcerer, for some direction on deepening my personal process in all of this. He spoke of lucid dreaming and of pendulums. I recounted my experience in these areas. I am still fighting this unseen enemy, rooting it out wherever it attacks. I am experimenting with oils of my own divining. I know my destiny lies in the direction of herbs. I am experimenting with oils which I hope will affect some change. We shall see. The best thing I can do for myself today is to back off and live to fight another day. We have decided to make the coming month Mindful May, which should help put a different spin on yet another thirty plus days in isolation.
Whatever this thing is it isn’t getting better. And it’s not like I can just pop into a practitioner’s office. So either it heals, pretty darn quick, or else I’m going to have to brave some kind of situation one wants to avoid during an epidemic. I have the most ironic condition on the planet. Anyway, I didn’t get my whole mojo going, and I am concerned with all this isolation and the silence growing louder in my mind. Which is why I’ve decided to take control and make this work somehow. There is no reason to feel in the least panicky, although it is funny how isolation can make one feel, ironically, claustrophic. The naivete of Christmas past, the ridiculous sadness of a burst dream woven by the dead who bore me. Pose must be poetic. I love the feel of such things, language carefully but simply draped like the dress of a goddess. Elegance falling to gravity. As a myth head, I enjoy seeing all my favorite characters come to life. In forty-five minutes my writer’s block is scheduled to officially end. And it way do so at the blackboard. I must sneak in. Think how good it will feel. And so you might say I am already there. So much headway is always being made. I want to love each and every one of you. I want to write my show and make my music. We will do a Christmas show this year and maybe we can perform virtually, if not in person. I wouldn’t doubt it. There is time, too, for all peace-giving miscellany. I’m glad we didn’t put everything into an event business. I’ve always sought to contextualize, just as I urge forward with new creation. I feel that the breadth of my experience(s) will some day amount to something big. It’s all about that timeline.
So let’s see. The morning was fairly Zen and I read a bit, cleaned and prepped the kitchen. I will do more of this in the next two hours. The fact is I’ve gotten myself into a pickle and it’s silly. I have to have a complete seminar with myself tomorrow. Weird that one can’t pop out for a stroll or libation—I got so happily used to that, along with having no excuse not to go to yoga, since it was right around the corner. I was going every day, and was actually on day twenty-four of thirty-day challenge. I must send a photo to Lauten. We are building our fortune and dynasty, still, at a point where many of our contemporaries might have already rung some major bells; that said, we were among the first folks I know to buy a house, and live, by the beach, doing so at the age of thirty-five, which is pretty damned good; and truth be told we’ve never had to live in a city again; choosing instead to city shop, as we have done year on year, trying on L.A. and the high desert, and Boston; and Paris and London, with European side-trips, since leaving New York (which also makes this list, still) full-stop in the mid aughts. I really am so very much driven to distraction. It is sort of my beat. I am going to make this work. So one will wake up tomorrow and immediately go upstairs and start writing out the answers to the set of questions I will create to make the project move along, now at a clip.
The following blocks of texs are exceprts from my first year of Blagues, nos. 191-195 I am reading through all my Blagues, five per day, and posting some samples here. Now, in my sixth year of writing this Blague, but the time I get to my seventh, I will have through all the daily Blagues of my first five years. If that’s confusing I apologize:
I have had moments in creation where I have felt that direct connection to the Muses and have had it last for months or even a year or so on end. Recipe for madness as well as strokes of genius. And maybe the reason I haven’t created any, say, solo performance work to speak of as of yet, or written any full songs for that matter (i have reams of half-written ditties) is because I haven’t creatively visualized and fully conceived—gotta love that word in this context—that which I want to express. Now, Virgo is the Virgin after all i.e. she is designed to conceive. The sign rules digestion as well as gestation. So maybe I need to get into emotionally-intelligently hatching an idea from visualization to execution. Sounds so simple. Yeah right. Again, I’m more a flash of ideas and then a jumping into the deep end of creativity without quite knowing how to swim sort of creative, opening channels to inspiration; I suppose I’ve always considered ultimate conception of creative vision to be a bit, well, too thought-out. Then again, maybe that’s why I don’t have a very large body of work. Food for thought. Must have been a Virgo who invented that phrase.
To view the original Sabian Symbol themed 2015 Cosmic Blague corresponding to this day: Flashback! The degree pointof the Sabian Symbol may at times be one degree higher than the one listed here. The Blague portrays the starting degree of for this day ( 0°, for instance), as I typically post in the morning, while the Sabian number corresponds to the end point (1°) of that same 0°-1° period. There are 360 degrees spread over 365/6 days per year—so they nearly, but not exactly, correlate.
Typos happen. I don’t have a proofreader. And I like to just write, post and go!
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