Capricorn 2° (December 23)

Well I made it all the way two 2:00 o’clock in the morning after falling asleep at 10. So here I am up again but I can’t afford to be tired today and must power through and get my marks hit. Been really loving the show better things it’s pretty genius and I’m all up to date on every bit of busywork . Heard back from our council which is great and that could just rest for awhile. Getting a jump on the holiday cooking . Grateful I don’t have to do the shopping. And I am going to just get as many words down on paper as I can today and freestyle the rest of it. I did start the process of getting words down and then I had to stop and make some lunch and I needed to print out some pages and get the chapters that I’ve already written into a more organized state. The groceries had to be unpacked and I planned the menu for the weekend for Christmas dinner specifically . I’ve decided to make a different kind of potato then I usually make which should be delicious. I do have a great many ideas that I think just need to be funneled and I’ll eventually catch up with myself between today and tomorrow that is the plan in any case so I came across them old photos in the basement which will make for interesting posts and they also found some old sheet music which might be interesting starting to see how all these categories come into play which is good at I will start the process of throwing things away evenings and packing books up into various categories it can be stored pretty easily for the time being I don’t know how long we’ll have here obviously but I’m going to try and get through to next year we possibly can that would be the goal in any case so they will just have to sort it out OK so I’ve screenshot my recipes and I’m all ready to go For Christmas day that just leaves between now and Christmas Eve where I don’t have to be in the kitchen to get a real jump on pages tomorrow needs to be all about quantity I’ve been front loading quality And that’s been the right thing to do but now I can listen up and just kind of say anything I also wanted to communicate how ******* sick of this year I am both Stella tenant and Rebecca Luker died today which really freaks me out. I went through more boxes in the basement to sort of survey the landscape and discover one whole giant box which is perfect for dishes it was just filled with old show posters so that’s all getting out . Ask went through all bunch of newspaper clippings to get rid of the bulk of the paper so that also feels quite productive I think it’s going to be a relatively easy thing just slowly put things into boxes and it should feel rather cathartic to take off the top layer and then once we know how much time we have to figure out the rest of it Meanwhile I got poo to do yo. 

The following blocks of text are exceprts from my first year of  Blagues, nos. 1331-1335. 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.

Got home yesterday. Here for a total of forty-eight hours. Totes bushed. We escaped Connecticut and stopped at Olga’s for lunch in Providence. Weather still crappy. Just making some quick stops to get some sustenance in house. Otherwise, I’m going to post some more past musings on the Sabian Symbols and what stories they have triggered. Consider this a fortnight of reruns.

4° Aries is characterized by the Sabian Symbol Two Lovers Strolling Through a Secluded Walk and for some reason I find very little interpretation of this from outside sources; which is probably a good thing because I’m feeling the need, today, to remove the training wheels and to employ my own spidey sense, meditating on these symbols, to come up with my unadulterated interpretations. My strongest inkling about this symbol is a sense of repair and of promise. I believe that the lovers can represent the part of ourselves that longs for a flesh-and-blood other; but I think the imagery also points to a would-be love of self. In the zodiac there is the astrological first house of self and the seventh house of other; and we are bound to look up the house of other not only as it relates to another person, but also to one’s own personality, and the development of our character, in all senses of that word.

To me, the process of knowing oneself is accelerated in our significant one-on-one relationships. Those with whom we partner can be a mirror, or sometimes they can represent parts of ourselves, qualities, which we feel we lack. The adage that “wherever you go there you are” is brought into sharpest relief when we are faced with the constant presence of another invested party. We can actually avoid ourselves and our own issues more readily in solitutde. In isolation, we aren’t necessarily reminded if or when we’re being irresponsible to ourselves. On the flipside, we do tend to bring our best selves to relationships with someone significant. As an evolution from 3° Aries, where we are part of, representative, of a group, collective or community, here we bond with a like-mind, a kindred-spirit. Perhaps we’ve singled out from the group someone we wish to pull away for a walk down a secluded lane, just we two, away from the rest. Whom would we do that with? Probably someone whom we feel is most like ourselves. So this symbol and, by extension, the perceived energy of this day, might be about recognizing our self in an other. In 3° we aimed to see our own personal divinity as being part of the larger divine—our Atman in the Brahman. Here we recognize the divinity, the likeness, the kind-red spirit in a fellow or a lover. And our ability to walk the same peaceful path.

But let’s again consider the figures as two parts of our one self, first, from the perspective of masculine and feminine energies. We are all walking-talking yin and yangs. A man has a feminine anima, a woman a masculine animus, trans or third gender people, perhaps, have it all together. We don’t want these energies to be polarized, we want them to be integral to our experience, moving us in the same direction. This is true not only of the masculine-feminine dialectic within us, but of any so-called opposite feelings or forces. We don’t want disassociation of self on any level. We want to be honest with ourselves and to find unity, harmony, literal integrity, especially wherever there might be internal division or schism. We want to have a good talking with ourselves. In fact we want a private inner dialogue going on all the time. We want to be honest with ourselves. We want to confide in ourselves. For, is that not the true definition of confidence?

If we see two people, presumed lovers in particular, strolling down a secluded path we might suspect they’re seeking to share some form of intimacy, sexual or otherwise. We sense they want to be alone. Perhaps they have something secret to discuss—the walkway is isolated for that very reason—they might need to hash out a problem, confront one another, and seek repair. There is always something to repair in life, with others and within ourselves. I promised I wouldn’t do this but I do see this Aries 4° as being akin, in many ways, to the fourth sign of the zodiac, Cancer, cardinal-water, associated with flood myths, the most famous of which involves (re)pairing animals two by two and putting them on an ark (synonymous for promise) and sending them on a journey toward deliverance, in reparation of a spoiled, broken world/experience. Perhaps these lovers on their path are making a promise to one another. Maybe that is the upshot to whatever subject they needed to privately discuss. If the goal was repair, the promise might be never again to do whatever caused the rift or damage. Perhaps the promise is one of deeper commitment, the seclusion providing the perfect setting to propose a marriage of sorts, or some new covenant, marrying intension, determination, goals, purpose. If the lovers are symbols of parts of our one self in conflict, would we not make a promise, a pact, with to ourself to do things differently moving forward on our life path? The two individuals might be our lower case self and our higher Self or power. Cue that song from Carousel.

I just perused a list of famous people born this day and it’s not a day of very showy Aries people. Indeed, those born this day seem uncharacteristic of the sign. Even the few super famous figures are distinguished as being rather retiring and private people. I will venture to say that I feel today has the energy of a time out, when we have a wee off-site meeting with ourself to regain our inner harmony and equilibrium. We might understand on this day that the most important relationshiop we have is that with ourself and we are taking time and space to get ourself together, examining where it is we might be coming apart, and making the necessary reparations to feel whole. Yes we recognize that we are made up of polarities, that we have two sides to our brain and to our personality and that they work better, and are larger than the sum of their parts, when we blend them into a singular Self. We are always/never alone. Wherever we go, there we are.

Finally Christmas day has arrived and I will make some shirred eggs which will gross everybody out because they will strike them as too wet to be properly cooked or edible. That’s okay, I’m making them anyway—after an embarrassment of gifts being opened. My goal today is to have a Jewish Christmas so we are checking into a hotel suite and walking from Back Bay to Brookline to see The Favourite at Coolidge Corner. It will be packed. We have reservations at a Japanese place but I truly want Chinese. We will also pass by what looks like a promising Thai restaurant. I thought the performances in The Favourite were all very good; but I didn’t love the movie in the end. It was like Peter Greenaway L.I.T.E. And it didn’t stick with me. Tant pis. The Japanese restaurant was a joke—rude and dismissive atmospehre—and we left. The Thai restaurant was dizzzzgustingly dirty. So we started walking back toward Boston, figuring we’d pass the Chinese restaurant that gets good reviews. It was packed and we waited fifteen mintutes just to talk to the “hos”t, during which time we decided to get takeaway. The “host” tried for that entire time to run one credit card that wouldn’t run; meanwhile the rest of us were a gaggle of people who had checked in and were waiting to be seated; people walking in off the street; people waiting for takeaway; and those wanting to put their name in for a table. And everyone was unempathetic and rude and pushy and randomly asking strangers (us) what the hold up was as if we knew. Oy. Finally I said to the “host” can you attend to other things beside that one card and your huffing and puffing? We just want takeaway. Oh that will be an hour wait. Fuck this. We stormed out.

Now we had had a reservation for a fancy Christmas dinner at La Voile a serviceable French restaurant on Newbury Street, originally, for 5PM that day which we canceled to celebrate the Jewish Christmas idea which bombed. We called them. They said they could put us at the bar. We hopped a cab. What they didn’t tell us by phone was that they were closing then in fifteen minutes. We casually sauntered in and were stuck in a corner at the bar up against a two-top down below, behind us whose faces were competing with our coats for air space. The bartender moved us to high table, in the bar, instead and said we should get our order in since the kitchen was closing. What? Wow, just in time. We ordered a beautiful red and some soups and salad (if foie gras fringed with greens can be considered a salad). Anyway it was delicious. I had chestnut soup on Christmas day and it was infused with truffle and the true spirit of the day. Fuck Jew Christmas followed by Chinks. I have never been so happy to be a lapsed gentile than at this very moment. Singing Silent Night silently and in French in my brain, I was definitely going to draw out this experience and so ordered dessert. I thought doing Jew Christmas would feel so anonymous and sneaky, but duh: Brookline was packed with god’s chosen all scrambling for tables with prepackaged chop sticks. Meanwhile, here on Newbury Street, it was a sparkling ghostland at the early end of eight PM as the closing of this, one of the only restaurants in town to be open on Christmas, and thus it was here I found that feeling I was chasing. It wouldn’t have happened at 5PM in the place. But it was accidentally happening now; and so after a chocolate confection and single espressi, we only had three or four blocks to walk back to our awaiting suite and sleep.

La Stell had a series of appointments in the hood and then went to see the Nutcracker today so I am catching up on a little writing, including this. I’m making a great many contacts and will connect, about Brian, with Greg and Kline and Smith. I will rant about terrorism and my fears will be given rise. That’s really all I can say about all that except for the fact that the shower in this suite isn’t working properly and the maintenance guy will walk in without asking even though I have the Do Not Disturb sign on. Anyway, I was given a key to shower in another room while they filled ours with Draino. I will go to Eataly and get some delicious La Stoppa. Stella brought me back dinner from Meyers & Chang = hooray. I will fall asleep by 7 PM. It has been an exhausting two weeks of travel and intrigue. I will return to inserting some musings on the Sabian Symbols from the past a/k/a “reruns”:

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.

Capricorn 1° (December 22)

OK so that was a funny night and yesterday was fantastic because and I can’t believe I didn’t write about this yesterday but our we sat and did a tiny little meditation ritual for the conjunction and yeah following up on what I said yesterday started a really kind of a good energy in a sense which is ironic because I actually didn’t wake well I fell asleep early ish watching that Keith haring American Masters and then I woke up at 1:00 o’clock in the morning and not only did I know I couldn’t get back to sleep but I kind of didn’t wanna go back to sleep and so I watch the Pamela adlon show which was really great but the point is I never went back to sleep so I watched the Pamela adlon show I watched the whole first season and then 45 episodes of the second season so yeah that happened and then I was like Oh well you know kind of figure out my day and then stello it’s like remember we do have a client and did forget actually um parked whenever we have client day they always have to make the client activity the most important thing so here I was thinking I was going to like you know figure out a way to sleep in the day and do some writing that was already going to be challenging enough but with food preparation and all the things that we have to do now that we’re in our little individual spaceships floating around but now I did I watched the entire program and then I just made my peace with the fact that like I’m gonna give over to the client and I did kind of mini hour 40 minute meditation on my own to sort of like balance out my energies and that was really pretty godamn great 

Is an Aries whose motto is I am the most challenged at simply being they do need a lot of attention delete do need an audience but it’s different from tourist horses cultivating an audience Ares is coming at you tourist is taking you along with or even going with you strange enough 

I feel like what we don’t talk enough about is this whole onslaught weather by laptop or phone booth which are probably not even probably most definitely listening to you because like suddenly you’re like you know Reuben sandwich and then it’s like we have the best Russian dressing and sauerkraut and Rye bread for you but also just these horrible like China 19 count on messages Chinese people or the ones that are like you better your Social Security card is you have to contact us immediately take Oh my God like Pelican I got one of those like in a video game or something like constantly these obstacles like or I’m like having to constantly not respond act you’ve ever accidentally opened something just because like you know your hand is just like this past and yeah but I like the ones where they send you your own email address like you’re getting email from yourself like why would you click on email from yourself first of all but like are they trying to like trigger like a narcissistic impulse like hoe that’s me did I ever contact me well that’s certainly enough too.

The following blocks of text are exceprts from my first year of  Blagues, nos. 1326-1330. 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.

Open Sleigh is the name of the show we are performing tonight at Joe’s Pub. We aren’t really rehearsing this morning because last night got a bit messy. Exhausted, I fell asleep at like 7 or something and did miraculously wake up feeling rather rested. The vibe, though, wasn’t conducive to plowing into one last rehearsal; rather it was all about backing off and, in our separate corners, coaching ourselves to bring the best work we can to the stage individually. Unlike when you do solo work, you have a responsibility to a partner on stage; and when a piece is largely improvisational (just following certain guidelines in your separate mind) one only hopes that the direction the discourse will carry you will be flowy and/or jazzy or both, at turns. Anyway…we shall see what we shall see. Meanwhile the Blague reruns continue…

Okay, so, the Sabian Symbols. I can’t say they were invented, but rather perceived by a Libran astrologist by the name of Marc Edmund Jones (1888-1980) with the help of a clairvoyant called Elsie Wheeler. Stella and I first came across Jones in our formal astrological study through the London Faculty, but he’s an American, from St. Louis. To paraphrase that substitute for our own brain we call Wikipedia: Jones was interested in formulations he observed in nature and in the environment—as a fellow pattern queen, I totally relate—and he developed his own systems of thought. He was influenced by Christian Science and Theosophy (me too—the latter not the former) and set out to reformulate astrology. He devised the seven (Libra number) patterns in astrological chart interpretation we use everyday—and he published The Sabian Symbols in Astrology, “a book that renders a specific symbol and interpretive character for each of the 360° of the zodiac” and then, of course, he’s a Libra renaissance man, he wrote screenplays for early movies, became a Presbyterian minister and got his PhD from Columbia. You know, as you do.

So the Sabian Symbols: It’s fairly esoteric stuff. But here it is in a nutshell. There already existed a symbol system, associated with astrologer Alan Leo, that derived from occult divination, via meditation, and “intermediaries” (ooh, scary) working with an early Egyptian schema, from which the zodiac is originally based. If you didn’t follow that it doesn’t matter. Jones wasn’t into that existing system. So he and Elsie Wheeler, who had become his student and turned out to be pretty wildly mediumistic, headed to San Diego for energetic reasons—okay‑and he basically numbered 360 index cards, one for each degree of the zodiac, from Aries 1° through Pisces 30°, and kept shuffling them so neither he nor Elsie actually knew which was which when they were set before them; and she got pictoral interpretations via her spidey sense and they wrote them on the card. I think it all happened in a day. I hope you’re getting this…

Each degree on the astrological wheel was thus assigned an interpretation. For instance, the interpretation for today, 0-1 degree Aries is: “A Woman Just Risen from The Sea; A Seal is Embracing Her”. Seriously, that’s it. And, actually, this one I get (and to think Elsie didn’t know that this was 0-1° Aries is totes cool; because we have just left the mega watery womb of the sign of Pisces, ruled by Neptune, whose trident is that of the Great Triple Goddess of the Sea, and “emerged” into the sign of Aries, associated with birth and life, a pretty bloody affair—Aries rules the blood, governed by Mars, the war god, life being the ultimate fight. And, so, okay, this Sabian Symbol suggests that the energy of this day is about the birth of the new—something real, tangible, perhaps even if just a thought or emotion. And there’s that seal. I immediately hear Donovan’s “Celia of the Seals”. From what I know, seals are symbolic of inner guidance, privacy, insulation and protection—they are slippery and don’t like to be pinned down— while they are also emblematic of an amorous nature, as this animal is fervently driven on that score. This makes sense too: The sign of Aries is about individuality and being true, if not just plain old keeping, to oneself; and of course, Mars ruled Aries is about lust and libido, as well. I read somewhere that the seal was also approval. But I find that just too punny for words.

If I were to embrace the noble lie that the Sabian Symbols are “true”, which I’m going to do, for the most part, for the purposes of this year-long exercise, to see what doors of perception doing so might open, then my own Libran psychic take on this image would be thus: Today is a day of emergency. We are stepping into a new life, dripping from our past experience, perhaps, even refreshed by it. So much so that we needn’t go back. We must seek to stand on solid ground today; we must be delivered from the murkiness of our past experience, having let any primordial soupiness formed a new directive. On this day, we are one with a new mission—tell me about it—and we are reminded by the seal, who does indeed inhabit both the inner (water) and outer (land) worlds, that we can go forth “trailing clouds of glory”; for, yes, the water can also symbolize our original state of divine being which we mustn’t lose in our earthly pursuits. I find it wonderfully paradoxical, too, that the first moment of Aries, the premier masculine sign, is mainly characterized by the female experience. But that has some pretty primal significance too, as all life begins as female, doesn’t it? And we all come from the mother. Perhaps, we are more that seal, slippery and heavy lidded, fresh from the womb. Perhaps we are clumsier on land than we are in the sea. That is to say, we are bound to stumble and make mistakes in our terrestrial endeavors, a bit out of water—we aren’t from here per se, and we inhabit this planet but for awhile, bound to return to the sea of vast divinity. And hopefully we can avoid being clobbered and skinned alive by stupid, venal, brutish people driven by profit and greed. So maybe today we are meant to reflect upon and embody these thoughts. Just as we enjoy a more banal understanding that we have just emerged from winter and we can let ourselves be, like the season, fresh and new, full of promise and burgeoning growth. Are the notions of emerging from some divine womb or our winter cache really so dissimilar. Is winter not better viewed as a time that incubated us anew, rather than something we were dragged through. What was bred in us this winter that we can now activiate, what purpose can we now personify? Is getting where we want to go not generated from a deeper sense of coming from somewhere utterly divine. If we can embrace our own divinity, would that help us seal the deal of fulfilling our worldly destiny. Are we not the intersection of the inner and outer world made manifest—are we perhaps the seal that can open between the two.

I can do this all day. And in fact I have, off and on. I’m wont to explore how people born on this day might personify this particular Sabian Symbol. But Facebook tells me I don’t know many people born on this day. In any case that provides me an excuse not to compare and contrast the humans in my life with my own interpretation of this symbol. I certainly don’t have an extra Birthday Book hanging about, so I will have to let this one-sided dualogue of a conversation dangle. Maybe you have people close to you born on this day and you can draw comparisons between them and “A Woman Just Risen from The Sea; A Seal is Embracing Her”. I have to go rethink my own purpose I’ve emerged with on this first full day of Spring. I suspect it might entail saying a lot less per day about Sabian Symbols in these posts and to make sure I get to some storytelling on the vast subject of what I find to be weirdly synchronic and cosmically jokey about this life.

So last night went really well. We had a decent (not huge but…) audience of over seventy folks. And the show went around ninety minutes so people got a nice big chunk of us. And then we met those who were to be met, upstairs, at the Library, which was super fun. Lots of good Aquarian energy in the room I must say. I was absolutely floored by some of the folks—Robby L. and Frankie F among them; Frankie really dug in with us for the remainder of the evening and she was so super funny; so much so that it lent to a comedic retelling later. Anyway I continue my remembrances:

I have to say I’m pretty darned happy to discover—and I do mean discover, because I am largely unfamiliar with the individual symbols in this system—that comedy has already reared its head in this process. For this Cosmic Blague is meant to entertain (the notion of humor); and it’s a wee synchronicity all its own that day two brings a little co(s)mic relief. Or is it something else? If yesterday’s first Sabian Symbol is about the emergence of new forms and potentiality and “the impulse to be”, then today’s symbol is hinged on our initial awareness of nature, the human kind specifically, which seems to be something of a joke that needs ‘splaining to us by some kind of funny man. One can’t help but think of the jester or the fool, one who, at court, can point to the ills of the realm, and even the shortcomings of the king, to be laughed off and away in self-reflection and self-realization. We have just emerged, full of new purpose, and yet we have to immediately check ourselves, first, by having a sense of humor about our intentions and our actions. We mustn’t take ourselves too seriously or be too rigid. The jester is a mercurial character in every sense; most significantly, he is versatile and adaptible. Perhaps what he reveals is that All is subject to change. We set out with goals in mind but if we aren’t willing to compromise, negotiate and navigate a variable nature—that of our environment, others’ and our own—we mightn’t succeed. We cannot control everything, nor should we want to. We should only meet our experience half way. Thus , we allow for serendipity and blessed synchronicity. To do this we might immediately have to let go of that which is unnecessary, as one discards in gin or poker, life likewise being a game of chance where retiscence or rigidity can be a recipe for failure. So, in some way, today might be about killing our darlings, already letting go of best laid plans and accepting the way life is unfolding, lotus-like. It begs the question: What do we gain when we lose, let loose or let go, whether it be by choice or design, and can we play it as it lays? I’m thinking about people born on this day in Aries and if they portray any such interpretation of this Sabian Symbol, just as I try to laugh at the cosmic blagues that have been played on me and what I’ve had to discard to get, what obstacles I’ve had to remove, or the sacrifices I’ve made, whether intentionally or not.

I’ve certainly experienced greater loss in my life than I have of late; and yet this past year I did see certain key relationships fall by the wayside. The cosmic joke about this experience was that it had the nature of a set up. That is to say that I had set my intention on having healthier relationships, less dysfunctional ones, overall. I was determined to represent myself more truthfully in certain bonds and to say no to invitations I might’ve accepted in the past for f.o.m.o. or fear of not doing enough to foster these so-called friendships. But the upshot was ostracization from such quarters for not being totally available, all the time, as I might have been, detrimentally to myself, in the past. Here I was trying to establish healthy boundaries and to rid said relationships of any codpendent residue; and that was perceived as a problem. I was accused of being parsimonious, unavailable, even erratic. To wit, I found my inventory being taken, dating back nearly a decade, by those who needed more ballast for their argument that I was ripe for the discard pile. In simple terms: Assuming I was dumping them, which I wasn’t, they had to beat me to the bunch and ditch me but good so it could be their move. You know how that goes. It’s sad and it’s painful but there is naught to do; and I am not without ego, and am way too proud and principled to dignify such situations with an attempt to disentangle the labyrinthian disinformation that characterized them. I simply walked away. But, not made of stone, it bothered me for months on end; and I wrote endless emails I never sent getting it all off my chest, which worked quite effectively to a point. I do indeed believe that I posses the plots of several plays in draft form, and some pretty Albe-esque dialogue to boot, should I ever want to manifest these thoughts and feelings and literally see it played out before me, not to mention devise the endings of my choosing.

Then this winter I lost my wedding ring. I’d lost about thirty pounds since I bought it and it was my own damn fault for not having it resized. There were moments of foreshadowing when I’d wake up with it not on my finger only to find it had been flung across the room when I turned abruptly in my sleep. But on one of the blizzard days in Boston a month or so ago I returned home from a walk with it gone from finger. I couldn’t quite feel my fingers because it had been so cold—it may have come off with my glove, or just fallen from my super shrunken frozen digit. I was very upset. Very upset. Despite the fact it wasn’t one of the set of rings we actually exchanged at our wedding, it had more significance still. I mean, we were married in 1989 so our first rings were what you’d expect: wide silver Robert Lee Morris jobs; mine was so thick i couldn’t bend my finger for years. If I didn’t have an allergy to it, I had an energetic repulsion. It never felt good on me and I stopped wearing it not many years after marriage. For more than a decade we didn’t wear wedding rings until one day…yes it’s about to happen, folks!: a big synchronicity is making it’s way into my storytelling, albeit not unheavy-handedly:

When Stella and I graduated university we moved to Paris where we established a group of friends with whom we are still quite close. Jo was one of that number and just over a decade later she would begin publishing a slew of books under the name J.K. Rowling. In 2005, she was already world famous of course and though we had been in touch with her, recently-ish, it had been a year or two; and so when we had a two-night trip planned to Edinburgh for the first time, from London where we were staying with our friends and godchildren, we weren’t about to let Jo know that we were coming, as it was going to be a quick thirty-six hours; and it would have taken some doing to reach her as her lifestyle had changed a bit to say the least. So we didn’t try. As it was, we had just one full day to explore the whole city and I was resolved that we shouldn’t even stop to eat—we should just keep moving and grab snacks and streetfood along the way. So, of course, being the Libra I am, by noon I was famished and wanted a sit-down lunch. We had stopped into Harvey Nichols—I think I needed to buy socks—and we thought, let’s go upstairs to the cafe. Well it was a crush. The place was jammed and the host pointed out that he only had one small table for two free, which was smack up against what looked like a univeristy student, scribbling away in her notebook, head down, and I asked: Is there not a more private table opening up? There wasn’t. So off we trundled, my left upper lip in a sneer, to sit down next to the scribbler twisting her hair. Stella didn’t sit but dropped her bag and beelined for the loo as I sat down, with my attitude, harumph. I noticed the scribbler was dressed all in shades of acquas and blues as I swivelled my eyes left and down. Nice boots for starters. And as I started to scan upwards, planning to sneak a peek, if I could, at the face, she was doing likewise, and our eyes met in a dead on stare. We both gasped or at least we thought we did. In fact we screamed, and Stella came running back thinking I’d had some sort of seizure or attack. Then we all three screamed more, quite audibly, which drew over the host and waiters who thought perhaps that the two Americans newly seated were accosting this lady customer whose identity was not unknown to them. While, in truth, the Universe had simply arranged a surprise lunch for Jo, Stella and me in so wonderfully easy a manner that we could never have planned for ourselves. We slammed our tables together and sat and ate and chatted for hours. Jo asked why it was we didn’t wear our wedding rings. We told her. And she said we had to go directly to her jeweler on George Street, Hamilton & Inches—she had just come from there as she was having a real golden snitch made for a charity event—and we were to tell the head clerk that “the golden snitch lady sent” us, and that we did, to which he, replied, “yes well, let me sharpen my pencil,” meaning let’s see what kind of discount I can offer on the two rings we’d picked out. I loved my ring. It looked like the ring. As in The Lord of the…but I lost it this winter after nearly exactly a decade.

Yesterday, S had to go to Frankie’s. And I had the day to really space out and make up for lost time. Met for lunch at Quotidien then had a little lie down before our appointment with an old client we hadn’t seen in many years. Like all our clients, this one leads an extraordinary life but perhaps a bit extra so than most. I don’t know. We had dinner at East Pole which was meh. Anyway continuing from yesterday’s rememberances:

But here’s the weird thing. First, since I lost my ring, it made the loss of those aformentioned people pale in comparison and it completely cured me of any pangs or angst on that subject. The second thing that happened was that I kept getting the phrase in my mind: The ring is a Horcrux. Now I’d like to say I know so much about the Harry Potter world that I could immediately rattle off to you what a Horcrux is, but I couldn’t, and I didn’t bother to even look it up until this morning, despite the fact this phrase has been being repeated in my brain since my ring’s loss. What I did have the greatest sense of, though, without knowing what a Horcrux really was…was..that somehow the ring being flung out there into the snowy world amplified a certain spiritual power and connectedness. I can’t quite put it into words but I’ll try: It has something to do with my mother who passed around the time I purchased the ring. Okay, however strange this sounds, my sense was that the ring, flung out there somewhere, instead of being on my finger, was taking on the form of a remote receiver, like a power station, and that it is actually functioning as a transmittor between not only me and my mother, but me and whatever powers from which I draw my own brand of psychic ability. And that the loss cum sacrifice of this ring, which I came to possess in the first place by way of a very lovely and entertaining cosmic joke, not only provided healing and closure on some pretty serious emotional pain, but it has become far more a source of strength and power than it ever could have been in my sweaty-palmed possession.

So, as I said, I looked up the term Horcrux this morning and it does serve a similar function to what I sensed my ring was providing, in that it is an object of power in which is hidden a fragment of the soul of the person who created it. The Horcrux anchors one’s soul to the earth if the body is destroyed and the more one makes the closer one gets to immortality. The upshot is they’re evil and only created by a Dark witches or wizards. Any opinions on my person from certain quarters not withstanding, I am a very white warlock and so I believe my ring to be the Light version of a Horcrux, designed not for some future immortality but for a very present sense of divinity. Interestingly, the Greek root hor- has two meanings: the first being boundary, as in the word horizon, which seems to define J.K. Rowling’s Horcrux, being that it is bound to its creator, and it binds him or her to the earth; the second meaning of hor-, however is hour, as in the word horoscope, something not unfamiliar to me. I cast my horoscopes as I cast my ring.

We had the worst weather for driving yesterday. It was so stressful. There was no visibility. And I was a bit nervy from all these nights out in a row. So we decided to stop some place on the water in Connecticut. It was horrible. First they put us on the same floor, in the same block of rooms, with a family reunion with a surplus of badly behaved, loud children who made the hallway their personal playground. No. So we moved to two more rooms until it was palatable. We ate in the “lounge” for lunch which was not good. They also had a “tony” Italian restaurant where we had dinner at it was almost worse. Couldn’t not wait to get back on the road. And now we return to more remembrances and inferences on the Sabian Symbols from Blagues past in honor of the fact that if I have to write another word I’m going to have a nervous breakdown.

Excuse me, waiter? There’s a Macrocosm in my Microcosm.I’m already sensing a pattern within a pattern. That is to say that I think the twelve signs of the zodiac might very well impact these 360 degress of Sabian Symbols in turn. I just read brief synopsis of the first twelve, and I can easily see how each of the zodiac signs, Aries through Pisces, influence the first twelve interpretations, in sequence. So, without jumping too far ahead, I’m going to be looking for that pattern to repeat. If this turns out to be the case, or just the signature basis of my interpretation, well, I’d be happy either way. I’d like to feel, of course, that I’m not just doing a Julie & Julia, serving up recipes of interpretation by rote, but rather just taking the title of the recipe and freestyling. But yes: 1° Aries was all about birth and emergence and objectivity (all very Aries stuff) while 2° Aries was about self-reflection and our nature and subjectivity (so Taurus) and today, moving into 3° Aries, the Sabian Symbol for which is The Cameo Profile of a Man Suggesting The Shape of his Country, the theme of which is intersection, identifying with community, sussing up immediate surroundings an understanding the playing field (very Gemini indeed).

As I communicate this theory I realize how laborious it would be to do this every day in my interpretations, so I will leave off it moving forward, keeping the nothin in the back of my mind. A cameo is a quick rendering, an outline, an immediate encapsulation and likeness. It speaks to our ability to know where we are and to what we belong. It is associated with the Logos, our ability to name and identify and give life to our identity within a context. Here, today, we identify with some whole and the larger life it expresses. Spiritually speaking it is the connection of our Atman with Brahman—also very Geminian considering that sign’s duality on the theme of divinity. Stop I said. Here we identify so much with a group or even a notion that we become it’s life. When we are representing some whole, acting as it’s agent, and I am borrowing, now very heavily, here, from my hero (and my Julia Child, if I were to have one), the great humanist astrologer Dane Rudhyar, whose birthday it is today (I just realized!), in saying that this Sabian Symbol touches upon leading a transpersonal life. That is to say that we are not mere spokespersons for our surrounding but the conduit through which the whole expresses itself. When we give ourself over to cause or country we do take on a Christ-like nature. We are the face, the “cameo”, of the larger portrait, the collective “country” or environment.

I’m kind of freaking out because, in my calendar, I had set aside this past weekend to work on the cause which I profile: The Afterglow Festival and The Glow Theatre that I founded in Provincetown, Massachusetts. It’s a non-profit arts organization and yet it’s so much more than that; and my assignment this weekend was to communicate, in written form, how much more it actually is so that I might inspire increased support and fundraising in an environment of increasing greed and obstacles. I know my boss (me I thought) is going to have me work nights this week accomplishing this task. But this Sabian Symbol meditation has inspired me and, as I say, it sort of freaks me out. As if the cause of what I’m doing is the real boss. That somehow it found me and made me it’s agent and I’m the conduit it through which it is finding expression and life. Because, really, it is so much bigger than just a weeklong festival in Provincetown or the starting of a sustainable new theatre company, it’s the spirit of the place that is seeking salvation: Provincetown is the birthplace of the modern American stage; this is a fact. And though it’s also noteworthy fine-arts heritage has remained intact for over a century, it’s theatrical heritage hasn’t been so fortunate. People buy fine art because they can own it and it lasts. When it comes to the seeming ephemeral nature of a theatrical experience, people can be short-sighted perhaps. In any case, in what was once a haven for artists living among the local mainly fisherman community has become an enclave of realtors selling second homes to people who barely inhabit them or who bought them for the sole purpose of renting them out to tourists to whom nearly the entire town and its businesses cater. Some establishments cut and run, making bank enough in the summer months to justify their existence; others complain that there isn’t enough year round business and they want more, more, more.

The glare of the on-season is rife with gimmicks and themes to attract collectives of tourists under the guise of diversity whilst really its just serial homogeny that’s being served up. Provincetown is like a great aged actress turned out to turn tricks. It’s artistic theatrical soul is in danger and in need of saving. And, for whatever reason, I’ve become a cameo for this country. Dane Rudhyar says this symbol characterizes Participation in a Greater Life. I’ll buy that. I feel as if my campaign for Provincetown’s theatrical heritage is akin to that of Save Venice. But instead of saving the town from literal rising waters—although something tells me those are coming too—I seek to rescue it from its baser nature and the voracious sea of mediocrity, mendacity and greed. I see a Provincetown, with all its lamplights glowing, all the year round, hotels and inns filled with theatergoers gathered together to experience the creation of theater. And I see theater as the single most profitable and sustainable industry that Provincetown can foster. The Afterglow Festival and The Glow Theatre themselves are just avatars championing what can be this whole industry. Sundance migh have started as a film festival, but it has defined an entire city and revitalized both it and our independent movie industry. I know Afterglow can do that for Provincetown and for the American theatre.

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.

Sagittarius 30°/Capricorn 0° (December 21)

Yeah so, Monday, Monday. It can be a good day. If I can remember it not as a blur. Oh right last night we tuned in to watch JVB’s Christmas show which was really fun to attend. It has been quite a difficult year and the advent of some normalcy is really appreciated. I’m sure they made some good tippage—I’ve given all I can give, myself, this year (though I must remember to give to S’s organization). Today I really will get back into the book in earnest. It will actually happen. Not that I really did much more than just smooth out the opener of the next chapter and kind of reinvent for another page which is always annoying because I’m holding all this already written material but the trick now is just sort of marrying what’s there with what could be and that can be kind of a cool thing. It’s all about Taurus man and of course with a St two talking heads 77 and not because I was thinking outwords man but because somebody gave me a challenge to pick a bunch of albums from the year when I was 14 years old so I picked talking head 77 the clash daviau my aim is true by Elvis Costello and David bowie’s heroes and so we listened to those at dinner and then we decided to watch the Keith haring documentary and I was like wait a minute isn’t he a Taurus and sure enough yet he is and there was a keyword from listening to talking heads the album had some bonus tracks which were amazing and he kept using the word sensation and that fits right into where I am and my writing of that chapter and then also just like I don’t know what it is about Keith but you know really after Andy he was the next pop artist to mean to be popular to have as wide an audience as pop possible is pretty well it’s very Leo for in Andy’s case but Terry Taurus too and making him that much more accessible really not making so much of himself that’s the difference between Keith haring and Andy and that’s why the pop shop which never made money was so important it was like a public house so that was last night and yeah pretty fun and tomorrow may prove to be surprising on many levels oh I did continue my dialogue with Cynthia which is great also I need to make a list of people I need to contact wish a Merry Christmas and all that jazz used to make Christmas cards watercolors back in the day and sitting for hours and hours and do the same design but each one was individual and one year I did New Year’s cards I did snowdrops which was fun don’t do that again I wish I would have kept a couple for myself I don’t think anyone would have saved them they would Chuck them like they were just a hallmark card but I did put a lot of love into those cards those paintings I like being creative back in the day in that way I guess I could still do that I should really try to continue doing watercolor and I also love paper mache a whole hell of a lot.

The following blocks of text are exceprts from my first year of  Blagues, nos. 1321-1325. 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.

Fairly lousy weather for our trip from Boston today to the far reaches of hellish Brooklyn. The journey takes one through concrete jungle at the end, past LaGuardia under construction. It is just the bleakest manifestation of urban life that I have ever experienced. But this has always been the case. Since I was a little boy, when my parents would drive around this part of the world, I would instantly become depressed, cornered in the back seat. There was a heaviness, a gloom, that I’d mainly feel descend into my sinuses. It was never sunny in this part of the world. If it wasn’t raining or slushy, it was hot and smoggy. There is nothing to recommend this part of the world. Talk about feeling like a rat in a cage. Even the terrible roads often have grim concrete overhangs. New York benefitted from some great PR, mainly beginning in the late seventies when Sinatra covered the eponymous song. But it has always been a backwater in my mind. The New Amsterdam rescued from the swamps extending into Bayonne, Jersey City and beyond to Seacaucus and other god-forsaken places to the west, just as the desolate sprawl extended to the Bronx and to Queens and Brooklyn and Staten Island.

I don’t know if I mention that I suffer from a certain bridge phobia which alters over time in intensity but has been quite bad as of late. It was inherited. Anyway, that was an added stress. But rehearsal went very well and lasted only a short time and then we headed (over Brooklyn Bridge, which isn’t the worst) to our hotel on East 64. Toni Basel was staying there. Otherwise it was pretty much a tourist spot, though we rented a one-bedroom apartment which turned out to be nice than I imagined. At this point we are pretty much rehearsing on our own and S. is doing her many errands and I am making my myriad necessary connections to extract the most from this week leading up to Christmas. We had a late lunch slash early dinner at Match—pea soup and steak tartare for me!

We headed downtown to see Vivian’s show and thought we were running rather late. Did you know that Uber added something like 100,000 cars to the Manhattan streets, which is why nothing moves anymore. No longer such a thing as zipping uptown or down. Anyway, there was a big benefit show beforehand, with Lance H. as musical director, and nobody was even going into JVB yet. Our seats were annoying—I have to remember that the seating chart isn’t that accurate when it comes to delineating separate tables. The show was fantastic as JVB’s shows always are. This one really was a topper. We had a slice of cheesecake and some wine and after the show headed back stage and reconoitred in the dressing room before heading, all of us, ultimately, for drinks in the Library.

There were a number of familiar faces and some new ones and we ended up all seated at a big sprawling table. I hung with Nath Ann and Claudia mainly and had a really great time. I was going to take snaps of lighting for our own show but I forgot. I mean JVB is so fun to be fully immersed in I just wouldn’t have split my brain in a way to “grab looks” but I did make some mental notes. A truly great evening all in all. Especially JVB’s rendition of Silver Bells and the opening monologue that descried how the show was accidentally titled Refridgerated.

I’ve decided that given the holidays and given my travels that I would dip back into the archives for material I may or nay not have presented here before. To be totally honest I’ve no idea. I was looking for a pack of stories but what I found wasn’t them. In part I found the following:

I love Julia Child. Who doesn’t, I know, but she has always held a special fascination for me. When I was a waiter in 1986 at the Harvest in Harvard Square, she and her husband Paul would come in for lunch. You would here “Bonjour Roger” in that booming unmistakeable tenor as she greeted the tiny alcoholic nicotine sodden maitre d’ whose name she properly prounced in French, ro-jay. Paul, a curled shrimp of a man who had already suffered his series of small strokes, followed hist towering wife into the dining room where she would always order the same thing: a burger, rare, no bun. She is a Leo and I’ve often remarked on the similarity between her choice of lunch and the bloody meat one would throw into a lion cage.

Before the book and movies about her during the last decades, I always thought she would make a great subject for a work of art. I won’t go any further into that thought lest I actually end up pursuing this instinct myself. At the very least I think she and her husband would make great costumes for Stella and me, come Halloween. But, obviously, there’s more to it. Here was a couple who worked together (even though you didn’t know he was behind the scenes), who had no kids and were rather late bloomers. They were also obsessed with France and had an affinity for Cambridge, Massachusetts and Maine. All of this I can relate to.

She described herself “as the cat looking at the king” when she was a student of Le Cordon Bleu—what can be more Leo an expression than that. And what person from any other sign could turn what was for her a personal passion into an entire movement, changing the way Americans cooked, forever. What other sign could see a chef superstar embodied in the form of a fifties something woman. I’m happy I had the few opportunities I did to wait on Mrs. Child whose name couldn’t be more fitting for someone who lived life with a childlike exuberance and who gave so much to the world.

And then some which will constitute the next spate of entries that follow. And then, I’m sure, I’ll find a way to fatten them all up in the process of posting them. What I don’t want to do is overthink this. I have much territory to cover now and precision isn’t to be my greatest friend. I do still think it a wonderful idea to write a two person play about Paul and Julia Child; even if just as an exercise. Oh I don’t know kids. I’m not going to get to do everything in life at this point so I have start really picking and choosing. What I do know is that I have some past stumbles to right; that is one thing that is for certain.

======

I’m in NYC on this day, seeing clients as we prepare for tomorrow’s show at Joe’s Pub. Yesterday was rather tame. We walked around for hours in the morning, did our shopping at that market, Gracie’s or something, on Second Avenue, I think then had a solid breakfast at Pain Quotidien. We got some rehearsing in, made some lunch and then had a client with whom we had a wee wine after. We ate dinner in as well and it was a pretty chill day. Today, I’m feeling my oats a bit more and have a wild hair to tame. Of course this is never a good thing if you try to scratch such an itch. It not only gets you nowhere it sets you back. And all good judgment goes out the window. I’ll leave it there. Anyway, I had said a couple of days I go that I would revisit some old things I’ve written. This dates back to the beginning of this Blague.

The beginning is as good a place to start as anywhere. Better, I suppose. Like any first attempt at something there are bound to be mistakes and I will look back on this initial go at some point and cringe. But in just a few hours we will enter the sign of Aries, it being March 20, 2015. And my plan for this “astrological new year” is to explore the cosmic energy of each unfolding day from all different angles. I don’t know what those angles are exactly yet, but I have gut inklings and they’re fun to follow. I have a few notions in mind, as well, for ancillary stories and such that I will spew here. In fact it’s those notions that inspired the title COSMIC BLAGUE which, I needn’t tell you, is a play on words; as blague means joke in French and is also pronounced blog, so, well, you get it. I’m especially out to explore the notion of synchronicity this year, too, as it relates, for better or for worse, to the universe “acting funny”. When we feel we are the butt of some cosmic joke, or when we miraculously experience synchronicity, in both cases the Universe seems to have an intelligence and a desire, even, to communicate with us. And I’ve found the more you get into that concept, the more it does try to tell you something, one way or another. So I thought I’d share some of my experiences with what I’ve come to perceive as a droll if not an hysterical cosmos. The “Strange Phenomenon” that Leo goddess Kate Bush sings about, no mere coincidence; there’s that. And then we’ve those times when we feel we’ve actually conjured things into being, which isn’t so much synchronicity, but rather, perhaps, the working of magic along these same channels or celestial avenues that sometimes “coincidentally” lead to our door. So I’ll get into all that happenstance, but I’ll stay on track, mainly, by delving into the energy of each day of the year slash degree of the celestial circle as we journey, once again, through the zodiac.

Most of you likely know me as one-half of Starsky + Cox, authors, among other things, of Sextrology which is a popular “sexy astrology” book I wrote with Stella Starsky. If you’ve read it you might agree that it’s deceptively smart and sometimes pretty funny. The sex in Sextrology primarily refers to gender, not the act itself—our premise being that men and women of the same sign actually embody different sets of archetypes that speak volumes on their personality, emotionality, sexuality and gender- and sexual-identity. The most recognizable archetypes are the classic gods and, being that our zodiac is a western one, these gods veritably live within that mandala. The gods are gorgeous personifications of energy. We too are personifications of energy. And we maintain that people born under a certain sun sign embody a different recipe of cosmic energy than others born under another sign—generally speaking, breaking the entire population into twelve groups, or twenty-four, in sextrological terms. But let’s put people aside for a moment (although they are the most vivid representation of cosmic energy available to us): If there is a blanket energy associated with each zodiacal month of the year that manifests through all life and experience, then it follows that there are more niche cosmic energies specifically linked to each day of the astrological year. I suppose that was the 1990s pop-premise of that doorstop Birthday Book, from which we all got a giggle, glib as it was. But I know there’s more to each unfolding lotus of a day than the empirical notion that Marcello Mastrianni, Bridget Bardot, Dita von Teese and, ahem, yours truly were all born on “The Day of the Heartbreaker”; although a look at that list would certainly substantiate the notion beyond a shadow of a doubt. That was sarcasm in case you missed it, Sheldon.

So, as we start another trip around the wheel, beginning in just a few hours, I want to plunge below the surface of the observable and see if we can’t more profoundly delve each daily turn, turn, turn. I get the fact that, to everything, there is a season; but perhaps there are more specific purposes to each and every day. To be cosmically aligned with more subtle energies, those that, when grouped together in a monthly clump might be recognized as this month or that spent in one astrological sign or another, during which time, taken together, experience has the flavor of that sign, as do those born during it, might very well be possible. For the zodiac isn’t frivolous in my imagination, neither in depth or in degree. Depth-wise, it is a symbolically rich system encoded with myth and mystery—in terms of degree, each day of the year could have a sacred significance. And sure, if people (again the best living symbols we have) born on a given day point to what that significance might be, their collective roles and tendencies are worth considering. I will surely be exploring the Sabian Symbols—more on those later—which have long fascinated me and, I suspect, will help open a doorway onto what the larger point is of, well, each point on our 360-degree circle of 365-6 days. Astrologers examine the significance of the signs of the zodiac all the time, a month at a time. But getting down to the nitty gritty of the daily grind of the cosmic wheel? Beyond the light entertainment of daily horoscopes, it’s not really done. So I want to get into it. My sense is that I will feel more aligned with the cosmic clock and better understand what makes it tick, tick, tick. If nothing else, I’m sure I’ll learn something along the day and, perhaps, stay that much more in the moment or, at least, the day.

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.

Sagittarius 29° (December 20)

I’ve let a couple of days go by and now I’m playing a bit of catch up. Trying to remember what this day was actually all about it was just two days ago Sunday. But there you go things tend to be a blur. I know that there is some combination of driving back and forth to eastham overshooting the mark pre dinner but making some yummy food . Tonight’s going to be Putin Oscar someone’s decided so that’s cool. I’ve also rocked a chowder and then doing salmon and flounder which I swear to God I think I’m going to start growing gills. So yeah I’ve been kinda feeling many fields and figuring out what I want to say next in the process of this book which is totally cool I came to the realization that these packs of pre work that I did which I started to feel like I wasn’t even using such that I would have wasted a whole bunch of time will be super useful in the end I just need to plow through and really say anything all of which can be replaced on the second round you roundy I received a lovely whiskey from Scotland I must send thank you note remind me. 

Taurus is notoriously unstraightforward in his approach to just about everything. He can be oblique, usually asking others a series of questions (to which you already know the answers, Taurus) designed to illustrate his desired agenda without seeming to assert it. It really is quite genius, his ability to make others believe his desired outcomes are all their ideas. When we say you are evocative, Taurus, we mean it quite literally. You draw others out to make decisions and take action, with your signature leading questions—do you think we should maybe do this or that?—such that you seem to only ever be offering suggestions and, therefore, off the hook of responsibility should things, decidedly, go pear-shaped, which they mostly do not. The Taurus man is very selective in his relationships and, for better or worse, every person has a purpose in his life. Aspiration is at the front of his mindset, and Taurus is propelled forward in life, primarily through his associations. He is not typically one to go it alone in life. He needs to be appreciated, in every sense of the word. It’s a paradoxical thing, in that he can be sycophantic in the extreme toward those whose company he is seeking to keep, while at the same time he may be relegating these folks to mere stepping stones. Still, this may be a useful necessity in navigating the figurative garden landscape of the Taurus man experience. 

The following blocks of text are exceprts from my first year of  Blagues, nos. 1316-1320. 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.

Fell asleep ridiculously early and woke up at around 10PM and then couldn’t sleep all night long. I just ended up watching old movies and having a sort of dark night of the soul letting story lines (like Beth’s in Little Women) move in on me and make me wail and purge—much needed. I managed to cook a roasted chicken but otherwise I have been off food since last evening. I’ve been binge-watching season one of The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel, as well. I didn’t see Daniel Goldfarb’s name on it but I did some research and he comes in as producer in season two. We only met this writer once because Charlize Theron and company put us together during our WME years when there was talk of our creating a show. I still think this is a possibility and I might reach out to Dan directly some time in the future. For now we are having to build our own profile here. But it surely is on the list of desired larger projects. Anyway I think the Masel show is charming and the lead actress as well as Alex Bornstein, well really every one is pretty great on it. The writing season one was fine. There were great things about it. I’m not sure how I feel about this Lenny Bruce character but it’s kind of cool. The Jane Lynch character had to be based on something; in fact the whole thing makes me feel like it is; but that story line in partcular was over the top. Maybe something to do with Jane’s performance the second time we see her? I do love her though.

Anyway the larger dreams are what needs come into view now. My brain just needs some serious airing out after this year; and my body could use a nice steaming as well; I look forward to getting back into the hot room. Fairly desperate for it actually. It is simply something that needs be. The direction everything is going is really tantamount to investing in myself and our shared brand—the only way I’ll be able to do the championing of others bit, now, is if it happens super easily. I do need to explore new options for performers for this coming year; although I believe I can put together a fairly decent roster from the characters that are currently floating around. People truly enjoy certain acts and there would be no reason not to have some of them return. At this point many people have become too big; the second generation of folks want fame not festivals; and I’m just now tapping into other artists whom I can champion. All in all I will work my usual magic and then some as I transition out of doing this myself. I think that a decade of doing Afterglow would still be a goal I’d like to achieve; as I move my way into expansion via the new “moveable feast” circuit I’d like to set up in New England via support from some real investors.

Back on track today and devoting my full attention to creative projects at hand. We had a lovely chat with Patty Poo and a decent rehearsal; the theme of this year’s show seems to be “no brainer”. I feel I want to creatively add a clearer message. And isolate where this breakdown of 1, 2, 3 appears. You could go on any cosmic metaphysical journey of comparative religion and other mythical, symbolic, metaphorical, and archetypal archetypes, but you chose ours. And so yes welcome to our open sleigh. Anyway, this sort of thing seems wise.Little by little things will get accomplished and there will be frustrations along the way, but really, what it comes down to, is staying clear-headed and to continue to absorb everything that has to be uploaded to my often sievelike brain. Anyway I miss getting up early and thus getting a jump on things; but right now I’m better off staying up as late as possible because we will need to be night owling this coming week. For me it’s about destressing. I have a nice ninety minute massage scheduled for Saturday and my whole meditation is to come down of all stresses and, to do that I have to be rather a temple lest I become a tetchy mess. When it comes to the words of this show it’s really up to me so I’ll need to be vigilant vis a vis my own lifestyle this coming week; I can have some fun on Sunday, but even then I don’t want to stay out too late or overdo. I was looking more closely than I ever have at my skin and lordy be I look a lot more dried and crinkled than I used to. Anyway it’s all fine and there are only ever two answers to any of these questions about life and they are yoga and meditation.

All that said there is nothing to bemoan. I’ve been pretty lucky up till now given my treating myself like a cheap date. There is this spectrum, in our vernacular between superpower and shadow side; and one can go for a long time without paying much attention, letting things be rather lax. Then comes the moment when things naturally switch and you have to slide back into home base. I think that’s what’s happening here. A little clearout, letting ones organs shrink back to normal size. Ha! Well in certain cases the opposite may be true. Anyway it’s important to be your best. I think one of the weirdest manifestations of social media is sharing your “journey” with other people; I didn’t care if you were fat to begin with (was I supposed to since you have been fat for the last thirty years some of you?); apparently you were. Because you’re no such an egotistical nightmare being thinner. I definitely liked (all of) you much better when you were fat. And don’t get me started on people in programs sharing their day count, well, daily. Don’t you belong to an anonymous organization. Then by all means keep it to yourself out here in the public domain.

Do you know TEEN? Teeny Lieberson and her three sisters. I’ve always fascinated by bands that are made up of siblings. I would have liked to have nice siblings instead of the one evil sister I do have. Or did. I mean it’s quite a long time now, over twelve years, since I had to endure her presence. And really it’s still so raw, the whole of my upbringing up to that point, that there has been no real joy in relieving it and since a person’s first one-person solo play should be either autobiographical or involve appearing at one point only in a pair of tighty wighties, something from which I feel obliged to spare you, I havent really been able to find a solid way in up until this point. I do need to stick to certain formulas but I also have to find the flow here. I am definitely interested in riding an abundance wave in the New Year. That actually could be my resolution I suppose—sure, why not.

I will spend tomorrow with script in hand. I will get a haircut early in the day. Then we have Matt at noon. I think I really like the band Interpol; I wonder how that is looked upon generally by people. Not that I care. I believe I miss our Los Angeles years quite a bit lately and am looking forward to doing business there in the coming year. I really am quite happy to have this creative venture, as I am all my creative ventures. I found an international student i.d. card from 1997 when I was too old really for it; but having it, obtained through a friend’s flexible travel agency, our tickets to fly back and forth from, States UK, States Europe, was basically peanuts if I remember. Or I might have been reading Vidal’s Palimpsest. I don’t think I ncessarily need a gimmick. Though I don’t want to just be some talking head where I speak; that’s one thing I liked about S.’s show—she found a way to deliver messages different ways without getting too hoakey or having to create more work for herself. I should start very simple and just start using what I wrote back then, dating back to first time on the new boat, and bits and bobs might make their way directly in, a preposition which shouldn’t end this sentence or paragraph.

I will start playing outfits tomorrow too I suppose. I suppose that on the twentieth of the month I could put together a nice plea for people who might want to send to a last hour help. I will also circle back round to the would be interested parties to see if we could get Brian’s stuff going. I’ll get Dan’s show moving. And we will have to fix yet another hole in the programming, which doesn’t feel particularly fair or necessary but that’s life. People are truly set on different speeds and I am one of those who are always early or at least exactly on time; I also tend to get a lot of work done in advance of when it needs to. There will be the books to promote too of course. I think I will need to wait until the end of this day before moving on with any thoughts here today. My goal is to keep the writing closer moving forward, so that it can feed into what I’m doing more.

Mainly tomorrow I will sit with all the words of put on paper for next week’s performance and let new thoughts cut in and create for myself some additional scaffolding to hang ideas on so that I can go in any direction I want with the narrative but to make sure to hit home the most salient points. And what about the band Iceage, how do we feel about them? They’re from Denmark.

Some ideas occured to me today. And I have been recording them as best I can. I am making headway although I am not approaching things that way this time really. I am really focusing on allowing all that needs doing to unfold in a relaxed way. I have been sleeping pretty damn well that’s for sure, so the small changes I’m making seem to be coming together. Either that or I am completely deluding myself. As far as structuring the next two days go, creatively especially, I’ve come up with a formula which I think can really work. First I have to deconstruct what I already have on paper and create more short-hand heiroglypics and then I need to make sure that each “plate” of the show has what I’m calling a meringue, the main peak of message and experience that needs to be said in that particular plate. Twelve in all. Not too challenging and then, starting tomorrow, which will be day one of seven I will begin to run the entire business while focusing on quadrants or thirds in terms of really getting stuff in the old body.

Speaking of which, I’m wistful today about some sweet past experiences and the remembering is definitely animating me today. I feel a great deal of creative energy beginning to build up inside of me and my meditation is on allowing that energy to travel unhampered to the various places in myself which might have been energetically stressed or lacking in the past. When I was much younger, in my twenties, I did a lot of visualizing of energy traveling around my bodies, I would “sew” bodily areas. When I think back to that age I feel less energized than I do now; at a certain point in the day, most days, I had to lie down and the feeling of fatigue in my body would often be fairly acute. It was probably just a matter of smoking really tiring weed. Laugh out loud. Anyway, sometimes what you need. My goal is to get snippets of autobiography down on paper with more regularity than what I’ve been doing. And that simply requires outlining “events” in my life and organizing them chronologically.

I really do think that my life, thus far, characterized, as it is and has been, by three letters—DIY—is the reason why this next phase of life when I have to delegate is going to feel very much like a breeze in comparison. And it’s why I’m never going to be an asshole. If anything it’s going to be a struggle for me not to control and micromanage; I’m sure that’s where my natural proclivities will lie after having been so singular, solo and self-sufficient all these many years. It has been crickets but I’m going to remain positive. Optimism takes vigiliance. It’s not hoping for the best but rather being the abundance in the moment, each moment. I have to say it hasn’t always been easy to do that; but it isn’t impossible.

Today was a very good day. Michael Cohen, whom I last saw at Barneys at lunch meeting and greeting ever member of the waitstaff down to the busboy, was sentenced to three years. He’s a fucking criminal; I don’t feel bad for him. Maybe he can score one of thost busboy jobs when he gets out. But additionally, make it so much better is the Enquirer connection. I’ve been waiting for this shit to hit the fan and it sure smells good to me. And yet, because he’s such a crazed lunatic, I refuse to believe that the evildoer is capable of going away quietly. He’s like a psycho who’s taken you hostage. He’s not going anywhere without trying to take out others. What’s he going to do? Go to jail. I don’t think so. And what of Pence—he pardons him? And then who pardons him. His butt boy. Thank you Mika B.

Decided to postpone our journey for another twenty hours and psychologically it is already making all the difference. There is a certain affect to an atmosphere of anticipation when you inject even the slightest delay; it’s like a reprieve. Still everything will by rights be divided into units of time. Tomorrow I will write up something for this mini event we are doing in Provincetown for New Year’s—will be really fun to help out at a holiday market and offer some folks some new-you advice for the coming year. And anyway it might be a good promotion for the books. I did manage to find ourselves a little hotel room, compliments of the house; and we will be able to watch the fireworks from Canteen if we so choose; it shouldn’t be too cold. So I’m definitely looking forward to that. And we can go and have dinner at Strangers & Saints and see Raina which will be lovely. A perfect Provincetown day. I can really look forward to that actually. Had some more thoughts.

Aries starts at Equinox. Spring. When there are lambs to wear around your shoulders. It’s all about sheep. Jesus is a Pisces cusp Aries. We put it at March 19th/20th. 19 reduces to 1. Also Providence: The protective care of God or of nature as a spiritual power. Helios has to show up for others everyday. The Sun King must watch over his Kingdom. Dom, like domicile home. HQ our sphere of influence. Patronage. Leos are the best at setting up their happy fiefdoms. But we all must find where we are the creative source, not only for ourselves, but for the benefit of others who rely on us. Creation of a life if not an industry. But it’s a two way street.. It is the home you make for yourself. It is you restored. Leo people are simply the best at restoration. Like Shakespeare’s Hal vowing, after a debauched youth, to be like the Sun. Exemplary. Fixed fire is about burning brightly and steady, simply being the best you can be; that is not letting your manner slip. Like being Obama or J.K. Rowling.

You know could go on any cosmic metaphysical journey of comparative religion and other mythical, symbolic, metaphorical, and archetypal jaunts, but you chose to journey with us. And so yes welcome to our open sleigh. And Stella mentioned chronological: The Zodiac can be superimposed onto any time frame. The course of a day. Twelve signs Twelve hours. A year obviously as you know. But also a lifetime, your lifetime. But also that of all creation. But it also fits other patterns of time, other stories, other journeys. It matches the roll out of the bible for instance. And separately, it certainly fits the Jesus story specifically. And something Stella said really bears repeating. That people…what if living a life well is the same as achieving enlightenment. And maybe following some belief system, like astrology for instance. And just doing your best.

Where Leo the lion is about personal sovereignty and nobility, the natural monarch of any given jungle. Sagittarius is about power on a grand scale, Jupiter the largest planet is named for the supreme leader of the gods, the omnipotent sky god emperor, Greek Zeus, armed with lightening mutable fire in the sky. He only fears one other. His wife

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.

Sagittarius 28° (December 19)

There is no more room in my schedule for screwing up. So I’m just going to plow forward and do some timed writing for the next couple hours. The new lawyer is slow to the game. I have maintained speed and efficacy of the blogs. Pretty much up to date on everything actually I want to go over all of the tourist man I’ve written so far and start getting some more information down still early days but I’m already sensing how things can be different going forward with all new chapters same time I did bring up the chapters I had drafted up to speed so that’s cool. David formula came back into the picture because Cynthia finally wrote me back well she wouldn’t have seen my correspondence so it’s not like she was ignoring me anyway I will come to realize in the end that maybe it’s better to have contact with Cynthia than with David in any case I mean he’s always been a jerk let’s face it. I got into this whole thing with alright a for Aries man which is pretty cool I kind of forgot now what I did for Aries woman but I’ll have to go back and look at that . I need to speak a little bit louder I guess if I want this dictate thing to freaking work. OK so I am in the process of many things I have everything to the lawyers , I have begun going through the basement and the attic and those are not euphemisms. I’m getting a handle on all my earthly possessions. We’ve been making lovely meals and having a good holiday time I have everything up to date in terms of my finances and I am in the book which is very good news so if I could just keep up some kind of pace and all should be quite dandy with the solstice and moving forward through the Holidays into our famed second semester when all the sacrifices the sensual sacrifices are made I think that’s probably enough for today 

The following blocks of text are exceprts from my first year of  Blagues, nos. 1311-1315. 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.

It’s probably a good thing to have one’s Blague entry written before nine a.m.; though today I am getting a slower start than usual. I have to really put all the pieces together today. You know how sometimes the through lines and check list points seems so clear; and then almost the next instant things feel a jumble and a swirl. I definitely need to emerge with a clearer perspective today, one hinged on the fact that I won’t be able to hit every mark but I must jump in anyway. I won’t bore you with the details of what needs to happen today to successfully get things well on track. But ’twill be a lot. The trick is always checking the things you want to do least off the list and not to productonate, as I call it. Just looking back at the Blagues over this past month—it’s a combination to-do list and a rummaging through of feelings which of late have been outsized and swirling. (I will thus title today’s piece with that).

So the busy boring stuff will include a dump run, food preparation, putting together a list of calls and emails and orders needing making. I will distract myself with correspondence. From December 15 I will do the Annual Fortnight of Final Fundraising. Peepers, Chloe (only I know what that means. I have this Excel sheet in my mind and I know I have the charm to launch an effective offensive. Everything nice and slow, let Saturn be exalted in Libra; helpful as Libras can jump from thing to thing. I digress. Today will be Tetchy Tuesday too because we are getting into actual rehearsals now these next two weeks out which is plenty of time for a piece like ours.

Apollo. A little too pretty. A little to ethereal. Lofty. The liberal of the Zodiac. The coastal democrat. The debate. That is Libra. Two sides. Balance. And yes also tension. The winds. Movements. Feeling the pain of others and seeking to champion them. Identifying with the other. And if you do this you see the downtrodden. Gandhi, Lech Welesa, Eleanor Roosevelt, Judge Judy. Libra wants to see wrongs righted, but it requires identifying them without getting lost in the mess, the mire of just how much injustice there is. Disappointment is the sign’s shadow side after all.

Gemini the pluck. Ironic since there is bird energy. Our thoughts can go from Heaven to Hell. Angel Devil. Earthly Divine. Mortal Immortal. Gemini: Poppy Bush constant letter writers. Norman Vincent Peale. There is so much to say that I could fill a book.

I really want to look upon so-called setbacks or, what, rejections, even, as opportunities. I would like to illustrate to myself that things can be righted. These things might include relationships. Actually now that I come to think about it everything is relationships. If I want to activate different parts of our business, for instance, it really does come back to what relationship I have with that certain sector. Interesting the thoughts that occur to you in the process of writing about them. I think Christopher Reeve’s quote about Hope and Possibility is terrifically true. Oh and I have to prove to myself that I can do the solo thing in the midst of the tandem, a terrible challenge to the Libra; but at least I have youth and beauty on my side, ha ha. It’s like a tell people. Don’t lament procrastination just live longer.

At some point I have to become my own archivest. That is a crucial thought. I also have such such such a wealth of new astrological ideas that another book is inevitable. I have to gather all I have done in order to do what I will do. I’ve been doing it all along in that light. I am referring to the Blague alone; never mind everything else I’ve ever written in notebooks into documents buried in folders. Anyway, if we can make this new venture work out of the gate (which I’m determined to do) then I know I will have the luxury of time. Meanwhile there are things on my reclamation list—tennis, skiing, yoga, guitar, voice lessons—that I’m determined to explore ongoingly—upcoming jewelry course for starters—that I want to relax into in what I hope will be a banner year ahead. We have to get out from under all this global bullshit, unscathed. Here is praying that will happen.

Today will forever go down as the day when we started to figure out the product line. We now have a framework that will free us to create, within and without it, now and later. I didn’t know I was waiting for a breakthrough of sorts here but wow is it ever welcome. It makes me realize what work we can do while waiting on things we can’t control. I also have such a clear idea now of what to tell a designer and I see it very visually, almost, the whole thing, like wallpaper which makes me feel very excited, inspired. Ah yes inspired was one of the words I wanted to add to a page of writing somewhere instead of another word I have in its place.

I will get to the piano today which is good. Then Matt will have everything he’ll need, music direction wise, for the next fortnight. I need tell him that attached are links to songs and a Score document that has screenshots of chords/tabs I saw online in order. And here are some thoughts. Star of Wonder: that the first song has option of tempo change. Catch the Wind doesn’t sound like the only key I see it in anywhere on line (I know sometimes recording can do that). Happy to do as per Score doc but have a listen. We could consider guitar here. The recording of 3rd song seems to match the chords in the Score doc. I think works for S + me. Cool Change recording also matches Score doc. In simple terms in chorus, S + I have chosen a thirds-ish harmony you can maybe add your voice to? Winter score also matches the recording. I think ok for me. Two Thousand Mile: You have no changes. This Mess We’re In TK. Key seems okay for us. Jill of All Trades recording seems to match Score doc. Think key ok for S. Wind Cries Mary/Think It’s Going to Rain same. Fairy Tale: same. Don’t Give Up (help me): same. The Secret O’ Life, S. is singing but it’s not in the right key. I would say that if you wanted to make any piano recordings of songs for us to practice with the priorities might be Bigmouth Strikes Again, Secret O’Life and maybe a snippet of This Mess We’re In.

Getting a slow start today for sure. I stayed up really late by myself just being all sorts of indulgent sitting by the fire, fell asleep there and woke up freezing at 5:30 AM and never fell back to sleep which is fine. I’ll make it an early night tonight. So long as I get three hours in today before we work together I should be in good shape. A fortnight to go and I think I’m getting my brain around killing it. I feel a bit exorcised of demons who have been daunting me these past years; nothing like new magic to clear out the cobwebs on that score. And speaking of which I think I finally stumbled onto what looks like a path through the brambles that I might be able to tread. After so many years of not focusing on what will for me be a solo path, with a machete mind in hand, I’m ready to play catch up (which isn’t really a thing when it comes to this). I am being purposely cryptic, so don’t worry that you’re not getting it. It seems that areas of my life are falling into place while I struggle to stay on track with the work at hand. I guess this is something of a lesson in letting go. Definitely a lesson I need to learn. All I ask is to be equal to the tasks at hand. And to have fun in the process. That is “killing it” enough I suppose.

I have to trust myself on timing with everything anyway. I set things up and then I get so lost in the anticipation of them that I find it difficult to live and function fully in the moment. Today is a great day to turn this sort of thing right around. Snowy. Too cold out to go for the daily constitutional (well not really but it makes a good excuse). Anyway today is day one of fourteen where I will be putting five hours a day into a certain creative project, at whatever hours I clock them—even if I wake in the middle of the night as I am wont to do—and it is also my Summer Stock diet, named for the film of the same name in which Judy Garland looks far heavier than usual, for most of it, and then from which she took a two week “vacation” to slim down dramatically for the Get Happy number. Only my diet will not consist of cigarettes and amphetamines; well, not exclusively anyway. The recipe should be fairly simple: Now that I am “in” to the work I will stay in. And that new “path” I was talking about is going to be my way of staying the course just like H.W. said—I’m sick to death of the revisionisty eulogizing of that overpriveleged creep. I think he wanted to get into Maureen Dowd’s pants to be honest. You know he wasn’t regularly just servicing Barbara’s bush. That’s rude I know but I’m in a mood, in case you haven’t noticed.

I’m finally at the heiroglyphs stage of my creative work. You are wondering what that means, well ok. Sometimes I write things out in full sentences and then go back and insert little drawings of myself in certain “actions”; it is the actor in me that does this and have done this since my early days in NYC when I was a promising young actor. That career went nowhere. Fast. Or slow. But I still manage to get myself on a stage. Funny that. I have been in a kind of weird mental space these last few days. I think it happens every year around this time.

Finished script and getting songs and text in my body. To be honest I’m in a crunchy time where I’m doubting myself again. I try to be so optimistic and believe that each day will be different (not to mention each year) but I can’t help feeling I’m living the definition of insanity. I think because I crammed as a kid studying I tend to repeat that behavior, always playing chicken with myself to a certain degree. I can only hope that I have nipped this in the bud enough before we set off on a two week journey. I’m curious to know what the timeline will be with all that we have rolling in (and planning to roll out); but as I’m intimating here I truly do need to keep my head screwed on ultra tight. It takes discipline and it takes being somewhat kinder to myself than I typically am this time of year. I don’t know what kind of effect the larger backdrop of worldwide dysfuction—Brexit, Trumpworld, Paris riots—is having on all of us, myself included.

It’s hard to be funny right now I guess is what I’m saying. I’m not feeling inspired to write jokes at this juncture that’s for sure. I’m so grateful for the ability, nay the luxury, to even be typing this. Tomorrow I will have some time alone and I think it’s probably a good thing, so I can plow through some organizational things and even just get some plain ol’ cleaning of house underway. The day started out weird in that I lost my readers. They just disappeared. I thought I brought them with me to the store (so as to see) but when I got to my destination I didn’t have them. I figured I left them at home but no. So I am now wearing broken glasses which will make working rather challenging over the next several days between now and when my new glasses (I just ordered) arrive.

We had a short rehearsal today and I could feel exhaustion starting to move in on me. I actually skipped dinner which I had actually cooked. So I will make some fishcakes from the cod and potatoes I cooked. It is a boring post today but I’m feeling rather thinned out. I know I can regain my energy and strength this weekend if I can just take a little break. I am totes dedicated to killing it for the rest of 2018. There is plenty on our plate still to complete in the next twenty some odd days. Can do.

Sometimes you don’t choose a day off it chooses you. Besides getting a little cleaning done I just couldn’t look at any work today. For starters, not having eyeglasses is definitely a deterrent. I suppose it might have been foolish on my part not to make the most of the hours I had to myself but I’m just really wiped out and more than anything I needed to catch up on just some simple home work. If you’re reading the less than earth-shattering Blagues over these past few days, you may sense I’m not that creatively inspired and I don’t have a lot to say. These are the times in the past when I would just not bother showing up to write anything, but then I get behind and it tends to make me feel a bit depressed. So at the risk of boring the pants off of everybody (or anybody) I’m just going to sit here and type stuff. I guess I should be grateful that I had a forced shutdown; my sinuses are always a barometer for being run down; and they are a bit achy breaky right now. So I know I need to slow it up.

I haven’t been on social media, like at all, and I need to get back out there doing some end of year promotion. I just get so disheartened on social media. Everyone in their wee corners facing out, cameras on them. Nobody seems to take anything in; or care to help one another it seems to me. It isn’t about connection at all but a sort of serial isolation; which I can’t help but think mirrors the wider isolationism associated with populism and the larger context of the world right now which seems in such terrible disarray. But where I could go down a rabbit hole I resent having to do so, thus I won’t. It’s just not worth it. Now is about rallying forces and pulling some rabbits out of hats.

I did manage to do another round of eblasts as need be; focusing on show and then I’ll focus back on books. But much of my morning (like most days) is negotiating the idiosyncrasies of living life as we do so remotely out on Cape Cod. Like, for instance, we have no dishwasher. Also any white clothing wash comes out blue. Iron in the pipes that erodes the copper of the pipes? That is the prevailing theory anyway. Also we separate our plastics from glass from paper from trash (which leaves very little trash) the organic bits of which we can compost; and so the trunk of my old Mercedes is like a way station en route to the next dump run; and as we rarely have any trash to speak of, when it does accumulate, it will so in a tiny white bags which we then call “carbage” and there is a note, on the kitchen blackboard, reminding us to take any carbage with us when we might be passing a public trash bin. Remember there is no food in it so you don’t need to lecture. Okay, maybe there is the odd chicken carcass but they are few and far between. We will “store” any such discards in the freezer and we will properly dump trash at the dump in the designated purple bags if we have a sudden large accumulation of it.

It can all be very OCD making which, when added to all the bits and bobs I must tackle in the normal course of any day can indeed lead to some pretty partcicular behavior on my part. I just got the most violent urge for fish and chips if you can believe it. Why wouldn’t you be able to believe it? Growing up we had an Arthur Treachers near where we lived summers at the Jersey Shore. So many versions of my lives. So many larger acts for large spates of years that evoke such feeling and are not only faded but so completely lost never to be recaptured in any way shape or form.

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.

Sagittarius 26° (December 18)

The Melissa McCarthy film (directed by her husband) is the worst shite. And The Flight Attendant is barely good. 

Mars as Id. Mars in Cap. Classy in the raw. Mars filtered through Capricorn takes that objectifying Id energy and edifies it, such that the primal energy of the planet continuously spars the enduring endurance. Cap’s warrior spirit. Anyway, it isn’t where I was really going with this today. It is probably more difficult for the Ram man than it is for any other character in the Zodiac to negotiate partnerships, or even the very concept of other, significant or otherwise. So designed are you, Aries, to gain, have and maintain the proverbial edge—there’s that word again—over others, competition for survival cum dominance being encoded in your cosmic DNA, that finding a blendship with friends, let alone a lifelong infatuation, is challenging in the extreme. Cue that Lancelot song once more: His, and indeed your proclaiming your superiority packaged as simple honesty can be off-putting at best. And here’s where etymology starts to bring some theorizing all together: If you were to look up arete in your online dictionary the first word to pop up would likely be spelled with a circumflex, like this: arête, which means a sharp mountain ridge, again, recalling that razor’s edge. The second thing you’d probably see is the upper-case proper noun Arete, which is a Greek principle of excellence and moral virtue. Marrying these thoughts together, to excel, and to be exemplary, is to have the edge. Arete was typically assigned to heroes and nobles, as ever the twain meets in mythology—it shares the same root as the word aristocracy—while an aretology is a narrative about divine or superior being’s miraculous deeds. Though he may have been suspected of possessing it at the start of his story, one would not say that Jason had Arete in the end. For, it is about living up to one’s full potential and fulfilling individual purpose, drives that live in every Aries man. It is also linked to the Greek verb araomai meaning to pray, contemplation being considered the most sublime of human abilities to Aristotle and his pals. Of course the name Aristotle also shares the same root, and fittingly means “the best of all,” aristos totalis. 

The following blocks of text are exceprts from my first year of  Blagues, nos. 1306-1310. 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.

This time of year memories of different Christmas times come flooding back; well maybe not memories themselves but the feelings that were associated with this time or that in the past. Today I am feeling the vague, bleak loneliness of Cambridge in 1986 when I worked at the Harvest in Harvard Square. There was a cold, damp emptiness inside me for months and perhaps years on end. I clung to three or four friends for constant comfort in between work times; I partied with co-workers to ease the pain at the end of every shift. I supposed most people were doing likewise but I think back now and wonder if perhaps I was one of the only small group of individuals who didn’t have anything better to do than wait tables, party and try to have sex or avoid doing it through the vapid haze of repetitive quotidian nothingness. It’s a feeling of which I feel remnants, always, when I’m in New England. I feel similar emptinesses other places, all of which can see me courting some form of oblivion or other. You see, when you’re (not) parented in such a way where you are left to your own devices, unsupervised in the extreme, for years on end, you tend to get used to this sort of dreamstate existence of life. For me this was especially true growing up summers when I would wake whenever and pad down stairs barefoot in just gym shorts and a beach badge; and maybe head straight out of the house in the morning heat to the beach or boardwalk and just be in this fog of nothingness, maybe stoned and fourteen at 10AM in the morning haze where I felt set on a different speed than the multitutdes around me jockeying for parking spaces and blanket space as the sun pinged of everything chrome. The first smell of burgers frying in one of the boadwalk food stands; stepping on a half used ketchup packet.

It strikes me now that I could feel lost and oblivious in crowds of sunburned daytrippers, loud and smoking each with their own radio set to do battle with their temporary neighbors in the sandbox. Beats from cars, whistles from lifeguard stands, Coppertone and Hawaiian Tropic. So now when I have great feats of courage to perform, really or figuratively, there is always a part of me (and days at a time) where I rebel, I escape, I cave in, I self-deny and, yes, -destruct, taking to my bed immobilized by the challenges I set forth for myself. And I vacillate between this quiet form of sabotage and a brand of euphoria that comes from imagining it all happening in such a way. That is the only feeling to chase because it is more than a feeling it is an experiment in active faith. It’s all about getting beyond apologies.

I’m on two days now of really bad sleeping, waking up almost immediately around midnight and staying up all through it. Again, it’s because of the internal struggle going on with confronting self in light of projects at hand. But I am determined to make it part of the process. I also really haven’t eaten much these last two days which I’m not that worried about to be honest. I think on some level I know I’m in need of a bit of a fast and, without planning it, I just sort of fell into what might constitute that. But it isn’t the healthiest of methods. Honestly, my stomach hasn’t felt the same since England. I always seem to pick up some kind of Dickensian something while there, like a staff infection or the rickets or consumption. This time it felt a bit like typhoid to my over imaginative mind. And yet I have never been in better shape gearing up for what comes, year after year, this season. I am determined to have a whole helluva lot more fun this year than in previous ones.

We’ve had our tree for over a week and still only have white lights on it which is nice. It’s still drinking but it is losing some needles now. We will spend so much time away over the holidays—I must admit I get a secret thrill from that thought because, if you know me you know I could live in hotels for the rest of my life. I know it sounds hyperbolic but it ‘aint. Well I kind of feel like that tree. What do I mean by that? That I peaked too early and now I’m tired and losing needles. It should really all be so much simpler than I make it; at least that’s the prevailing opinion hanging in the air around here. And yet, the amount of creative output I do achieve is pretty legendary I think. I see others struggling with the same old projects and months and months pass; and despite the slog I encounter I do manage to get a great deal done with the least amount of grousing and the least amount of work for anybody else as I can possible affect. In fact I’m kind of a martyr that way I will admit.

George Bush I died. I know I shouldn’t be suckered by the likes of Andrea Mitchell and other supposedly progressive MSNBC type characters into a revisionist view of him; but, at the same time I can’t stand this knee-jerk liberal move to offer only good riddance. I know he wasn’t a moral saint who wanted a kinder America—I realize the thousand points of light thing was at least half a ploy. But he did work with Clinton and other democrats in the last twenty-five years; and I think he was far better than his scion; and he surely is better than the orange crap we have now. Anyway I just saw Brad Meltzer put up this long tribute. He whose career was in such large part made by gay men who really invested in him. Oh I don’t know what to think any more. Everything gets normalized. Oh well, I guess that’s the way the history cookie crumbles. Anyway, I can’t let Andrea Mitchell in black bum me out. I have stuff to do. I’ll just say I’m happy for members of the Bush family to have managed to live so long without consciences.

Oh well maybe we can stop talking about that dynasty now and focus on the dissolution of the present crime family. And I can get back to what can only be considered my excitement addiction. Tomorrow is back to Glow day which is fine. I think I’m sufficiently catching up in all my other arenas. “I hate that term,” (I paraphrase) is something I hear quite often; as often, at least, as I say it which is, well, often. The sustained spirit of elation that is the truest form of any euphoria is kept alive by diligance and determination for truth and goodness and honesty. If we just keep taking baby steps and human bites all should unfold pretty readily of its own accord. We are all the vessel and the vehichle. Certain enlightment would be achieved by the firing on all twelve cylinders. The creative part that makes my heart sing the most has to be the most constant throughline, the broadest band in my eternal width. That’s terrible.

Tomorrow I will catch up on all things Glow Festival which will be fun. I look forward to making some major inroads on that score in the next two months. Today, though, I start the process of getting the words into my brain. I’ve had a script for some time now but it’s sort of just an example of things I could say. I mean I will hit most marks anyway. It’s just a matter of how painful I allow the process to be which, I would like to say: not at all. It can all be turned into something way more pleasurable at this point and one of the other subjects I go on about so ad nauseum that I won’t even mention here is still an ongoing issue. Let’s just say I have success on that score in my sites. I’m sure I have some form of ADHD; I’m also pretty certain that this Blague was unconsciously/subconsciously designed to help me get over it. OMG, last year in February I realized I hadn’t written a single day’s entry since early October. Do you remember that? I had to catch up on five months. But I did it; and only slightly cheated a little here and there. Now I need to stay on topic which is the day.

There are so many ways to slice and dice the next few weeks of the year; and I do plan on entering 2019 with a renewed hope. I can’t get everything from any one. But I do think i can get a lot in the process by giving myself more time and space. Also in the offering of myself forgiveness. We used to have this expression, dating back to 1984/5 called “second semester” which is a blanket term to describe a sort of self-imposed ascetism and forgoing of such earthly pleasures that aren’t conducive to a little weight loss, the if only slight changing of hair and fashion style, plus an uptick in overall clarity as evidenced in part by a longlost glimpse in cheekbones and the reemerging of some semblance of a jawline.

Yesterday was pretty fun I must say. I wrote a lot in the morning and somewhere in the back of my mind I did want to get to the opening of the new Community Center Arts but I knew I wouldn’t likely make the actual ribbon cutting ceremony. I made a sort of delicious stew, with, well, stewed tomatoes, bok choy, chicken, cashew and some leftover browned sauce from the roast. It was delicious and filling. Anyway, I haven’t been going on about food simply because I haven’t really been in the kitchen as per usual. This time last year I remember doing so much with food but ever since I’ve removed potatoes, grains of all kind, and am trying to err on the keto side (not that I know if that’s even good for me) I was having more fun. I think I may have to go back to that a bit. Anyway, I’m not saying that my fun was fueled by legumes, which I also no longer eat, but it was creative to have more leeway in the kitchen. And besides what I’m trying to get to is that I’m getting a bit more turned on by the kitchen again and yesterday I floated the idea of cauliflower crust pizza and it went over really well and even included accompanying red wine so I did all the ingredient shopping, including cheescloth, for squeezing the liquid out of roasted riced cauliflower, and I got the wine, and I got to stop by the Community Center. And it was our first time really plowing through the show, songs foremost.

With all that’s going on in the world I still can’t get my brain around the timeline in the Mama Mia movies. Either Meryl Streep had Amanda Seyfried at 40 (which is doubtful since she had to hide the pregnancy from her peers and parents) or the Amanda Seyfriend character is actually aged 50. If we could negotiate this problem I think we can fix so much of what’s wrong with the world today.

Sorry about the above but sometimes certain thoughts occupy my brain. Anyway, it was fun to have a little break but broth now again replaces wine as the evening libation as I put body, mind and spirit into training mode leading up to the next high feast day. I did spend the day getting the tour-work moving and contacting folks at theaters on that score. I will (over the holidays not now) get a comprehensive document together listing all the possible venues and put a letter out there. I also hope to get myself into some board rooms for what will be the Boston based Glow Festival. If I can be a part of generating income for artists in the New England region that would be a very worthwhile endeavor. I hope that I will get equal support from venues and from artists. Such that I would communicate the fact that we are literally putting this together, from both sides.

I keep getting clues from the Universe, in any case, that we are on the right track. Twice I found items—a receipt, a photo—that dated back to our most original foray into the world of manufacturing. I even forgot that much of what we ended up doing in 2006 had its roots a decade, even, before that. It is therefore reassuring to remember that this has been a part of us for a long time; and there is a certain sense of reuniting with (your)self on this very subject. In a sense that it isn’t a fall-back plan by any stretch of the imagination, but that it is part and parcel of plan A. What is required in any form of plan A is the getting together, and keeping together, of oneself. This is a literal form of integrity. A mind-body-spirit form that is essential to the succesful achievement of anything really.

I don’t want to give the wrong impression with this post today because I’m not being negative or poor-pity-me in any sense of the word. In fact, I think the reason I can broach this subject is because I no longer carry the kind of sensitivity I once did regarding this: That if I were more well respected a figure I could get away with opinions I hold. I have often re-posted posts from Penny Arcade, for instance, which express my own ideas because she will get an outpouring of support for such positions as would invite ire by people if I were to do it. I am not a popular figure and that is just a fact; and people have seen me as an easy target for their own hate a phobis, especially in the downtown queer community where I have never had the acceptance that so-called straight folks have.

Alot of these people, performers in particular, get away with theft and murder daily and it never effects their standing. I cite Penny again here who will point out when artists are stealing from her or others; calling out the sycophants and the poseurs and those who are doing what they’re doing for attention not for the expression of their creativity, at least in a slanted ratio that neither she (nor I) find authentic. I have seen even my closest friends succomb to life lived inside the bubble of NYC’s limping downtown artistic scene. The truth is, too, that NYC is over. Well, Manhattan is over for sure. But all of it, really. I know this one actor (I will keep it genderless) for instance who is British and had houses bought for them in London and in Brooklyn and they have never had to work a day in their life and they comes from famous aristocratic and actor/writer parents and has been given (along with their partner who also has never worked a day in their life) every opportunity to “make it” now in their late forties as an actor; and all of that is fine except that people like this pose as down and out figures, faux hipsters, who look upon (and I would say down their noses) at the more hard-working and earnest people who, like Penny or myself or countless others, have never had a single thing handed to them in their life and who still create and not only that seek to elevate others who genuinely struggle in the process.

Every person I have known over the years (and there are many) who have gone on to secure fame as an performer, well, as an actor really, never had to lift a pinkie to do anything else but let their ships come in over the kind of calm seas that parental or grandparental or stepparental money could support. It is just the way it goes. I can think of singular exceptions but even they were groomed via Performing Arts High School and Julliard and the like. My parents were never going to give any amount for college if I studied any kind of art. It’s sad, and I wish it was different, but that’s the way it is. As it is I spent my whole adult life paying back the student loans they took out so really I paid for the education I didn’t choose. I wish I hadn’t thought this notion through because it actually makes me feel sick. Oh well, perish that thought; because, again, I am able to put this into words I think because I really have transcended much of the sensitivity I feel regarding the original point of this post—that some people will get praise for saying the very same words that invite hatred when I utter them. So yes getting away with theft (actually stealing other people’s creative ideas—I’m looking at you Taurus people ha—just kidding, sorta) and the murder of being total assholes and getting away with it because why? Because they have kissed their way up the asses of so many people over the years they now receive the same kind of treatment back. As for me, I will continue to drop it like I’m Penny.

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.

Sagittarius 25° (December 17)

Been up since three o’clock in the morning so today isn’t going to be the day I exactly imagined. By the same token I could surprise myself and get a bunch of work done before a client at three o’clock in the afternoon. I mean, it’s not impossible. And I have to keep this train on the track. And so it goes. I’ll add a bit here and there. we now understand that the divine power of Hestia is vast and multifaceted enough to be drawn upon by both signs: In the case of Leo, the historical fact that the virgin goddesses Hestia and Artemis (Roman: Diana) were the most beloved and widely worshipped for the longest period of time speaks to the fifth sign and house’s association with love given, passionate pursuits, symbolized by the hunt, as well being the center of attention, just as the sign’s ruler Sun is the fixed-fire center of the solar system, the sign’s rule of the heart is the center of the body and the hearth the center of the home. But the hearth, the word to which Hestia translates, is also akin to the kiln and thus fits the Virgo mold of the fiery furnace, the molten core of mutable-, in this case, upper-case Earth. Hestia is the very model of humility, the flipside of Leo pride, just as Virgo, the sign which follows Leo, is an antidote to the excess hubris of that spotlight-seeking sign. Once enthroned as one of the twelve Olympians, Hestia willingly abdicates this position to the youngest of the gods, the half-mortal Dionysus, when he shows up on the scene, taking a new position tending the round, central fireplace around which the gods’ thrones circle. In one sense we can see this move as a loss, a literal disappointment, befitting the larger Virgo theme, and yet it is an expression of the exact opposite: Hestia has the power of her throne to bestow upon another, changing the larger alchemy of this divine dynamic, ushering in a new cosmic order. She loses nothing really because her gains exceed whatever she ceded. She thus becomes the most revered, and most often, deity in the pantheon, as every household hearth is sacred to her, and every quotidian aspect of domestic life is offered up to her, home fires kept burning, just as she stokes the eternal flame in heavenly halls where she dwells. Dethroned, she becomes enshrined ubiquitously, a household saint whose divinity is accessible and ever present. Just as she is first born of the Olympians, it is she who receives the first offering of every ritual sacrifice. Everyone’s everyday move is thus dedicated to her, the living of a simple human life and all that entails in every detail is suffused with her divine power, routine transformed to ritual devotion in imitation of her own cosmic function. This spiritual superpower belongs to the estate of the Virgo woman, specifically. By example, you have the special sauce necessary to show the rest of us how to view the every-day sixth-house necessities—the work, the functions, the so-called chores and services needing rendering, and to see them not as sources of dread but rather as the simple gifts and opportunities, as tools, for building an increasingly better life, day by day. It is your ability, Virgo, to actively participate in the mechanics of living with a willing sense of devotion, that elevates your own sense of experience, foremost, and, in turn other, others’.

The following blocks of text are exceprts from my first year of  Blagues, nos. 1301-1305. 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.

I seem to have slept on my face. I have a vague recollection of burying it into the corner of the sofa. I have been falling asleep like a stone these last several days, a welcome relief to the hard-pounding insomnia one has sometime suffered. But the inside of mouth was actually numb, a result, I surmise, of nerves being temporarily messed by a razor thin line my lower teeth had cut perfectly horizontally inside and under my lower lip. Later it will twitch uncontrollably. This day feels like a loveable mess, almost a personification of one you might assign that label. It was an Oscar rather than a Felix day. I didn’t so much do a lot as get very organized despite the scene set for certain sloth and the laziness with which my character actually participated. I have been in a sort of funny failure to launch mode meets extinction burst of premature holiday living. That is a bud which must be nipped. It is all too easy to fall into a “well it’s the holidays” head; statistics show people eat way to much between Thanksgiving and New Year’s; I for one do not intend to fall into that kind of culinary trap. Luckily, the kitchen isn’t the focus here and I haven’t been my typical foody self for quite a while. I mean I still cook gorgeous meals but I don’t go overboard like a once did. It’s just the two of us so much of the time I need to keep things simple. When we’re back in more a city environment I’ll be entertaining more and that is always fun but also creatively inspiriting on the cooking front.

One of the major nuts I want to crack this coming year is that of our traditional publishing life. I have a thousand ideas regarding self-publishing; but separate from that I need to work some magic with some larger company with which I can make a sexy deal. That is definitely high on the priority list. I do need to limit what is on my to-do list; and really focus on certain things, exclusively, during various monthly periods. It is indeed all possible and I look forward to further forays into all the projects I’ve started over the years, taking a more executive approach to them all. It really must be the year of execution, a word with such an unfortunate double entendre. Perhaps exeuction is a Capricorn word. Only people who know that I think in twelve categories knows what that means.

Well it seems very likely that I will catch up to myself in due course today. Indeed if I can keep up writing like this —sorry to wax meta—I could be in good stead starting tomorrow and then, perhaps, for all time. The point is that I have zero time to waste. I neglected to mention that we bought a Christmas tree the day after Thanksgiving. How normalized are we? It fit perfectly in the dining room and we have just put lights on it. Something about a tree with just lights can seem more beautiful than with the full ornaments package. I’m not sure I’m ready to go there to be honest. The purity is the thing. And right now purity comes in the form of little white lights. Although they do look kind of greenish to be honest. Oh well, I figure it will help us in the creation of the show this year. Speaking of which I’ve got to write a press release and get the show talked about places!

There are always going to be would-be anxieties that one can quell by deferring even the slightest catastrophizing, something I wonder if the British spell with an S. Case in point traveling to NYC to directly attend a rehearsal. It will be done, and can be done. If you just allow for some air. Most things work out. And also I will be able to finish the draft of this show today by 1PM rehearsal and I’ll go over my checklist of things as I go through. And keep all other relevant notes handy as well. Some days you just have to be more the managing editor than writer-creator; the show isn’t that earth-shatteringly important. It jus is what it is. But what it is can be much more fun, far more stressless and seamless an affair. At least that’s what I’m going for. I’m bringing the elegance back on many levels this holiday season. Join me won’t you?

It starts today with the writing of the second half of the show. I have to remind myself that I’m not actually going to say pretty much anything that is written on the page, or all of it, or some combination of elements on the page with new stuff flying into my brain. This is the first step toward increased autonomy in the performance. The show is about your own enlightenment which, hey, we might as well give it a shot, right. I want to be very clear about stuff. And succinct; and I want, especially, to speak with authority. I am not a kook. There are no kooks here.

There is a new study out about cannibis and cognitive development and how young people should not, repeat should not, do weed to early as it might actually wire them for addiction as THC is addictive. I was how old? Fourteen when I first tried the stuff. That is in fact young but oh well too late now. I never truly enjoy smoking weed with other people anyway. It seems so funny now that it is legal. I still don’t know how one would go about buying any. The whole thing seems kind of mysterious that way I suppose. Funny how when something like this occurs, by the time it does I mean, you really don’t care. One of these days I suppose I’ll try an edible. I haven’t had the opportunity yet so far.

I’ve been wanting for ages to Google: whatever happened to Percy Weasley. Apparently the answer is nothing. He’s been around the whole while. Woops. Oh well. What am I supposed to do about the fact I don’t know everything about you know who. At some point I will circle back and read all the books again. I’m waiting for second childhood to do so. I want to do a lot more reading overall in any case that’s for certain. I stare at all the books in this house and thing sheesh I’ll never get through them all. And I won’t. It’s very possible I’m not living life correctly. I want to limit the number of mistakes moving forward I can tell you that. I am grateful for the removal of obstacles to my good these days. I do believe I am doing the heavy lifting.

It is Monday and just over three weeks to our upcoming show. I think we are in good shape considering everything else we’re juggling. Today might be another day of shifting sands where, if I don’t do first things first, they really won’t get done. I know I can be way more functional than even I’m being. Honestly, and people must relate to this, I vacillate between thinking myself to be a prolific and functional producer of works, goods, services and ideas; othertimes I feel like I’m just treading water. I never consider myself a procrastinator. I am by definition a productonator, I get a lot of necessary things done (that would need to get done in any case) as a form of procrastinator from the any one thing I “should” be doing at any given time. I also just plain old spook myself getting started on things; I bust out with this feeling that I’m not ready to do it or something. When it’s best to just rip off the bandaid.

I’m looking at some stuff on my desk, various scribblings, that I should record lest I lose them for life. Lussier Clark Rudin Lecesne Gavin Pete Arsenault Tobin Caddell Mimi Peter Belsky Tranie Joshua Greene Mimi Caryn Roman Renata Nathalie Keller Kohlhaas Ruby Tyler Roland Performers, Birthday List, Clever ways to get books and tickets cooking. Lance Zecca Clever list O’ Comps purchased tickets. Trey Heather Randall Bartlett O’Brian Both Brendas Romy Phil People in NYC Nancy Shayne Amy Phoebe Lishansky Forke Dax Fourrat Gene James Bagluth Pesakoff Trip’s List Welcome Shoppe Catland Nasser Sammy River Cote Joshua Fried Fraioli Adam Nelson Brooklyn crowd. Parker, Frankie, Bretty, Nicky, Sean, Clients Book fans Edsel Tatiana Katz Ira Oberon Steve Ross and some high gloss. Tyrnauer Styles section. Maura, Schecter, Fancy, actors Tia Wu. I would love to own a nightclub—it is actually one of my dreams. It could actually be one of those older life goals that I’m now doing everything for. To own a nightclub and sleep all day until someone drags you out of bed to exercise your carcass, or to fall into a heated pool like the one at One Aldwych in London, my favorite pool experience of them all. I would model it on the Napoleon, in any case, with two sound-proofed cabaret rooms, ideally. But surely one. I have to play big in Boston and kanoodle with some money guys. This will dovetail with my fundraising in any case.

Back home here in reality: I have to get back into the hot room. Aries man is most cut and dry. Aries woman is most cut and run. Aries are realists. Combine these new notes with the musings notes (chapter openers) for fodder for Next drafts and weed out repeats from Sext. Woman biggest brat. All about realness. Next could be in second person. 24 Slim volumes. Once you’ve done the larger chunks of people, then you can start the process of profiling who will be doing what. Memo on the other two-thirds investment. “Going back to go forward” not sure why that came up.

I spent hours (longer than I thought) on the phone with Nats last night. I can’t tell you all we talked about but I do remember getting pretty deep into stuff. I needed to do that apparently but I always wonder if I go too far and am too honest with people and don’t reserve enough. I feel uneasy today so I’m chalking that up to the chat plus just feeling generally strung out. I am aimed at simplicity today, to have a simple talk through until 11AM at which point I will transition and get ready for Brad. I would like to keep that to an hour….which I was able to do. We had client and didn’t get back into the show which is fine as I’ll have much of the day tomorrow on my own to really dig in and get some rehearsal hours under my belt.

We had a substantive chat this morning about what the right first moves are in getting this operation up and running. And then the dictionary dot com word of the day was “atelier”; it doesn’t get more cosmic than that I don’t think. I trust us to make informed decisions regarding what it “all” should be about, how and when. First it has to happen and this strange limbo period is probably totally normal and just a matter of course; but as this is all new territory for me, and I’m constantly living with PTSD, my challenge is to not only live in the moment without holding my breath which I have been doing; it is allowing other action to continue even though it will feel so good to make certain sacrifices when the time arises.

I am giving myself the next five days to get completely “off book” with the script such as it is so that I can reach in all different directions in the execution of the project; I also want to have plenty of time for other things, chief among them, relaxation. My viscera is asking me to take it easy diet wise. It wants to be itself a clean slate. That’s what we all want at the end of the year, really, isn’t it? For me I just have to avoid losing steam and looking for opportunities of escape. This is an inherited trait, of this I’m sure. And it’s not that healthy. So I have to discipline myself to stay connected with others. A life of typing into one’s own laptop in the privacy of their home for decades on end is conducive to isolation. I used to say that I felt like a Reses monkey, separated into its owncage, when it came to social situations and the anxiety I’ve always suffered on that score. I’ve always found ways, thus to hide, even in plain sight.

I got lost again today. I hate that. My locomotion went off the rails which is really a bummer. I know I have fear, nerves surrounding certain projects that push all my buttons; but you know what it is still two and a half weeks and I am going to work pretty steadily around the current project and its promotion. I have to consider the fact that putting myself out there, say, on a stage is something worth honoring in and of itself. I’m not the best singer in the world and I’m not a comedian (perhaps I’m a casual one but surely not a cultivated one) but I feel I do have a message and a why of putting even songs across that is unique; and moreover, I can isolate in myself “the place’ where this is all coming from and the latent power and longing for expression that lurks in that deep purple place; the trouble is that it is a treasure surrounded by a dragon, demons. But that is the fight worth fighting I feel and once isolated in this way it does change perspective. I am fine and I have plenty of time and I need to take the words and music by the balls instead of getting lost in moments of pleasure.

The zodiac is forever revealing things to me about life. Taurus, even the symbol is ironic in that it more expresses the view that this “feminine” sign has as the white heifer in myth, the world is the Bull, the fertilization of this fixed-earth, garden sign. Taurus is so other orientated that its very sign symbol is colored by the fact. I have always had this need to figure out a logical explanation for this being a “feminine” sign with so masculine a sigil (a word made more mainstream by Game of Thrones).

I get homesick for London more than I do Paris which is strange. Not that I would necessarily want to set up home or shop there. I think that would be nightmarish given the experience we’ve had working at a magazine there and dealing with estate agents and such—talk about bullshit. (We were—I refer to the Taurus discussion.) And yet, especially around Christmas, I feel this massive tug toward England; no doubt due to the fact that we did spend a number of Christmasses ourselves there with our adoptive sprawling family. Sometimes it was just easier, anyway, to live someone else’s life; it was not fun or rewarding but only heart- and soul-wrenching to be with my own family for the most part where I never felt safe. I replicated those kinds of relationships, especially the one that began in 1985 and ended in 2014. It’s so weird how things that seem so traumatic are so eye opening—like the move from Scorpio to Sagittarius, the dragon of the former sign merging with the human into a lizard king or queen of phantasmagorical proportion. The merger of the animal, or even demon, with the human.

I’ve decided that mornings should be for procrastination by another name or term. Going back to the British conversation, when I worked there I noticed nobody did anything all day long until like, say 4PM, in a frenzy, before they headed to the pub by 7 the latest. It always drove me crazy that they could be so lax in the American view; now I realize that they were just living a pretty solid truth: that work does happen in bursts and to sustain a spate of post lunch focused fury (where one may have already had two beers plus a double coffee) might be all anyone could deliver in a given day; that is IF you’re living a life, as they do more whan we Americans do, where the focus isn’t on doggedly purusing some American dream, then why wouldn’t you relax more in to your actual day. I think it’s time to try this; minus the two beers and double coffee.

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.

Sagittarius 24° (December 16)

So I’m full on using the dictate function and it isn’t always terribly accurate which is fine because I think it makes for funny reading when the words get messed up or mashed together. We spent last evening listening to asna vore and found this great Liza minelli Charles aznavur recording from 1991 and you can always tell from the way she sings cabaret if she inserts the word not before going like else that she’s in a sober phase which she obviously was and looked pretty much the same as she did in 1970. Dinner was a fun veg plate of hummus and rice and bok choy and of Ocado and sweet potatoes and that was really yummy. As I think I mentioned yesterday it’s been very dark on the Hill and I haven’t seen hide nor hair of signor ******* so I don’t know I keep fantasizing about things I shouldn’t but I did end up sending that note to the new council and the screenshot that Tony sent me I no if you’re reading this you’ll have no idea what I’m talking about but that’s kind of what this year is all about as I am fischli now writing a book officially not fischli whatever officially means I know it officially means I said whatever officially means never mind. I don’t know why I feel strangely optimistic today after so many dark ones and I have this sick headache that comes from impending snowfall pop I don’t know I think it’s just a matter of feeling on the right side of things knowing that if you are in the right and you’re comporting yourself honestly that really nothing can go awry knock wood. We started the day well I started the day catching up on the Bee Gees documentary which is quite good I relate to Barry Gibb being the sole survivor God knows if I even have a sibling anymore specially in this pandemic but given our history I just can’t risk ever opening that door again. I suffered so much growing up because of that non relationship that I’ve just never will put that I’ll never put myself through that again if you take my meaning. We have our Christmas lights , the tree is up and probably will stay up for most of January I’m going to really focus on getting us fit as I can during the month so I could head any bad diagnosis for lack of a better word off of the pass. I quite enjoyed pennyworth first season it’s very slick and kind of sexy and the girl that plays love interest is the same actress who portrayed Diana in the Crown this season so that was interesting but mainly the main actor who plays Alfred it’s just really fun and enjoyable to watch being the long tall drink of water he is and yeah other than that just trying to move things along here not get to way late I know momentum will be on my side once I really start working those things and so yeah that’s the plan. 

The following blocks of text are exceprts from my first year of  Blagues, nos. 1296-1300. 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.

Capricorn is really all about atonement. I use I don’t waste I save! In every sense of the word. At winter solstice a goat, the scape goat, was loaded with baggage representing sin and sent forth from the village. Capricorn people know about being Scapegoated…

Arrestation. What do you do with the power you amass. Containment. Incarceration. Penance. Resource. Convention. Faith awaitng Fate. Saturn, the dpeosed king whom Jupiter usurped. The golden age, the past paradise lost. Tradition that which must be preserved, like strawberries, put up, stored, vs. what to put out to pasture if not imprison or otherwise contain. The energy of renunciation. Jesus is ultimately arrested. Preservation. Renunciation. Resource. Refinement. Retirement. retreat. Reprieve. Retribution. On a pilgrimage, taking up ones begging bowl, if not the. Heirophant coming up against Church. If things are Church they are established. They are law. Sanctuary and Imprisonment.

Saturn deposed king whom Jupiter put down. He ruled the golden-age, a utopia, pointing to traditions that must be preserved. Cap people know what it’s like tobear the mountainous weight of the world upon them but the upshot is the reprieve that provides. Capricorn is all about Faith and Forgiveness. On the flipside they…hold grudges?

Jury duty today and I decided to do it up. Got a lot of writing done. The judge came out and lectured a bit about having a bad attitude about doing this—I kept thinking he read my “questionaire” where I was a bit cranky. Oh, well. Duty served and speech free. Trum has no idea that he’s in Paradise (lost) California. Anyway I got a lot of writing in the two and one half hours there. I flash back to Carmel and to having a lovely luncheon; it was the same day I had a massive headache and I had to borrow an aspirin from a gallery owner who was very nice. This was our most recent trip I think. I’d just bought my Comme jacket with the red lining and sweat profusely in it walking to park and museum and back again; but it was fine; since I’ve been in torrential rain in it and the fabric never seems to get wet, or it immediately dries. (ha, ha: looks like Dries) Anyway…

Some notes on Aquarius:

Uranus is radical energy in creates new orders, new universes of experience, pointing at the veils of other dimensions. Aquarian people are the XMen of the Zodiac. The Greek cupbearer goddess is Hebe, meaning Youth, thus renewal, and Zeus’ boytoy Ganymede meaning to rejoice. Aquarius is the dipsensation of Joy and Renewal. Leo provides the warmth, gives life, to all she does. Aquarius is a distant star fixed air. Immutable Facts. Joy. Aquarian people go from Joy to Despair and back again.

John the Baptist, whose own demise forshadowed Jesuses. Fixed air. Conviction. Dying for them. A star, not the newly born burst of Aries The obvious link to the song is about being forsaken, out on a limb or in this case a cross, alone. Fixed air, the Star. Not the supernova birth of a star that Aries; but a dead and distant beacon calling across the expanse of time and space. Ruled by Uranus, named for the god of the Universe, the energy is radical divurgent, eccentric “out there”—looking for some connective tissue here and it’s not forthcoming—Aquarian people know what it’s like to be a lone voice in the wilderness, how one might describe wild man John the Baptist who stuck his neck out and whose demise forshadowed Jesuses. Declared a radical, revelation, a turn around. The future is multi-dimensional, like Jack Jack. New Utopias.

if not deviant unexpected, sweeping, revolutionary, revelationary. And evolutionary. It is the quirk the eccentricity the mutation from the norm, now, which becomes the mainstay of the future. It is the darkest dark and the dawn itself. The eleventh hour, the elventh sign and house which rules progress, technology, innovation, In the Jesus story things are about to change. He knows he is reaching the end and pleads his feelings of forsakeness

I was just rooting around Sextrology world and realized I could use new pictures on the pages pertaining to that tome. Maybe some fun old shots, and then we can spice with some new ones. I also have to now start collecting everything Glow Festival into one place as that will be one of my holiday projects. I woke up to a nose out of joint email from JLB. As an oversensitive person myself I’m naturally empathetic when someone feels hurt; of course I didn’t do anything wrong but I sort of got some stuff thrown at me; again, which is fine. I don’t want to be the cause of anyone’s upset. Ever. I make it a point not to be. You know in this business I’ve had to become a helluva lot better (at everything in general) otherwise I’m a hypocrite doing what I do. I have my moments, still, of course; those of which I’m not proud. It always comes down to intentions. I surely didn’t want to make anyone feel “a way.”…

Some thoughts on the Pisces:

Oh man this is always the hardest bit. The Pisces.

This should be a different kind of Thanksgiving. We will eat in a restaurant which I’m all for. We will overspend but it will be worth it. We don’t actually host these holidays but we always end up doing the lion share of the work while others either don’t help at all or become so overwhelmed by the prospect of cooking a bird or making a gravy that they have to take to their sick beds. I exaggerate (sorta). It really is terribly silly. Anyway we went to this sort of pricey suburban “industrial style” restaurant called the Bankcroft which is across from the residences where folks from the Little Women remake are staying. Coincidentally conversation turned to fact that the film’s director is staying in one of the houses in Corcord that the parents of a classmate of G.’s owns Emma Watson is on that film and you know we love us some Emma Watson. One of the associate producers at A.R.T. I’ve been working with for four years on our Afterglow at Oberon series is called Emma Watts. Not for nothing—as people used to say in the eighties in NYC. I had a steak not turkey and a chocolaty dessert. I unfortunately revisited the clam dip with Fritos I had sampled at the house prior to Thanksgiving lunch again upon returning. That has been the gift that keeps on giving. And of course wine and pumpkin pie and coffee. With all that it still is bread that is the true debunker of my dietary prowess. Sometimes it’s not the what it’s all about dazzling them with the how.

Or at least that’s what I’d like to tell myself. I should like to be thankful this year for the great Gift I believe is coming my way and for the ability to make some upgrades to lifestyle while working really hard to make the Project work with some back up irons on the fire for extra support. We worked out our rehearsal plan and now I have to get on the promotion. But, to be fair, I’m still working out some kinks on the script and these things can’r really be rushed, capisce. I’m just going to give over to the haze of these days because I can’t think of any better way of negotiating them. I am silently sneaking in. I will put out about ten asks for festival in January and then again in February and then I’ll get contracts in and booked. This way I can get all the graphics up and running. I’m not sure what my color scheme will be this year but I’m hoping maybe we can revisit navy and do like a navy greige red kind of 18th century seabattle painting sort of release as color story. The return of the revolutionary war. Art is a Revolutionary War. Something like that. I must be the best ambassador for all that sort of thing which again: Reduction.

Our first house was build in 1805 and I’m kind of fixated on that year. I don’t know why. It’s the Battle of Trafalgar, the end of the use of the French (Julian) calendar. And the year Lewis and Clark get to where they want to go. I think about what might have been going on here. What magic the world still had left to reveal and what unfolding of story might occur in the wonder of all these thoughts. Turkeys in Harvard Square.

I think what I’m most excited for is the curated aspect of it all. I am so looking forward to having a shop, but in the meantime enjoying elements of that being put into place by way of decor, design of the Boston salon. In this vision I’m seeing two floors of a brownstone and getting buzzed in. I would love my own freestanding house but that won’t be terribly affordable. It’s all about having the scaleable business; and I have a number of ideas on that score in any case. It involves taking stock of rare and out of print books on the subjects that we explore. An alchemist shop of sort. Bringing back the notion of crystals. Also we could be doing something with herbs? These things can be represented in small ways. None of this should actually happen but for in the most subltlest of ways. Have to go to the gift show and to partner on projects with other artisans out there. I think that will be the brilliance of it all—what partnerships we can enter into that are lucrative but unconstraining. I will get through this week and then reconvene with both the Tims.

It’s probably a good time to create another timeline of sorts. There are elements of business that seriously need to happen in the short term; and those which will happen closer to spring. The aesthetics of things need to be worked out; and I’m going to actually defer much of this to La S because she really should lead in this arena while I work on the creative work of the business itself and how many inroads can be made from the purely creative entrepreneurial side of things. I feel it’s time that I know what I want. Anyway it’s already (already) happening. And I don’t know why, when I’m this close, I feel such a divide between the present reality and the one I’m so soon to be living. It is strange how this success stuff works. I don’t think any amount of money, for instance, can really change one’s standing nor one’s sense of abundance. If anything I am strangely fearful and that is the one thing I cannot afford. So I have to immediately redirect that energy and to funnel it into specific big hit items. Plus immediately diversifying such that moolah is made all other ways. That to me would be supremely important.

More than anything it is about hiring the best team right out of the gate. I’m not convinced that R+R wouldn’t be the perfect people to partner with on projects; we do not have to take them on as employees, but as consultants who can help with merchandising and promotion and production even. I have a good instinct about this I feel. And that should really be what I focus on: The big picture. Though I dare say that today, just thinking about it, I feel exhausted. I shouldn’t. I should be able to soldier on, through; but I have been having these energy dips of late and I have been sleeping like a crazy person, pretty much able to always fall back, which I haven’t really been able to do for years. Hey I’m not questioning it.

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.

Sagittarius 23° (December 15)

I do feel as if I have covered a great number of bases, such that tomorrow I shall resume the work in earnest. We are very fortunate to have been given more wiggle room with the publisher, but it isn’t a grace that we should waste. I’m going to make hay while the sun doesn’t shine. That was not a typo. [And then my dictation mechanism broke for two hours until S. just stood next to me and it magically fixed itself.] that is really odd it’s been the entire time when you have been in plot ease of magic shower came out didn’t work and all you did was just stand near me for a second how is that possible I really truly don’t get it . Yep it’s still working that is really really strange OK. Can you hear me? yes I can. That’s amazing. You fixed yourself and I’m very happy about that because I have a lot to do and a lot to say and I’ve got to get moving into my day I made a BLAT salad and it was pretty delicious I had that kind of headache I get before a big snowfalls kind of a sick attic with chills I took my temperature and I don’t have a fever so I’m not going to worry about that aspect the gods forbid. Oh it is nice just to sit here and talk and watched the typing happen. The council that had to drop out I wrote to them to say yeah but maybe we should get some moolah back and I used all first names and I get this email back referring to Mr thison attorney that all in capital letters so they offered a compromise which will definitely take I mean can’t get blood from a stone right anyway it’s very weird because farmer fuc face hasn’t been around and fable was very dark on the Hill last night so maybe he got taken away by elves one can only hope I am going to forge through this whole shenanigan today and I am going to add the requisite number of pages to the chapter I’m currently stalled in and I’d like to a little bit more than that we’ll see what happens I’m not going to press my luck anyway there’s more to read belloso enjoy yourselves duckies. 

The following blocks of text are exceprts from my first year of  Blagues, nos. 1291-1295. 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.

The party last night was pretty fantasic. We spent the morning doing our own thing and met J at Elizabeth Gage, a designer showroom slash shop we’ve been gagging to see. I had half a full E (and by that I mean English breakfast not drugzz); then I decided to walk through Mayfair and Green Park, taking my life in my hands to cross that road (highway basically, I’m sure it is the A something or other)—Grovesnor whatever—crossing into Belgravia, around the square, where S + J were already mulling. My insecurity kept making me feel like people were looking at me like we were rough.

Mulling over thoughts on the Leo for the show: Lion King and Sun King. Providing warmth and protection to others while engaging them, employing them. Being HQ. Giving others life. Peforming mricacles. Buidling a dynasty. A sense of permanence. The local hero. The sign of Picaresque heroes and personal gods like Hestia, to whom all hearths were sacred and Artemis, goddess of the hunt, lioness amongst women said Homer who was the most widely worshipped of all the gods, her cult, at the last solely rivalring Christianity. We all must be local heroes of sorts.

Passions, passtimes, moments of Pleasure right and then opposite Aquarius is Joy. But Leo’s pleasures aren’t bad. They are the simple joys. Again hobbies and the like. But also love affairs by the fire. Personal loves. Building family, entourage. Work or creative teams where you bring people along. Redford and Sundance. Rowling and the Wizarding World. Napoleon, Castro, Mussolini, Martha Stewart. Being king of your own castle. Creating your circle of influence. Self-appointed Stardom. Fire offers protection. Sway. Arthur creating something noble. Helios (Heloise). Hero gods. Prometheus? Forethought. A hero. A champion—of mankind. Prometheus freed by Heracles, another hero associated with this sign. It is about wanting to improve humanity, to enoble it.

Wow this food poisoning or whatever this thing is really no joke.Anyway woke up this morning to torrential sleet and sideways winds. Headed over to Blue Bottle for a coffee and I ended up having a green tea and a ham and cheese on baguette. What the hell is wrong with me?

Getting things down about Libra: Apollo presides over. He is perhaps the first president; a god for Athens, a god for democracy who as befits the Scales designation as the only abstract sign in the zodiac, presides over all abstracts as the god, too, of order, reason, law, music, poetry, prophecy. He is an oracular god and an orator, as was his son Linus (was Charles Shulz of Peanuts fame conscious of this?). His great Pumpkin storyline runs along the theme of Great Expectations, which are Libra’s superpower, the shadow side of the sign being Disappointment. The others of the sign can be Hell.

Apollo can kill with his words. Libra the scales is the swift sword of Justice. Lofty guy. Stuck up maybe. Sting. Abrstract: order reason music seven notes to scale etc 24-29 Prime like Jean Brodie one is primed for veneration. If Cancer is coming of age, Libra is coming into oneself. 7th house of others–all of you—in one on one relationship—the sign’s motto is we are. The Candidate. Apollo perfect candidate to succeed Zeus but he is rejected. He chases Daphne but he is rejected. Prime: On the road to importance.

Snapshot of Jesus as the orator, the statesmen, the pundit for peace, at the podium, pulpit, pedestal. Gaining popularity. To enlighten others. To equalize. The god in the white hat, and yet not a cozy figure. Because he’s an abstraction. He’s an idea.

Fun Fact: we’ve chosen 12 songs by artsts of each of the twelve signs to punctuate the point

At this point in the story Jesus is in his pulpit. Lucifer, the light bringer, Luc and Leia, both Mark Hamill and Carrie Fisher are Libras. Cardinal air translates to light. The symbol of Libra, yes is the scales but it is also a sunset captured at mid sink below the horizon, equality and equipoise. Reaching out holding hands. Libra wants to teach the world to sing in perfect harmony. And it wants to help the disenfranchised of Virgo to rise to equal status, equi-librium, blanace. Fairness. Full Exposure. The Light of Day. Light is the best antiseptic

Libra really is about fairness. Things being even. The start of Libra is the Equinox, light being even. 42-49 the descendent in age however. I am a we. We are no longer wrking it out. we are erecting pillars of personal principle into place. The edification. Erecting our designs for living. Seeking balance and harmony. The shadow side was be being overly judgmental, hypocrisy, great expecations to disappointment

Still feeling rather iffy. Had a super creative talk about the biz this morning over coffee; and realizing how possible everything is when people spiritually invest in you. It truly is a wonderful thing. Went for a nice long walk in Wellfleet. Wanted to get some notes down on the intro…

More thoughts on Scorpio: 49-56 All that Libra light casts a dark and mysterious shadow a/k/a the sign of Scorpio. Fixed water ice crystals. Concentrated. Distilled down to the Microscopic, atomic, sub particular Unseen mysterious building block level of everything, the True Essence is it infinitely fathomless? Ruled by Pluto named the god of the Underworld, with his cloak of invisibility. The Underworld is also a metaphor for our own subconscious. The 8th house rules sleep, death, sex, all of which fall under the heading of regeneration. Pluto’s energy is eliptical like the phoenix forever rising from the ashes. What is seething below the surface. What subtext, scandal, seduction, subterfuge? Betrayal. Yes, here in the Jesus story there are whispers in the shadows; and the general atmosphere is becoming sick with secrets and the alienation

We have. Merger becoming a third entity. Surely on some sub particular level we are already merged. Scorpio is a human microscope seeing through artifice in search of truest nature. We Have (a secret) we are only as sick as them.

Mulling over Sagittarius for the show. Mutable-Fire lightning. The biggest Planet Jupiter named for the lightning god, the chief god. Large and In charge. More more more. 56-63 Height of powers. Life is a banquet. But it all too esily can become a bacchanale. Jupiter power of expansion; shadow side is being out of control. Dionysus, the pineal gland. He is the son inheritor, the would be successor of Zeus

And of course we have the banquet scene in the Jesus story, the last supper, where he is taking a page from Dionysus’s book. Transubstantiation, turning wine into blood and bread into flesh. That’s what the Dionysian rites were all about.

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.

Sagittarius 22° (December 14)

I’m not coping with the Monday experience although well right now I must say I will probably end up faffing about and cooking and doing menus and stuff like that it would be great if there was a way to gather but there is something so I’ll have to let that go for now I have been in touch with Dave which is always good and I look forward to connecting at some point after this strange. We had started watching the prom which is really silly but there’s good things about it. I make no secret of the fact I despise Ryan Murphy and he’s such a freaking narcissist I can’t even stand seeing his name in credits and his directing is so lazy and slapdash and yet he knows how to turn a Buck I’ll give him that what’s her face rule Stephanie she looks ill I’m really kind of altered and tired from having covid it’s funny how using dictation the mechanism knows how to spell covid. So last night had a delicious tagliatelle it was last night was not maybe not maybe it was Saturday going to make some salmon cakes tonight and serve it with some rice and bok choy and some avocado nut should really be it I fell off my wine wagon but I’m just going to get right back on it it’s so challenging when there’s no one else around nothing else to do except sit around and watch television which is also boring but you know I should be at this point kind of working day and night for a very small amount of time really just three months of that should do the trick and again the voice dictation is a lifesaver. 

The following blocks of text are exceprts from my first year of  Blagues, nos. 1286-1290. 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.

Atomization

Disorder

Snakes

Things to Wrap Your Brain Around

HA Books We are only working on justifying a sign’s 2018 horoscope with their 2017 one. Thats it. There are about 23 blocks of text to do per day. Trick is to do as many early in the day as possible. Like 5-7. Then again before dinner. Make it mindless busy work.

Blague should be written either in bed before waking fully or after yoga, recording all the thoughts that spring up. Right now we should be focusing on “bits” a bit. What I did on my summer vacation. I have some notes to record here I’m keeping stock of.

Art House Talk to Mark Cortale about Town Hall benefits.

Real Estate: censored

Sextrology. To be read in two directions.

The Sparklers have been sent save the dates. Now they get the actual invite. We need to make a comprehensive list of who then still needs that. Color code on the Operating Budget. Then Send to people via the FB Share of the Invite. Keep growing master list of would-be Sparklers. Take stock of Missionaries and do the same. This is building audience.

I’m going to admit it. I’m the smartest person I know. I have felt that way since my early memory, I can’t quite put into words, but I see: a walk from our Jersey City apartment to the FoodFair half a block upstreet. I’m in my usual silouette as a two-year-old, short pants, wool flannel “suit” paired with fitted blazer, some later fetish of cotton shirt, Peter Pan collar and/or sweater (sweater: said in an American accent, highly exaggerated) or jumper (which is that thing you wear in the house with food stairs having won out over fabric for territory).

We have to go back to speaking directly to the (perp I mean) person, (although perpson best defines it.), okay, the “reader.” The thing is I have a lot to say, as an individual.

Sagittarians want to make things more than what they are. Nothing wrong with that.

And the turkeys are not unapologetic. They’re like kids to whom you want to say “don’t wander into the road,” who roll their eyes and say nothing.

Local Comedian
(with cosmic overtones)

And,
So therefore

thank you

I get

But I’m also putting down some thoughts for the show about Aries. Like how this is spirit made flesh. Aries is the most spirited, if not spiritual, person but at the same time the most animal. First house is that of the physical body. Aries are lusty. Athena god of helmsmen.

Taurus is appreciating what one alread has. The shadow side of this is envy. Tend and appreciate the garden. They grow their talents

We landed yesterday. Can’t remember our driver to Soho Hotel. Unpacked, stayed awake to have lunch at Soho House with Missy TF which was just divine. That was several hours of the best fun we’ve had in ages—talked about everything under the Sun. Then we stayed awake again and decided to walk to Clerkenwell just to keep the air flowing through our now very long since awake selves. A second perfect reunion of the day with P+M Edie and Dot there too. The house looked amazing and we had a jolly simle supper and some wine and some laughing comfort. We Ubered back to the hotel.

Goodness. We had a client this morning at ten. Just some coffee after a bit of a food fest. Always good to see this particular client as she continues to make magic. We’re those magi, remember who help others do just that. I do love conducting sessions with folks in other cities, anyway. Always feels that much more glamorous. Had lunch with Flo and Jill. Or rather they arrived when I was on my last bite. I had a pork chop. I never have a pork chop. Then we took a bit of a stroll in Mayfair and back, semi looking for Smythsons, but not really.

Ended the night on a sour note. I was talking with some architect fellow in the restaurant not realizing the hotel didn’t give out more than one key (which now, as I write, this may be, in the remotest possibility, not true—or am I being a beast?); so S came down wearing pjs, a shawl and a scowl. Uh, oh. She was none too pleased but I didn’t know about the key thing. Anyway let’s just say we were both tired and cranky.

Wanted to gets some notes down on Gemini for sure today as I get my juices flowing, writing wise, for the show. Gemini. The disrupter. Intercept, at the crossroads. Mutable air. Static Electricity. The power of positive thinking—Norman Vincent Peale, Ralph Waldo Emerson (other women maybe?)

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.