Sagittarius 6° (November 29)


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.


To view the original Sabian Symbol themed 2015 Blague corresponding to this day: Flashback! The degree of the Sabian Symbol may be higher than the one listed here  as the symbols cluminate in the next degree. There are 360  degrees spread over 365 days.

 Typos happen—I don’t have time or an intern to edit.*
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