Taurus 8° (April 27)


Last night ended on a sour note and I fell asleep ridiculously early only to awake before eleven at night and stay up for hours after, watching MTV style historical dramas on NetFlix. Nothing I can really recommend, nor do I want to embarrass myself by sharing the program I binged on. Suffice to say I found out it was originally a CW show. Little by little I will claw my way back to the surface. Today I am awash in random thoughts and I want to record them all so that’s what today’s Blague will be about: The fact that I’d like to take all our astrology books and decide which ones we might be able to publish, given the fact that the copyrights are so old, or how I would like to offer them for sale on our website, store. And how we need to make the website more engaging and intereactive. And how it is we still need a Wikipedia page based on all that has been written about us. And to include on that page the thing about Eleanor Catton. And how we’ve been in Time magazine; and how we perform a live act; and how we have been recurring guests on talk shows like Chelsea. And how we have a jewelry collection. And how all these things do matter some. I still need to write to Kip and may comment on the fact that he looks great in a dress. People with the initials J.D. are typically assholes. The podcast is going to be the main event of the coming year. I am currently so itchy I could scream. Tomorrow I will wake and go directly to work and I will work a total of ten hours. I will do the same on Wednesday and that will be me finished with the product. On waking Thursday I will send all I have to client and I will do my yoga and then use the weekend to get the house ready for Spring. Hopefully by then the Farmer will feel like putting in the window. I will entertain the notion of moving forward on the festival work but I cannot guarantee it. Surely we will have to play the entire thing by ear. The whole world is going to change and there will be a major fire sale. We are in touch with the TV folks and the publishers both. I only have a couple of paragraphs to write and then I shall be done. We need to sit down and go overo our budgets for the past several months.

Going over budgets never fails to cause some kind of argument, never over spending, but over the fact that the figures I have never match the figures S. has. It is something of a comedy routine; at least we try to keep it that way. It is especially aggravating for her for some reason. I never really care that much I just am a stickler for logic and it begins and ends there for me. And so we are sitting here while S. goes back over and over to figure out the discrepancy du jour. It is never that big a deal; it is just that it never matches, no matter how meticulous theprocess might be. Tomorrow I will get up and go directly to the writing project that awaits. The first thing I will do is talk myself through the landscape of it and I will likely make that the meat and bones of this Blague for the next couple of days. Also, too, if I have vivid dreams I’ll include them. I am once again keeping a notebook handy, bedside. I don’t know if I might want to have one more junky night of food before we settle into a steady diet of vegetables for the coming weeks. Sill to have pizza again but I could do it. Otherwise, we could make a risotto or some such. It none of it matters. I have to get my brain back on my work. And what I mean by work is my writing daily which is very important if I am going to hit my marks on the book writing front. I intend to do just that. I know I have the facility. If my Blague has taught me anything it is that. I have had coffee in the afternoon, which is probably why I now want wine. Up and down, up and down.

Big surprise: I went for a drive to get a bottle of Chinon. To be fair, we decided not to make a Kale Caesar, but to have a sort of pasta, which was really some kind of ancient grain shaped into fusilli. Still, I made a putanesca sauce and we had wine with it and then watched some bad TV and read and went to sleep only we didn’t read I just said that to make myself sound less sad and floppy. The only news I barely get is when I take my drives ten minutes this way or that—S. will not listen or watch any TV news and I can’t really blame her. I want to learn to speak Gaelic. I wish I knew where I came from (I will never unless I hire that guy who does the TV show); but boy oh boy do I wish I could have some sense of inherited self. I can’t stand even the last remnant of Italian relatives as they always metaphorically poke me or somehow twist the knife when they beam in, much in the way friendships I’ve allowed have done. I am always chasing a feeling this much we know. I see myself forever in Paris of course; for now that will mean six months out of a year. And the other six months I should like to spend in Maine, somewhere, maybe Bath or Harpswell. There needn’t be a reason to go as far north as Castine, although we know it is beautiful there and surely worth the journey. In any case I want to get a beautiful new car and a beautiful old one. I think the honky tonk world of Provincetown has become a thing of the past for me now. I need more genuine an experience and I made my historical mark on the town and can now let go lightly. Tomorrow is another day and it shall be characterized by a certain maturity in creativity. I can bring it all home, honing the writing, on Wednesday. And then it will be finished and I will feel accomplished and lifted. Cardinal air is to be like the winds, always a metaphor for certain change. John Dee had his own symbol if you can believe it. I should like Starsky + Cox to have theirs. I have yet to delve into the more esoteric aspects of being, but that will be the beauty of future directions. I need to be old. LLB was right about that.


The following blocks of texs are exceprts from my first year of  Blagues, nos. 186-190  I am reading through all my Blagues, five per day, and posting some samples here. Now, in my sixth year of writing this Blague, but the time I get to my seventh, I will have through all the daily Blagues of my first five years. If that’s confusing I apologize:

I have had moments in creation where I have felt that direct connection to the Muses and have had it last for months or even a year or so on end. Recipe for madness as well as strokes of genius. And maybe the reason I haven’t created any, say, solo performance work to speak of as of yet, or written any full songs for that matter (i have reams of half-written ditties) is because I haven’t creatively visualized and fully conceived—gotta love that word in this context—that which I want to express. Now, Virgo is the Virgin after all i.e. she is designed to conceive. The sign rules digestion as well as gestation. So maybe I need to get into emotionally-intelligently hatching an idea from visualization to execution. Sounds so simple. Yeah right. Again, I’m more a flash of ideas and then a jumping into the deep end of creativity without quite knowing how to swim sort of creative, opening channels to inspiration; I suppose I’ve always considered ultimate conception of creative vision to be a bit, well, too thought-out. Then again, maybe that’s why I don’t have a very large body of work. Food for thought. Must have been a Virgo who invented that phrase.

To view the original Sabian Symbol themed 2015 Cosmic Blague corresponding to this day: Flashback! The degree pointof the Sabian Symbol may at times be one degree higher than the one listed here. The Blague portrays the starting degree of for this day ( 0°,  for instance), as I typically post in the morning, while the Sabian number corresponds to the end point (1°) of that same 0°-1° period. There are 360  degrees spread over 365/6 days per year—so they nearly, but not exactly, correlate.


Typos happen. I don’t have a proofreader. And I like to just write, post and go!
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