Pisces 27° (March 17)
No sleep last night. Riddled with anxiety again. Everything seems so heightened my e key keeps sticking. Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee Apparently theseeeeeeeeeeeee laptops have a probleeeeem with sticking keys. Anyway it isn’t th end of th world. But it is annoying when writing on deadline. Here are some thoughts: The Moonchild is the most self-protective of men. He needs to keep his emotional defenses strong because he is highly sensitive, and so he chooses his company carefully, just as he secures professional positions for himself where he will largely be left to his own devices. As guarded as he may be, he is, as a rule, exceedingly ambitious; he thus tends to oh, so subtly, target individuals he feels can speed his trip toward success, often becoming a darling to influential people who will take up his cause. He is very good at playing the proverbial game in his career, even when just starting out, especially charming those of an older generation to whom he shows such promise. Although he will present as cool as a cucumber, himself, by astrological design, Cancer man elicits emotional responses from others. When young, he specifically works on the feelings of nostalgia that older men have for their own lives when they were his age, while women of all ages are simply charmed by his signature gentlemanly demeanor and behavior, which isn’t in the least disingenuous. Regardless of their gender or sexual orientation, Cancer men love women, and they typically make up the bulk of his friendships and associations. One feels safe in the Moonchild’s presence, and he prides himself on being polite, courteous, even, chivalrous. He is not one to act out or up, a master at quelling and disguising anger, upset or sorrow. He is quick to laughter, however, which he isn’t above feigning if he finds it might be purposefully endearing, just as he will hang on every word spoken by someone he wants in his corner. He wouldn’t consider himself calculating—he assumes everyone is as deliberately charming as himself. Pouring it on, as he does, comes naturally to this premier water sign, just one of the many ironies endemic to the Cancer male experience—he just has zero of it about himself. His infamous façade is one and the same as the protective Crab shell, any phoniness is thus a byproduct of shielding his vulnerable feelings. Only those who know him well will recognize this and forgive him for it, for they understand how tender this guy can be. Besides, there is a certain comfort and joy in gaining close access to the Cancer man when knowing how measured, mannered and decorous he remains with most people he will court. He is the consummate host and one feels safe and cared for in his company. A master of small talk, he has an arsenal of stories and anecdotes with which to entertain, but he is generally not comfortable going to deep in conversation, especially if it involves discussing his private or inner life.
The following blocks of text are exceprts from my Blagues, nos. 1746-1750. 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.
Paris, Day Twenty Three of Sixty. They are all going to the flea market this morning and I’m going to stay in and work. I am so full of everything I just can’t eat. I do need to go out and do a little bit of shopping. I notice there is someone moving either in or out of the building. I am writing to the guy at the festival in London. Paul who is very skinny looking. I take myself out for a lovely beer at a place near their hotel. That’s where I take the video of the floor opening up. And then we go to St. Gervais and I am early and they are there basically just in time for the mass. They stay only twenty minutes and I do the whole thing. I am feeling very at sea and the singing mass makes me cry uncontrollably. I don’t know why it is happening but I know it has something to do with the departed. They set off for Baffo and I follow and get there basically just in time but the fact I’ve had beers and nothing to eat all day is suddenly catching up with me and I am really exhausted and in need of crashing very soon. I barely get through the meal and am so happy that I just have to go around the corner to my little pink bedroom. I will work on the Taurus intros today and get those totally underway.
The fixed-earth sign of Taurus is vividly portrayed by a garden, Eden. And Taurus people draw on archetypes the of nymphs and flower gods, who personify innocence and invitation—Taurus is ruled by Venus, the planetary principle of attraction. The sign’s signature color is green, signifying both innocence and envy. Taurus girl is the eternal goddess in maiden form. We know what temptation Eve invited. Likewise, the tale of Snow White is a retelling of the myth of Io, a nymph punished by queen Hera for giving into her hubby Zeus’s seduction—Hera turned Io into a snow-white heifer. Silly cow. Hera is famed for taking the form of a crone who hands out poison apples just like Snow White’s wicked queen, who is vainly obsessed with youth and beauty. Venus’ symbol—a circle atop a crossed staff—is called the mirror of Aphrodite; and the planet’s rule, here, on the earth plane of Taurus, makes physical beauty, and green-eyed envy, a preoccupation. Io and Hera are two sides of the same coin, the former representing the naiveté of the latter’s mature womanhood. Really, Hera tries to teach Io a lesson about female power, which Hera deifies. And many a Taurus woman will tell you that this is a central theme for them. Taurus tends to make an impact in her early life, being prized for latent talents and inherent charms. Adult life can be an ongoing catch-up lesson in taking her own assets by the horns, something at which she may ultimately overachieve. Indeed, her biggest challenge is in not being objectified, resisting the urge to let domineering figures steer her stars in exchange for creature Taurean comforts, ease and luxury. Passivity can be her pitfall, as can becoming somebody’s cash cow. Here some earthy Taurus nymphets who peaked young and piqued interest with early promise of potential: Ellie Kemper, Megan Fox, Kristen Dunst, Sandra Dee, Kelly Clarkson, Sofia Coppola, Jessica Alba, Lily Allen, Lily Cole, Jessica Stam, Ann-Margret, Yvonne Craig, Uma Thurman, Janet Jackson, Adele, Barbra Streisand, Shirley Temple, Valerie Bertinelli, Harper Lee and Charlotte Bronte whose heroine Jane Eyre is a namesake of Hera or Eire(Ireland) the emerald green isle where the goddess grew dem apples.
Venus governs Taurus on the earth plane (and Libra on the astral one). The Venus symbol is emblematic of the Feminine Principle. The planet’s namesake goddess of grace and beauty works her charms through Taurus, and on its people, in a physical, tangible, often monetary way. Indeed, Taurus woman is the original material girl. Though she may learn early in life that an urgent, myopic focus on possessions can blind her to more eternal bounty. Still, it’s no bull that Taureans tend to be attractive in a fresh and earthy, if not oomphy, way. The women are natural beauties, barefoot contessas and, sometimes self-professed geishas who fetishize their burgeoning femininity. Consider the luscious delights of Bianca Jagger, Penelope Cruz, Rosario Dawson, Jessica Alba, Bettie Page, Laetitia Casta, Megan Fox, James King, Diana Agron, Christina Hendricks, Audrey Hepburn, Margot Fonteyne and Nancy Kwan. Oh, yes, Taurus enjoys being a girl; and when she inevitably loses her innocent bloom and no longer likes what the two-faced mirror-mirror reflects, she is most prone to see this as a red flag to charge into some cosmetic surgeon’s office. Case in point: Renee Zellwegger, Cher, Kimora Lee Simmons, Tori Spelling, Christine Baranski, Janet Jackson, Donatella Versace, Carol Burnett, Barbra Streisand, Pia Zadora, Michele Pfeifer, Shirley MacLaine, Melissa Gilbert and Bea Arthur, who televised her face lift in on “Maude”. There is also Eva Perone and the aptly named Blossom Dearie.
In counterpoint to its preceding sign of objective, directive, “masculine” Mars-ruled Aries (and the forthright people born under that sign), “feminine” Venus-ruled Taurus is subjective, intriguing, inviting and alluring. Taurus people can be, if only naively, vague, suggestive, or downright elusive. They are all pull, and no push. Taurus can in fact be navel gazers, endlessly self-reflective, and they thus invitethe interest, worship and also the scrutiny from others. As artists and intellects, they obscure and refine, turning obvious forms of expression on their ear while they up the creative ante, achieving unique, even absurdist, and elegant results. They don’t effort by nature. As the premier earth sign, these pastoral archetypal flower-children—think reflective Narcissus, Adonis and Hyacinth—embody natural ease. They toil nor do they spin. Full expression is their birthright. Taurus rules the throat and voice, symbolizing a natural proclivity for these bovine characters to utter. Venus works her grace and charm physically in this sign and on its men who are suppleness personified. Consider the gravity-defying moves of Fred Astaire and David Beckham; the oblique musical stylings of Duke Ellington, Burt Bacharach, Bing Crosby, Bono Vox (good voice), Pete Townsend, David Byrne or Brian Eno; the skewed comedic genius of George Carlin and Stephen Colbert; the elegant up-ending of Salvatore Dali and Jasper Johns, the out-of-left-field acting styles of Dennis Hopper, Jack Nicholson and Harvey Keitel, the ironic soft-spoken-ness of Malcolm X, the obscured invention of Mark Zuckerberg, the self-reverential élan of filmmaker Wes Anderson. All such expression being one big, slow side-long glance of the Taurus Bull. Can they be in love with themselves? That’s a question for the likes of Al Pacino, Chris Brown, George Clooney, Channing Tatum, Enrique Iglesias, Daniel Day Lewis, Jay Leno, Will Arnett, Robert Pattinson, James McAvoy, Jerry Seinfeld, Orson Wells or Rudolph Valentino.
Representing the Feminine Principle, planet Venus’ influence on the Taurus male manifests physically, as befits this corporeal earth sign. At her core a fertility goddess, Venus developed into a deity of grace, love and beauty. Taurus is a feminine sign, which is ironically symbolized by a virile Bull. Besides itself being an emblem of male fertility, the Bull represents latent power—the animal is incitedto attack. Taurus men are more poised and graceful, if not reticent, rather than being forthright or obviously rough-and-tumble. They have an oblique, if not myopic, view of the world. Just as Taurus girls draw on the archetype of nature nymphs, Taurus man embodies the tempting spirit of such self-reflective flower gods as Hyacinth, Narcissus and Adonis, who even turned the tables on the passive, attractive Venus-Aphrodite, making her chase him down. Taurus man is the zodiac’s premier pretty boy. He is a soft-spoken slice of beefcake, often a just a sliver, exuding elegance and debonair flair. He has been known to fetishize and refashion female trappings and attire; from pink sox to sultry peignoirs: Jamie Dornan, Henry Cavill, Hunter Parrish, Jack Gleeson, Thomas Welling, Pierce Brosnan, Djimon Hounsou, George Clooney, Tony Goldwyn, Dennis Rodman, Jean-Paul Gaultier, Donavan, Peter Frampton, Astaire, Crosby, Ellington, Rudolph Valentino, Liberace, James Mason, Richard Avedon.
Paris, Day Twenty Four of Sixty. I am not popular today but that’s fine. All will dissolve and resolve. S. does the Sunday chicken shopping and goes out for a walk. Nancy is meant to have a massage today but gets ill on the street so S. will take the appointment. She had brought me back a falafel because they overordered. There is no so much food in the house. I will go and grab some water and wine. And I will walk S. to her appointment. We have a lot of time so we stroll the rue Charlot which is quite nice. I get those needles put into my legs and leave her to it. I stroll a bit more and decide to find some place to sit where I haven’t been before. I ask to see if she’ll meet me at La Fronde for a drink outside which we do. Then we come up and I go out and get another bottle of the same just in case we get there. We put out all the food and N. + G. come for a bite. People are a bit out of sorts I feel. There is just too much focus on food it’s freaking me out. I am not someone who likes to eat so much and when I’m not eating be talking about food. Some folks are eating profiterolles at every meal which is pretty funny actually. I can understand how something like this could send a person into a sort of manorexia. I will do some Gemini intro work today. Fitting as that is the sign of Nançoise.
Gossip, girl: The Gemini gamine can gab if not babble like a bird on a wire. The mutable air sign of Gemini is concerned with pure, buzzy, etheric, information: what’s in the air. The sign’s ruler Mercury is named for the winged capped and footed god, its symbol recalling a pesky antennae’d insect, pulling info from the ether. Or perhaps they’re not antennae but the wing-tips of an angel, an agent of soaring divinity, such as Mercury, the messenger, is to his chief god, Zeus. So, if Gemini man, like Mercury, is a messenger, then Gemini woman is the message itself; and a mixed one at that. She often isthe gossip, controversial, whether innocently or purposefully. Female counterpart to the god Mercury is winged Eris, goddess of discord. Arguably, she is a deity of information, the embodiment of the collective buzz, which is, by its very nature, discordant. Discord supposes, indeed incites duality, the principle energy of Gemini. Eris doesn’t just throw information out there, she plants ideas in others’ heads. So when she tossed an apple scrawled with the words “for the fairest of them all” into a chic party she caused a fracture and factions to form. Gemini can be a scandal; and a scream, a party girl, albeit a light-weight one—like tiny Tinker Bell getting blotto on a thimble of hooch. She’s sensitive, you see. Eris tossed the apple because she wasn’t invited to that party. Slighted, she caused outright Trojan War, the central figure being another prime Gemini archetype, Helen, the actual twin of Pollux, the divine so-called twin to mortal brother Castor—the two boys form the constellation of Gemini. Helen and Pollux hatched from a divine egg. Castor and Clytemnestra from a mortal egg. Their mother Leda must have lain with her husband before Zeus, as swan, had a go. So. Helen and Clytemnestra personify female Geminian duality. One passive, one not so much. Helen? A scandal! She was given to Paris by Aphrodite for choosing her most fair in his judgment—he was bribed—deal-making being endemic to this sign,. It is fromMercury that we get the word merchant. In our book, Sextrology, the Gemini women chapter is called The Gift. Of the gab, yes; but more than that: Gemini women always seem to possess such qualities, attributes or talents that could only be explained by way of divine endowment. They are exciting and challenging, enlivening and provocative, both, always equal parts a mixed bag of Mercury’s tricks; more perhaps, than one bargained for, something of a commotion, possessing a certain talent for winning every argument, sometimes by way of seeming insouciance. The likes of Joan Collins, Wallis Simpson, Angelina Jolie, Lauryn Hill, Kathleen Turner, Anne Heche, Michelle Phillips, Stevie Nicks, Melanie Brown, Joan Rivers, Marilyn Monroe, Judy Garland, Naomi Campbell, Heidi Klum, Anna Kournikova. Helena Bonham Carter, Zoe Saldana, Alanis Morissette, Pam Grier, Juliette Lewis, Gina Gershon, Mary Kate and Ashley Olsen are no strangers to controversy.
Gemini is ruled by winged Mercury, god of the crossroads. Being at a crossroads spells a difficult decision. After winged Eris lobs that apple into the divine party someone must decide who is the fairest. The Judgment of Paris sees that poor boy choosing Aphrodite who promised him Helen for the honor. Helen hooked up with Paris who was from the wrong side of the tracks. Fast forward to Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet whose suitor, pre-Romeo, is likewise called Paris. The name Juliet translates to both “child of Jove”, a name for Jupiter, Greek:Zeus, and “downy” another nod to birds. Star-crossed and prone to love at first sight with someone from the wrong side of the crossroads, Juliet is a prime literary archetype of the Gemini woman in keeping with the sign’s rule of the human age of 14-21, a time when one first bites into the apple of temptation. Helen and Paris; Romeo and Juliet are forbidden fruit. This matches the biblical view of the zodiac as well. The first fiery sign Aries is akin to big-bang creation; Taurus to the lush green Eden and temptation; and Gemini, the twins, the Fall, duality, is the consequence of eating from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. Helen and Juliet are echoes of the prurient Eve; as is Nabokov’s Lolita who tempts duality incarnate in Humbert Humbert. And you thought it was just all an accident that Gemini women seem a ripe combination of guilelessness and game. This gamine of the Zodiac does tend to be gorgeous enough to launch a thousand cosmetic campaigns. And there is always some personal-fall sprinkled into her mix, often linked to her falling rather suddenly in love. Those Gemini birds just seem to be set on a quicker speed. Innocent as a rose—mind the thorns: Kate Upton, Amy Schumer, Adriana Lima, Isabella Rossellini, Bar Refaeli, Elizabeth Hurley, Brooke Shields, Angelina Jolie, Laverne Cox, Nicole Kidman, Rosalind Russell, Riley Keough, Lana Del Rey, Leah Remini, Molly Sims, Julianna Marguilies, Ginnifer Goodwin, Octavia Spencer, Courteney Cox, Helen Hunt, Jeanne Tripplehorn, Annette Bening, Kristin Scott Thomas, Laurie Metcalf, Lea Delaria, Autumn and Willow Shields, and that two-faced swan herself, Natalie Portman.
In our book Sextrology, Gemini man’s chapter is called The Goodfellow. Gemini and its third astrological house focus on immediate experience. Immediacy being what both closely surrounds us, spatially, and instantaneously, time-wise. The sign is ruled by Mercury, named for the god who can travel hither and thither in a flash, like his Shakespearean prototype Puck, who is messenger to Oberon the way Mercury (Greek:Hermes) is to Jupiter (Zeus). The third house also rules the teenage slice of life, age 14-21, defined as it is by our immediate family and close cronies, siblings and sibling-like relationships, which are the kind we have at that age, and rarely after—Gemini making an exception to that rule. He personifies that experience always, being eternally youthful like Puck (Robin Goodfellow) or Hermes or his fairytale incarnation, Peter Pan—wrestling with one’s shadow portrays eternal struggle with duality that the sign of the Twins expresses. In legend, we have Robin Hood, in comic books, Robin, the boy wonder. Gemini guys retain their teenage rat-pack mentality, “boon companions” coming under third-house rule. Robin of Sherwood was the first hood in his hood, if you will, doing his bit to balance the rich/poor duality—in essence, the world’s first Goodfella. In modern culture we see many Gemini entering the zeitgeist at a tender age, playing at being adults while forever remaining something of a juvenile in his antics. Bring on the boy wonders: Michael Cera, Paul Dano, Neil Patrick Harris, Jamie Oliver, Macklemore, Boy George, Rafael Nadal, Jake Short, Dominic Cooper, Justin Long, Kanye West, Cameron Boyce, Troye Sivan, Mark Walhberg, Dave Franco, Shia LeBeouf, Hugh Dancy, T.J. Miller, Michael J. Fox, Mike Meyers, Noah Wylie, Irving Thalberg, Tupak Shakur, Gene Wilder, Gary Burghoff, Johnny Depp, Allen Ginsberg, Lenny Kravitz, John F. Kennedy.
Gemini is ruled by Mercury, named for the scrappy god of the crossroads. Literally, or just in their hearts, Gemini guys are street-wise garçcons de la rue: poets, troubadours, urchins, scamps, tricksters and jugglers, if just of the truth, dual by nature, dualistic by design. They are artful dodgers, fast-talking champions of the common man. There is a bit of Robin Hood in every Gemini hood in the hood, just as there is that of Robin Goodfellow, Shakespeare’s Puck, and Peter Pan, all fairy versions of winged Mercury, the magician and messenger god who, like Peter and Puck, never ages past adolescence. Duality in all its forms, but knowledge, especially, of mortality and immortality, is the theme of the Gemini male psyche. The tale of the male “twins” of Gemini, Castor and Pollux (actually quadruplets who hatched from separate eggs with twin sisters, fathered by Zeus in the guise of a Swan) is hinged on their mortal/deific dialectic. Birds and wings symbolize the divine side of the human condition, which we all possess. Gemini man tends to express his own via flights of fancy and the proliferation of ideas, poetry, music, writing, or whatever magical or Machiavellian maneuvers with which he seeks to make an lasting mark on the world. He tends to pack a wallop with his words, Mercury (Logos) being god of communication. And many a Gemini actor has played into his airy, pirate archetype. Think Johnny Depp’s Jack Sparrow, Errol Flynn’s Robin Hood or Captain Blood, Douglas Fairbank’s Robin Hood or Thief of Bagdad, James Purfoy’s Blackbeard, Jason Isaac’s Captain Hook, Geoffrey Rush’s Captain Barbossa. And then there are just the roguish, anti-hero stylings of Colin Farrell, Tupac Shakur, Stellan Skarsgard, Dominic Cooper, Paul Bettany, Peter Dinklage, Hugh Laurie, Malcolm McDowell, Joseph Fiennes, Russell Brand, Rupert Everett, Morrissey, Bob Dylan, Liam Neeson and Ice Cube
Paris, Day Twenty Five of Sixty. After the girls left last night we took drugs in the form of watching Friends episodes on Netflix. Then I slept pretty well. Up early and did a whole bunch of homework which I have to finish tomorrow. Then I went to meet the three at Benoit and had cassoulet and no starter. There were more of that same dessert—people are obsessed. We then walked from there to the Tuilleries where G. got to go on the carousel and spend some time in the playground. It is some kind of bank holiday. The usual entrance to the Palais Royale was closed. We had stopped for too long a time at Ladurée. We did get into the galleries of the Palais and it was something of a hit. We Ubered back to the hotel where I left them all to have tea and I came home to clean up. Then I took myself downstairs for a beer and met S. coming back from the Pompidou. We put out all the food in the process of gard manger. I thought I should freeze the soup. A whole bunch of it went all over the floor when I tried to pour it into a freezer bag. Apparently I fell asleep and woke up over an hour later and didn’t know I had been asleep and was cranky. Oh well it happens. I do remember sort of shutting myself away in the front bedroom. The night was terrible. There was so much noise and my nerves seem to be very much on edge. I will focus on the Cancerian intros today.
Cancer woman’s life journey can be characterized as one long transition from the seeming chaos of her youth toward achievement of her own natural rhythm. Long before Linda Ronstadt marched to the beat of a different drum, Cancer girls have often felt emotionally abandoned at a tender age, echoed in some form of their own self-abandon. It takes time’s ticking tides to emotionally process Cancer woman’s way to a calmer shore—flood myths are endemic to the cosmic energy of the sign. Instinct defines the Cancerian realm, and the lady Moonchild, in particular, develops a gut variety by way of fully embracing any rocky circumstance of her youth; the inevitable embarkation therefrom; any subsequent feelings of being “at sea” along with strong senses of hope and promise; before she can ultimately experience deliverance. Cancer and the Moon rule the 4th astrological house of both the home one comes fromand the home one creates for oneself. It is the house of re-creation, which is why one should never give up hope that a Cancer woman will land herself a happy, healthy and emotionally secure existence. In the meantime, it can be quite a shite show. When Neil Young warbled “she’s like a hurricane” one might place bets he had an emotionally loaded Cancerian woman in mind. Jennifer Saunders (Edina Monsoon!), Lindsay Lohan, Carly Simon, Pamela Anderson, Ludivine Sagnier, Courtney Love, Busy Phillips, Sue Lyon, Cyndi Lauper, Penny Arcade, Julianne Hough, Sofia Vergara, Phoebe Legere, Gisele Bündchen, Karen Black, Jerry Hall, Jessica Simpson, Kelly McGillis, Monica Lewinsky, Princess Diana, Imelda Marcos, Leona Helmsley, Lizzy Borden and Helen Keller are all Cancerians who, at some point or other, might have been a bit upset and needed to lie down.
Cry us a river: It can be near comical to peruse a photo collage of Cancer women, as, more often than not, their expression suggests they might be on the verge of tears. Cancer females embody the cardinal-water assignation of their sign. They are fountains of feeling ruled by Mother Moon which, we know, controls the tides. These daughters of Phoebe and Selene are indeed one with their feels, which can make them wildly chaotic or oh-so touchingly histrionic. Little wonder they make the most emotionally accessible actresses. We cite the character of Cinderella as one of the Cancer woman archetypes. Like Cindy, Cancer lady is equal parts lamenting and hopeful, mirroring the expressions of the waxing and waning Moon. Indeed, she employs the power of wish-craft, floating her hopes toward the deliverance of desired results. The Cinderella myth is filled with nocturnal imagery—moon-powered elements—from pumpkins, which grow by night, and mice and rats, which are nocturnal. The woeful beauty of the Cancer woman can be captivating, inviting salvation, if not some savior prince/ss to trot up on a white charger or in a convertible white Cooper Mini. A list of pouty Cancer princesses includes Liv Tyler, Eva Green, Juno Temple, Shelley Duvall, Deborah Harry, Frances McDormand, Linda Cardellini, Kristen Bell, Diane Kruger, Clair Forlani, Phoebe Cates, Isabelle Adjani, Elizabeth McGovern, Meryl Streep, Princess Diana, Sandra Oh, Judy Greer, Melissa Rauch, Edie Falco, Stephanie Seymour, Selena Gomez, Linda Ronstadt, Ginger Rogers, Eva Marie Saint, Diana Rigg, Janet Leigh, Olivia De Havilland. Boo hoo.
The sign of Cancer is ruled by Mother Moon and it governs the fourth astrological house of, among other things, the female population. Cancer embraces a world view, that of existence,asfemale, a mother sourceneeding our protection. It is distinguished as the cardinal (initiative) water sign of the zodiac—think of a literal bubbling spring or source of a river. Cancer women, by their nature, embody this energy, being fountains offeeling. Cancer men, meanwhile, tend to work onthe emotions of others, especially women, to whom the male Moonchild appeals on the level of being the kind of guy a girl or fellow can take home to mother: A clean, well-scrubbed, if not eternally collegiate candidate for a reproductive and/or romantic partnership. Cancer Man doesn’t fancy himself the king that Leo does; he prefers to play a comfier, seemingly sidelong role akin to that of prince consort to some loving force-of-nature on whose emotional support he is kept aloft, swept-along, navigating his way toward a life of shared success. Cancerian Earnest Hemingway’s Jake Barnes is drawn in by the stronger female force of of Brett Ashley. It’s the same in same-sex relationships. Cancer man demurs in day-to-day decision making, only sweating the big stuff, letting a more domineering, but no less type-A, loved one feels/he’s running the whole show, but it’s not always so. Faster than Kevin Bacon can drop his wife’s name into a sentence, Cancer guy will sidle in sideways, just like a crab, and assert his agenda, taking hold of situations with a vice-like tenacity you never saw coming. For your consideration: A list of uncalloused Cancer men who have mutually benefitted from having their oft sappy chick-flick selves appeal to a predominantly female, not to mention a more dominant-male, population: Tom Hanks, John Cusack, Harrison Ford, Tobey Maguire, Tom Cruise, Patrick Wilson, Daniel Radcliffe, Milo Ventimiglia, Benedict Cumberpatch, Topher Grace, Vin Diesel, David Hasselhoff, Robin Williams, Chris O’Donnell, Burt Ward, Chris Isaaks, Billy Crudup, Chace Crawford, Kevin Bacon, Josh Hartnett, George Michael, Justin Chambers, Michael Phelps, James Brolin, Jimmy Smits, Kris Kristofferson, Prince William.
Cancer men seem to foster support from the general populous, striking a chord and becoming synonymous with their field of interest. Orville Redenbocher. Richard Branson. Jesse Ventura. Michael Flatley. It’s amazing what some of these guys can be famous for. As, quicker than you can say David Hasselhoff, the sign of Cancer has a way of breeding those who capture public imagination and make bank on it Many a Cancerian man distinguishes himself as a single name who defines a whole area of expression—Hemingway, Rembrandt, Bullfinch. Forbes. And why? Because Cancerian men are narrowly focused on their field with a wide stance in their appeal. And as a bit of a side note: Whether or not you actually believe we went to the Moon, the fact remains that Cancer men often do end up looking a lot like the Man in it. You decide whether or not he might also be described as cheesy. Behold the bald and the beautiful Cancerian males who glow with a kindly condescension, a subtle superiority and a distant devotion. And beware the chrome-dome glare: Patrick Stewart, John Glenn, Yul Brynner, Jeffrey Tambor, Terrence Stamp, Larry David, Jesse Ventura, Montel Williams, Anthony Edwards, Donald Faison, Michael Jace, Vin Diesel, Gerald Ford, Kurtwood Smith, Forest Whitaker, Mel Brooks, Danny Glover, Mike Tyson, Zinedine Zidane, Dalai Lama, Anthony Edwards, Jackie Earle Haley, Dan Aykroyd, David Drake, Prince William and all the future folically challenged Canerian fellows.
Paris, Day Twenty Six of Sixty. Feeling okay and getting caught up on the work for sure. I will spend the morning getting more homework accomplished. Then I will walk up Saint Denis toward where we stayed that time and realize I should just meet the gals at lunch at La Laiterie. Salad of brussel sprouts and red apple and mackerel and onglet with (maybe sweet?) potatotes. Then a quick pass through Bon Marché and onto school where we talk about voyages écosolidaires. I apparently did too much homework, but it is happening. I’m trying not to be afraid of wanting what I want to want. I know there is a formula in all of this for greatest success. Once I get through to the last month of the Blague year, I will definitely spend the time beginning to sort out what needs writing. I am going to go through all my notes and review tomorrow, which will be my major catch up day. We walk back from school and head directly to La Fronde for a pint and a homey meal. I had some risotto with crevettes and some lovely wine. The apartment has been cleaned. We have three nights back to back of more dinners out this week and I definitely start Bikram, now, on Thursday, which I’m readying myself to do. We tried to watch a very bad film called Otherhood but only lasted seven minutes before putting on I Feel Pretty for the hundredth time. I fell asleep in the salon secondaire and was coughing before moving myself into the front bedroom. I really didn’t sleep all that well, mainly because I have so much to-do list items floating around my brain. I needed to look up three things: Deneuve, Chatelet and one other which I can’t remember. I will consult I’m hoping S. will recall what these things might be. I was definitely thinking during the night that it is strange we haven’t seen how it is that Meg is packaging these pitches. I will also consult S. on that. Still plenty of time here. Although it is half over. I will not want to leave when the time comes I don’t think. That said I want to get this ball moving, fill these coffers and otherwise rock the house. It would be wonderful to get the business plan reworked so that we can optimize. I’m not really sure how muc I love or don’t love some or all of the pieces, but I do think we have the opportunity to make everything quite strong. I also think we have the potential, given our connections, to blow the ef out of it all. There might have to be a secondary line of Chinese product but I am hoping not actually. We must go super high end. We must be older. All these things that came out in all our chats with all our friends. What I cannot afford is failure of any kind at this juncture.
Artemis, the goddess of the hunt, whom Homer called a “lioness amongst women” is the premier archetype of the Leo woman, one that resonates through mythology, literature and in flesh- and-blood females of the sign. Artemis is goddess of wild creatures; and Leo women are, in some regard, feral females, on the loose, often latch-key children, if not parentless, at an early age. The aptly named Kit (Katharine) in Taming of the Shrewspeaks to the heterosexual Leo woman, anyway, seeking to be trumped, domesticated, by the rare man that she doesn’t outshine—the Sun is her ruler. Cue Leo lady Annie Oakley’s refrain to her would-be love in Annie Get Your Gun: “Anything you can do I can do better.” Indeed, Leo women best the best men at their own games. They’re on the hunt for a man who’s tougher, more wild and passionate than they, playing cat and mouse with weaker male specimens. But let’s not bring J. Lo’s Marc Antony into this. Although Cleopatra, with her own Marc Antony, was a living Leo archetype—Cleo just so happens to be a cliché name for a cat. Catherine in Wuthering Heightsis another emanation of the feral Leo, whose cosmic soul mate was the wild Heathcliff. No wonder Leo Kate Bush relates to and sings as that character, just as she appears as Artemis on the cover of her record, Hounds of Love. It’s a whisker’s breath from Kate to Tori Amos. And we can name queen Leo superstars all day long, from Lucille Ball (read: ball of light, like the Sun) to Madonna to Julia Child to J.K. Rowling to Coco Chanel to Martha Stewart to Amelia Earhart to Mae West to Jackie O, not to mention such luscious—and they look like lionesses!—Leo ladies like Charlize Theron, Iman, Jennifer Lawrence, Amy Adams, Honor Blackman, Natasha Hensridge, Vivica Fox and, of course, the classic catwomen Halle Berry and Julie Newmar.
Leo woman draws on a secondary, complementary archetype to Artemis (Roman: Diana), which is that of the Goddess of the Hearth, Hestia (Roman:Vesta). The sign of Leo rules the heart; and the Sun, the heart andhearth of the solar system, rules it. Though Leo women can be most predatory in channeling that huntress energy, particularly in public life, fairly stalking their successes;, in private, they take firm hold of the center around which others draw or revolve. What paradoxically connects the seemingly opposite Artemis and Hestia is that they are both protectors—of the wild and of domestic life, respectively. As that “lioness amongst women,” we see in the Leo lion a dual nature of ferocity and maternal affection. Indeed, real lions are matriarchal, females of the species being the prime movers of their prides. And it’s the same with the human variety: Leo men are typically laid back, lovers of lolling about, while Leo women are fiercely energetic self-starters with often gappy toothed, predators’ smiles. Some savage Leo sweethearts include: Anna Paquin, Elizabeth Moss, Madonna, Gillian Anderson, Rose Byrne, Vera Farmiga, Amy Adams, Mila Kunis, Jennifer Lawrence, Sandra Bullock, Kate Beckinsale, Kristin Wiig, Iman, Jaqueline Kennedy Onassis, Selena Gomez, Jennifer Lopez, Lynda Carter, Louise Fletcher, Helen Mirren, Elizabeth Berkley, Taylor Schilling, Yvonne Strahovski.
The sign of the Lioness boasts any number of disarmingly, flakey, kooky, wiggy, ditzy feline females who are really anything but. For Leo woman plays cat and mouse to outmaneuver the rest of us at every turn. The zodiac’s Queen of Hearts has all the right moves on this chessboard of life, and sometimes letting you think she’s a little out to lunch works something like an ambush. Leo ladies of the stage and screen are often typecast in this very role. Think of Gracie Allen, Lucille Ball, Lisa Kudrow, Victoria Jackson, Sally Struthers, Barbara Eden, Madonna, Mila Kunis, Loni Anderson, Melanie Griffith, Elizabeth Berkley, Christine Taylor, Kristin Chenoweth, Connie Stevens, Rosanna Arquette, Debra Messing, Shelly Winters, Jill St. John, Georgia Engel, Alice Ghostley.
In our book Sextrology, the Leo Man chapter is titled The Natural. So many tawny men of the sign are wont to go native, being astrologically designed, like their totem Lion, to easefully roam the great expanses of the planet. They are attracted to cultures and peoples with a primal throb. The lion is born free and stays that way. Like its ruler, the central Sun, the heart-center of the body is governed by the sign of Leo. The beating of the heart is the rhythm of life; and besides boasting many drummers among its number, the sign of Leo breeds men who live life at its own pace or, at least, they believe that they do. For, the zodiac’s king might naturally confuse his own will with that of the divine. He assumes he’s Right. The shadow side of the king, of course, is the tyrant and anyone acquainted with a Leo man has probably seen it creep in. The golden Leo nature boy abhors artifice and is near maniacal in his embracing of authenticity. He is, by nature, skeptical of phonies or over-sophisticates. Whether he possesses the rugged outdoorsyness of Davy Crockett, the pastoral, bare aesthetic of Thomas Eakins, the natural sweepingness of filmmaker John Huston, the arid no-nonsense of Sundance king Robert Redford, the hempish ways of Woody Harrelson, the prairie rattyness of Garrison Keillor, the vegan crunch of Casey Affleck or the going-nativeness of William Clark, Herman Melville, Cartier-Bresson, Lawrence of Arabia or even Ginger Baker, for that matter, Leo men celebrate the beating of creation’s heart and extol our earthly kingdom and mankind in its most noble natural, state. Some other Leo hunks include the “Conans” Jason Momoa and Arnold Schwarzenegger, “Thor” Chris Hemsworth, “Hulk” Eric Bana, and “Avatar” Sam Worthington.
Just the previous sign of Cancer is ruled by the mother-principled Moon, which portrays creation as a nurturing goddess-source from whom all matter springs (cardinal water), august Leo, ruled by the father-principled Sun, sees creation from the view of a distant, fiery sky god (fixed fire) to be revered, if not feared. Leo rules the 5th astrological house, that of co-creation with god, the mantle of which Leo man, the zodiac’s own lion king, willingly dons, embodying entitlement, if not divine right. Let’s just say he assumes authority easily, as author, akin to Arthur, boy-king, like David, taking the central role. The Sun symbol is a dot inside a circle—think Arthur seated center at table. The lion is king… of beasts; David slays Goliath, read: his own giant beastly nature, just as Arthur subdues and civilized the pagan wilds, inside himself. Leo man can be a hot head. There we said it. Little wonder that the shadow side of the sign has spawned those having such dictatorial sway: Napoleon, Mussolini, Castro. But seriously, think of the many tyrannical film directors and kings of that industry, those who will make or break others’ careers: Hitchcock (go ask Tippi), Demille, Kubrick (go ask Shelley), David O. Russell (go ask Lily). Huston, Redford, Cameron, Polanski, Penn, M. Night Shayamalan, Kevin Smith. And then there are Leo actors who play god-complexed egoists with a vengeance: Robert Deniro, Jonathan Rhys Meyers, Matt LeBlanc, Andrew Garfield—probably also that ginger cat, Garfield—Kevin Spacey, Billy Bob Thornton, Wesley Snipes, David Duchovny, Adam Samberg, Laurence Fishburn, Sam Elliot, Jean Reno, Kevin McKidd, Jeremy Piven and Steve Martin.
Paris, Day Twenty Seven of Sixty. Had weird dream that included both John and Stefan, with both of whom I had found repair. I also had a dream where I kissed S.C. on the lips and one where I was chasing after this kind of young deity and I couldn’t catch up. I think the setting was the metro at Les Halles of all places. I will write to Cricket today. I will finish the last two packages for the 2021 books. And I will begin to map the planets as Thursday begins the process plugging in all the information which is absolutely fine. It shouldn’t take me more than three hours a day. And then I have yoga which is two and lunch which is one. So right there I have a six hour day and this should all happen in the morning because we are not going out for big dinners beginning after this coming weekend. My energy is bound to be in short supply, so getting everything in place as best I can before April begins is the main plan. I am where I am! For the first time in weeks I am finally caught up on this and—as the gods are my witness—I shall never get behind again. There really is no reason to. I have this to write quickly: Eros is a classic archetype of the mutable-water sign of Pisces, along with his mother, Aphrodite, who was born of the foam of the sea. The sign’s symbol fish, linked by a single line, depict the totem fish or dolphin forms that mother and son would take when fleeing danger, remaining connected by an umbilical like cord. Eros is among the primordial, oldest gods (his mother is also his descendent); and yet he is depicted as an eternal babe. Sound familiar? He is the cognate of (the) Jesus (fish) whose mother Mary—a name that means the sea (Aphrodite is also called Mari)—wore a della robbia blue gown, fringed in white, the sea fringed in foam.I forgot to add a thing about being gods of Love. Anyway I cleaned I bathed I sorted out the refridgerator. S. went to the Eiffel Tower with her sister and niece and was meant to come home for lunch but stayed out. I had some leftovers and got very sleepy and made coffee and pushed through and she came home and we worked in separate rooms.
I wrote my entire essay before we got dressed and strolled all five of us to Dyptique and Chez Rene. I had harengs then lamb and spinach. The vibe was weird. Back to that subtle accusatory thing where “there isn’t really anything on the menu for G.” which is total bullshit because there are a thousand things on the menu. There is this acting job that goes on when B. hits the scene. N. was on her phone working for at least half the meal and distracted. And then the order of (two this time) profiterolles and a basically joyless end to the evening. They took a car and we walked. I brought this up to S. who said that no indeed N. texted to say it was the best night ever. Really? Whatever. Maybe she just gets more tense when he’s around? Hard to say. But all very interesting for human nature. S. didn’t mention the fact that we had an offer on optioning Cosmic Coupling. The focus is always on what they (or rather he) is doing and all the drama and every minute detail about his sleeping patterns. I like him but I always feel like I’m on their vacation, even when we are sitting at home. And S. is so naturally attentive to G. that it takes on a theater of the absurd as her parents sit their scrolling through their phones. I was fine. I had a coup de champagne and ordered two bottles of wine for three people. Here is the essay I wrote:
Je n’ai pas vraiment de meilleure ou de pire histoire de vacances à raconter, mais voici ce qui me vient à l’esprit: Comme j’ai dit, pendant ma troisième année à l’université, j’étais sur un programme d’études à l’étranger à Grenoble. Il y avait dix-sept étudiants en tout. La directrice s’appelait professeur Eileen Julien, qui était son nom de jeune fille—elle était mariée avec un autre professeur appelé Mead Over, alors son nom de mariée était Eileen Over, ca veut dire, en anglais « je me penche ». (Mais je m’égare.) Eileen a organisé une excursion pour les étudiants, et deux autres professeurs Grenoblois de la faculté, aux vignobles de Bourgognes et pour visiter les musées et sites archéologiques et tout ça de la région. À la fin de la journée nous nous sommes retrouvés dans un hôtel à Macon qui avait un restaurant basique mais pas mal de tout. Après le dîner, le propriétaire a annoncé que l’hôtel serait fermé à clef pour reste de la soirée et que personne ne pourrait sortir. Cela a posé un défi !
Je partageais une chambre avec deux autres mecs : Philipe, un gars timide avec qui je vivais en dortoir deux ans avant, et Jean, un autre gars que j’avais rencontré récemment et qui était aussi espiègle que moi. In n’était que 21h! Et nous n’étions qu’au premier étage ! Alors, nous avons attaché ensemble nos draps de lit et les avons ancrés autour de la jambe d’un meuble solide, avons demandé à Philipe de prendre fermement. Ainsi, nous nous sommes échappés et sommes allés à la seule discothèque de Macon et sommes revenus vers 4h du matin. Nous avons jetés des cailloux à la fenêtre, et un Philipe endormis nous a jetés les draps. Nous sommes remontés nous sommes endormis instantanément. Le petit déjeuner a été manqué, et nous nous avons réveillés quelques minutes avant la départ du bus. Pas de problème : nous n’avons pas à refaire nos bagages car nous resterions une autre nuit. Mais oui, problème : nous nous pouvions pas délier les draps.
Alors quand nous sommes montés dans le bus, j’ai dit à Eileen, tout rapidement, « nous sommes sortis hier soir, nous avons attachés les draps ensembles et nous n’avons pas pu les délier. Elle a juste cligné des yeux et m’a regardé—elle ne m’aimait pas beaucoup comme c’était. Un autre jour rempli de ruines et d’églises et des ponts et des musées (et des gueles de bois), puis retour à l’hôtel. Eh bien, ce n’était pas bon. Le personnel de l’hôtel avait fait tous nos bagages et ils attendaient dans le hall d’accueil. Nous étions expulsés. Et comme nous partagions des chambres, tout le monde était mélangé avec tout le monde. C’était un cauchemar. Eileen était furieuse. J’ai dit « je te l’ai dit ». Elle a dit qu’elle pensait que je plaisantais. Enfin elle et les autres professeurs ont convaincu les propriétaires de nous laisser rester. John et moi n’étions pas très populaires au dîner ce soir-là et à peu près tout le monde mangeait en silence.
Rappelez-moi de vous parler du prochain voyage (à Rome) que les étudiants ont organisé sans les professeurs comme chaperons !
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 2021 Wheel Atelier Inc. All Rights Reserved. Get your HAUTE ASTROLOGY 2021 Weekly Horoscope ebooks by Starsky + Cox.