Scorpio 28° (November 20)
Was very anxious this morning to a level I haven’t been in a while. I think the problems on the farm are really weighing on me more than I imagined. The lawyer will pay a visit today and that will prove fruitful. I will unlikely get any actual work done as I want the place looking sparkly and I need to move my body around in any case. Going to make delicious flounder filets with spicy bok choy and white turnip mash. Finished Queen’s Gambit which was truly excellent in the end. We are managing to have fun through it all. It is really stressful though, to be sure. Anyway, let the healing begin. Went down a very deep English Beat rabbit hole, which felt fantastic.
The following blocks of text are exceprts from my first year of Blagues, nos. 1166-1170 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 man is a throwback. He is cosmically steeped in tradition, born with an old-world sensibility, a practical penchant for tried -and-trued methods, and reverance and romanticism for former grandeur in any number of forms. This is archetypally ordained, it would seem, as the sign is ruled by Saturn, the deposed king of the god’s and ruler of the mythological golden age, that of the Titans, before being overthrown by the classical Olympian gods. Though more primitive a time, the reign of the Titans was something of a paradise, as there was no vice in the world, everybody did the right thing; there wasjust peace and harmony and prosperity; nobody worked to survive, the earth providing in abundance, and people lived to a very old age while retaining their youthful appearance, dying peacfully, though living on as ancestor spirits. Nothing wrong with that; unless you forever long for a world while living in this one, something Capricorn men do in a variety of ways.
Capricorn might live by a solemn moral code—rules and regulations, long-held traditions being attributes of the tenth astrological house associated with his sign—while indulging in certain decadences—decay being a hallmark of his own artistry and aesthetic. There is an inherent wistfulness to his character, fittingly, if not a sorrowful melancholy that is suprising motivating. For, Capricorn is not a defeatist; rather he won’t easily venture that which he’s not pretty much guaranteed to achieve; as such he is highly realistic about what talents he does or does not possess; he never strives to be something that doesn’t come easily. That which does will be given his total all—he’s never one to put eggs in multiple baskets. And being so narrowly focused, he doesn’t entertain. the notion of competition, that is except for the self-kind of beating his own personal bests.
In contrast to Jupiter whose energy is expansive (ruling over the previous sign of Sagittarius), Saturn’s energy is restrictive, containing and retiring. It is about preservation. And Capricorn surely paces himself, like an elder getting through a long day’s events. His tastes tend to the elegantly leisurely—no man perhaps possessses as many pairs of loafers. He is not out to prove…anything. Still, his own self-imposed goals will be as high as the standards of personal conduct he sets for himself. Like the metaphoricaly deposed royal that he is, no matter his worldly origins, Capricorn comports himself with what can only be described as good breeding, which, biologically speaking, is a most vivid example of tradition. Carrying on, in fact, is something Capricorn is wont to do, in every sense of the term. That is to say he can succomb to wailing bouts of melancholia so abyssmal that he must fight to climb out of them. In some ways Capricorn man seems not so much a scapegoat as an escape valve through which not just his own but a sort of collective grief is expressed. Like he’s mourning for all of us. That sense of hurt lends him a serious air, pulling on heart strings and contributing to his overall appeal and profile as a seasoned, experienced, mature and sophisticated a man.
Even at a tender age, this, the Zodiac’s Holden Caulfield, has a wizened lens on the world, which motivates him to gather his rosebuds as he may; which manifests in something of a paradoxical manner: Capricorn, whose sign motto is I use, will waste not a moment in pursuing his dreams, working every wrinkle in time for accomplishment; while, at the same time, he sows more wild oats and samples more earthly delights than any man in the Zodiac. Of course, if doing so conflicts with that notoriously strict moral code, he may wrestle self-loathing on that score. For the most part, though, Capricorn doesn’t find his lofty aspirations and licentious affectations to be mutually exclusive. Like the goat god Pan living in Arcadia, even the most urbanite Capricorn has a pastoral view of existence—simple and quiet but for the rutting of satyrs and nymphs. He is, in fact attracted to rustic types with whom intimate relations will smack of certain corruption. He likes to have the upper hand in relationships, as a rule, often partnering with people who in no way threaten to get up in his goatish grill. Let’s bring the catcher Caulfield back in to illustrate the Capricorn male paradox: He wants to at once save and slaughter the innocence of life, to preserve it so to savor the spoils thereof.
Like his mythic ruler, Saturn, Capricorn is all about divine decadence. Saturn is god of seed sowing, and yet, with his signature scythe, he is the prototype of the grim reaper. Also of Father Time, which seems to be on Capricorn’s side. He is an enduring character who moves, albeit sometimes at a tortoise’s pace, from strength to strength. Even when suffering a personal fall, he rarely slips so far that he can’t pick himself up to continue his ascent toward his next milestone. Capricorn David Bowie even rose from the dead, Lazurus-like. And we may find that young Holden recovered from his own breakdown—depending on what Capricorn J.D. Salinger may’ve published posthumously.
The most monumental of women, even pint-sized Capricorns pack an iconic punch. She is at once a staunch and capricious character, depending on the stimuli. Most people will experience her as the former, only a handful of intimates getting glimpses of the latter. Much of the ongoing Capricorn condition is hinged on affecting a certain flow between the more rigid and more carefree sides of her personality—to find the freedom inside her infamous self-rules and -regulation and to employ them as solid scaffolding from which her boundless spirit may safely soar. Ruled by Saturn, the planet of structure and containment, she is born with healthy boundaries. Whereas Capricorn man draws on the archetype of the mythic Saturn, Capricorn woman derives power and meaning from his female counterpart, Rhea, whose name means “ease.” This might be music to Capricorn ears as, from youth, she is used to hearing and feeling that life must be hard. In truth, the mountaineering Goat is drawn to great heights of achievement, tough roads to hoe, but this is Capricorn’s happy paradox: As she matures she increasingly finds success in her professional and personal callings the more she eases into their processes. In our book Sextrology we call Capricorn woman The Sleeper. She is, by would-be cosmic decree, something of a late bloomer, all the hard work of her youth contributing to what might appear, to outsiders, as latebreaking overnight success. And they’d never seen her sweat.
In mythology, Rhea is goddess of motherhood; she the “grand mother” and “goddess of generations”, plural. Her husband ate her first five children; she managed to save her sixth, Zeus, who overthrew his father and freed his siblings. She embodies the passing on to others—she even mentored and gave her grandson, Zeus’ inheritor, Dionysus, her full “estate”, that is to say her brand of power, making him a male nature god, plus perks like her leopard-drawn chariot. She is the embodiment of traditions, endowments being passed down. She comes to us in fairy tales as the fairy godmother, a kindly all-powerful being. All of this goes a long way to illustrate Capricorn woman’s character: Whether or not she herself ever gives birth, the grandness in the she-goat’s character dictates that she play universal mother to a great many, nurturing, mentoring and administering to so-called children on a vast scale, in the abstract or both. Even if she is a literal mother, she is somewhat eccentric and detached. Though thoroughly loving, she imposes a healthy formality, on guard against codepency, you might say, taking a more grandmotherly approach, with one cool remove, to motherhood.
The mythical Saturn, with his scythe, is the symbol of the grim reaper, but Rhea’s brand of “passing on” is in the form of a baton. Likewise, Capricorn’ ambition always includes others. She learns things she can impart; she gains wealth to share it. The Capricorn motto is I use, and she does so for great purpose(s). Born under the cardinal-earth sign, symbolized by a mountain, Capricorn is sure-footed, enduring, in it for the long haul. Rhea’s home is the mountain, also called a horn—Matterhorn means mother mountain. Capricorn is the cornucopia, the goat horn of plenty. The previous sign of Sagittarius, ruled by Jupiter, is about abundance—Capricorn, ruled by Saturn, denotes containment, seeking to preserve the bounties of the world lest they overflow and spoil. To be exact, Capricorn is the Sea-Goat, mountain and lake, a reservoir, a container of all that is abundant and pure. Capricorn woman is reserved and conservative in the truest sense, a cosmic holder of that worth preserving. She is a keeper of postive traditions, generation upon generation, be it knowledge, customs, codes, mores, all such things that will serve the future. She is a human time capsule, a classic, a golden girl from the get go.
Being likened to some kind of grandma, even in her youth, is common for Capricorn. She leads with her serious self, intending to be respected and never trifled with. (If you catch her in a rare moment when you get an opposite impression she’s taken off her granny glasses and down her bun to let off a little steam.) She grooms herself into a person of importance, learned and refined, with ethos to impart. She is culture incarnate, the best of the past, present and future, three points drawing the circle of time (eternity). The cornucopeia, the reservoir; the Petri dish, in which select new growth is cultured . (Never mind that Capricorn Mary Tyler Moore played Laura Petrie on TV in the 1960s, evolving the culture, panicking the patriarchy, by insisting on wearing Capri pants.) The word panic comes from the goat-god Pan, whose wailing melancholy speaks archetypal volumes on Capricorn man. But Capricorn woman is so on guard against would-be gloominess, constantly climbing out of sinking feelings, this becomes the main motor of her self-empowerment. She will overcome. She’s not only been to the mountain, she is it, monumental. As a biproduct of her own edification, she Sherpas others and elevates the ethos overall. She personifies all that is enduring, meaning: lasting and worth suffering.
If the previous sign of Capricorn is all about a past worth preserving, Aquarius is the unwritten future, a time-space from where Aquarian man seems to have been sent. He will be regarded in his youth, distinguished in his family, as being different from the rest. His is a unique brand of signature high intelligence which mightn’t conform to conventional standards; and he tends to latch on to specific areas of interest, typically new, groundbreaking ones, where he can play a part in pioneering a field. In this way he is unpredictable; otherwise, he is a creature of routine, though one which might be considered unusual, working odd hours or otherwise marching to the beat of his own drummer. He will have many aquaintances, or what is more accurately termed followers, but very few close friendships. He may be something of an outlier, and buck whatever system he was brought up in. Whether on a hippy, spiritual or techie type of trip, he finds comfort in the company of other fringe or niche dwellers. Frequently suffering from ugly-duckling syndrome, this awkward geek, more often than not, matures into an alluring and rather imposing figure. Appearances being deceiving, he will always possess a deep sensitivity, a gooey center of vulnerability. More often than not, though, he will adopt a countenance of detachment or even a cliqueish disdain toward others, on high alert for getting hurt in relationships, which tended to be a source of even mild trauma in his youth.
The sign of Aquarius is ruled by Uranus, named for the primordial sky god, that of the univere (space). Uranus means to rain or to urinate which shares the same etymology. It’s assignation to the sign of the Water Bearer is thus thematically in line. Uranus was castrated by his son Cronus (Saturn), and from the severed bits sprang to life several beings, including the goddess of love. In biblial myth John the Baptist is the Water Bearer who also, through baptism, causes others to be reborn, paving the way for his cousin JC , who also is love. What, you wonder, has this to do with the Aquarian male? Well, seemingly from outer space, they are frontrunners, lone voices in the wilderness, bringing what might register as radical news, sticking their necks out, often losing their heads, for their convictions. The only fixed-air sign in the Zodiac, symbolized by a star—the Star card in the Tarot depicts the Water Bearer—Aquarius espouses fixed ideas, facts, truth and convictions; the paradox being that these truths aren’t necessarily evident, but of the as-yet-unproven variety. Cue that saying: Science fiction of today becomes science fact of tomorrow.
It’s like the advent of evolution itself. In the present will surface certain mutations, which, now, are the quirks, the ugly-ducking bits; however it will be along these mutations that evolution, and the survival of any species, will rely. Aquarius man is mutation made manifest—he is the oddity now but his uqnique visions will be the mainstay of the future. He is a walking-talking aha! moment, pouring out new life and understanding to anyone who’ll take a sip. The shadow side of the sign—we all have them—can see him become something of a guru with his own flavor of Kool-Aid. He requires a kind of vague adoration, while he finds one-on-one bonds to be challenging, for a variety of reaons. Sometimes it’s the notion of variety itself—all the romantic and other type possibilities out there—that prevents him from entering into constructs like marriage or monagamy. He might always keep his options open, even when in a commited bond, and bid a partner do likewise. More often than not, though, this laissez faire attitude toward emotional connections stems from having fallen hard in love and lost. Loss is not an emotion Aquarius will care to repeat if he can help it.
I know is Aquarius’ sign motto. It points to his emphatic conviction, while it also speaks to his encyclopedic knowledge about thinks of interest. He really seems to have a computer for a brain, and once he locks in information it is loaded for life. It is difficult to alter his first impressions of anything as he is quick to assign hard and fast labels for people and situations, refusing to waste time on second glances or guessing. This mainly serves him well but it can limit his experience, which, again, isn’t so bad a thing for him. Aquarius, the Star, as compared to his opposite sign of Leo, the Sun, is most comfortable at a distance, but he likewie expects everything to revolve around him. He is patient and will bide his time, happy for a cult following for his ideas, art, invention, activism, creation or even his friendship. He knows instinctively that he is ahead of his time and that others will always need to play catch up. Instead of making this a source of frustration, Aquarius also stays ahead of his game, even enjoying a certain obscurity in which he can further his craft or evolve his art or otherwise devise plans that will, even in some small degree, define our collective future.
In our book Sextrology, we call Aquarius man The Visitor, for oh so many reasons.
She is a contradiction in terms: at once conventional to the point of unironic nerdiness, and yet the freest, unfettered freak on the astrologial block. From childhood, she is folksy, a homebody who revels in the company of close family, finding synergy with certain members, productive and creative ways to spend time bonding. For instance, if she plays the violin and a parent the oboe, she will form, and musically direct, a burgeoning duo. And this will become a theme in her adult realtionships—she likes to do things, perform activities, and otherwise share in the happenstance of life, with others. She makes her friends, meets her mates, in settings where she and like-minds gather, whether at work or play. Many Aquarian women partner with people who perform the same job, role or function as she does. It might be a symptom of wanting to share deeply with an object of affection on as many levels as possible. Some people can find her choice in other people to be questionable. It can seem that she isn’t aspirational enough in relationships. She is, after all, like The Star card in the Tarot, which pictures the Water Bearer, a naturally exalted, twinkling figure, an elevated fixture in her loved ones’ lives. Aquarius is ruled by Uranus, named for the god of the starry universe, and it’s fixed-air status, translating to a point of light, is indeed symbolized by the star; it is the axis- or so-called-opposite sign of Leo which, ruled by the Sun, our home star. Aquarius, with her far away eyes, is forever coming from a different place, and yet she is looked upon as a beacon, a north star, who helps others navigate their own human condition.
Stella (meaning: star) in A Streetcar Named Desire seems, on the surface, to be slumming it with Stanley. But this literary dynamic has mythic roots. The classic Water Bearer is Hebe, goddess of youth, and “daughter”, the maiden form, of the goddess Hera (Roman: Juno). Hebe is indeed divine but falls for the mortal Heracles (Hercules) which means “beloved of Hera.” Hebe is a “descending goddess” deigning to love a mortal who, by that love, is made divine. We see this, too, in the myth of Iris, another “descending goddess” who fell in love with a mortal. Iris is Hera’ messenger, goddess of the rainbow, her path for bringing good news to mortals, and thus elevating them. The seven colors of the rainbow correspond to the seven colored veils of Salome, the female counterpart to John the Baptist, the biblical waterbearer. So? So, archetypally speaking, Aquarius is designed to share her awesome inspiring rainbow unicorn-ness with those who mightn’t realize such magic exists in this world. Also, by raising up, enlightening, even one significant other she has removed from the world, and potentially saved it from, just another brute. To the untrained eye, it seems that she is casting her pearls. Both things can be true. And this is Aquarius woman’s most poignant paradox. For all her starry notions she is bound to play on the ground so raise up those who might feel low. Her sign’s motto is I know and we all look to the Aquarius woman (Oprah, Ellen) for answer.
What the Water Bearer pours out is a balm, a salve, certain salvation, saving grace. This is Aquarius woman’s superpower: She does honor and credit to others by her very presence. She personifies the principle of free and unmerited favor of a kindly cosmos and divine intelligence. Whereas Aquarius man draws on the primordial archetype of the mythic sky god Uranus, Aquarius woman’s metaphysics derive from his female counterpart, the goddess Gaia who is both his mother and his mate. Gaia is the most primeval of classic deities. She is the Earth incarnate, while her name more literally means “life”, “world” or “the totality of all creation,” which perhaps sheds some light on Mia Farrow’s mania for adoption. In ancient art she is depicted as reclining on the earth surrounded by countless Carpi, winged Cupid-like infant gods of earth’s bounty. In the present neopagan view she is the divine spirit of the Earth, which would seem like another paradox, being that, she’s also likened to a distant Star. But was not all of life, all of us, here on Earth, indeed made out of stardust, long ago and far away?
As essentially life-giving as Gaia, (and Aquarius woman) is, she is so sweepingly so as to be impersonal. Yet another paradox of the sign: the Water Bearer feels strongly for the world and for people in general, but she is comparatively cavalier in one-on-one bonds. Like Gaia, who has countless lovers beyond Uranus, Aquarius woman is probably the most free-wheeling amongst women—did you know Uranus is the only planet to roll through its orbit while all others spin on their axis? Stella probably didn’t stay with Stanley, but enjoyed the earthy engagement while it lasted. We joke that Aquarius woman always has a packed bag stashed under he bed. When she goes she’s gone. She personifies Uranus’ brand of energy which is sudden and deviating. It is not only that of evolution, via sudden mutation, but of revolution by way of awakening and revolt. Being such a giver, she won’t waste her grace on the unappreciative—she’ll go where the love is.
Pisces Man floats in and out of your life at will, but he’s always totally present when with you. Years will go by with seeing him, but it feels like no time has passed. The most knowing and yet unknowable of the signs, Pisces functions best unanchored, allowed to materialize, or fade into the ether, as it suits him. However, if he wants in to a certain milieu, just try to keep him out. He has a way of permeating situations, getting through the cracks, like a gas, appealing as a shameless but selfless creature, at once obsequious while taking up a lot of space—he can be very on—often being whomever you want him to be (if not your own personal savior). Pisces is the sole mutable-water sign, which is symbolized by the salt sea, foam, mist, fog and vapor. In our book Sextrology his chapter is called The Drifter for numerous reasons. Besides being unbeholden by nature, he is like a lucid dreamer, holding some overall vision in mind, nothing specific, otherwise giving himself over to experience and letting it take him where it will. The sign is ruled by Neptune, the planetary energy of dissolution; and Pisces man does tend to dissolve into life, giving himself over utterly to experience, letting go and letting…belief carry him. The sign’s motto is I believe, and Pisces embodies it, believing in himself, generally, and in his broad skills and talents to find their ultimate expression. He is impressionistic, nonlinear, taking a big-picture perspective, letting opportunities emerge from the field of his experience. More than most, he lets life dictate his journey, walking the path of least resistance. If he wants to be a fine artist but receives an opportunity to, say, design sets, he will go where that love is, unlike the more singular minded folks among us.
Pisces seems to absorb knowledge as if by osmosis, boasting an encyclopedic understanding of anything and everything. He is typically a visual person drawn to vocations that fall under Neptune’s rule—art, design, film, photography, media, all which deal in certain imagery—given to some fantasy, illusion, enchantment and imagination, as it relates, not just etymologically, to making a little magic. In life and career, Pisces is who he imagines himself to be, typically characterized as a departure from his origins. He is a revisionist in the purest sense of the word, reframing his life to suit his soul instead of trying to fit in or make peace with the circumstances of his upbringing. From the moment he can walk, he is set upon a unique journey, constantly morphing as a result of his many influences and references, erasing from his memory-banks life circumstance that doesn’t support his ever unfolding story line. He sacrifices for his art or other callings but he doesn’t subscribe to a down-and-out lifestyle per se. Pisces tends to put on lofty airs, a signature manifestation of his self-art-direction, adopting a yah style of speech to match his seeming omniscience. He is drawn to rarified enclaves and aspects of culture that might smack of an upper crustiness—at the same time he may frequent certain “underground” realms into which most of us would never care to set foot, but he usually keeps that to himself. Pisces man has seen it all, or at least he’s trying to. And nothing surprises him. Again, like a gas, he seeps in everywhere, achieving a certain omnipresence (to match his omniscience), which is right up his archetypal alley. The Pisces fish are the mythic animal totems of the Aphrodite, also called Mari, and her son Eros, at once the oldest (father) god and yet the eternal babe (son)—see where we are going with this?—yeah, when Pisces Lou Reed said he felt like Jesus’s son, he wasn’t kidding. The itinerant messiah figure fits Pisces to a tee; as does his ability to fall into the arms of the world and let the universe decide his cosmic plan, without struggle but not without sacrifice. And, though he may be god-complexed, he identifies with the marginalized, often surrounded by disenfranchised souls whom he inspires, even at cocktail parties. The twelfth astrological house of Pisces is the poubelle, the trash bin of the Zodiac, and it rules outcasts, pariahs, the forgotten, the exiled, castaways, and misfits.
There’s something magnetic about a person who lives life like he has nothing to lose and everything to gain. By the same token, this can rub people the wrong way. He seems to get life and, well, everything better than the rest of us—and he’ll have us know it. He can’t resist letting the steam out of stuffy situations, with clever and cutting remarks, even when doing so with signature lockjaw-aw affectation. He may feign a jadedness, mastering the eye roll, but, in paradoxical Pisces fashion, it will be false people or faulty situations that become the target of his censure—something that will always have a comedic bite to it, as if to say there is nothing that need be taken too seriously. Pisces may be the one human most naturally programmed with an understanding of his own mortality. He is the wise and powerful Oz of the Zodiac, working his world of illusion for all it’s worth, ultimately revealing certain truths in service of helping the small and meek. Because, maybe, he’s the most accepting of the fact that all roads lead to the same place.
Pisces woman is a delicate creature who in time learns she is tougher than she ever imagined. Naturally soft-spoken, if not a silent figure in her youth, she is an old soul with eyes that seemingly gaze inward. She is the most introspective of the signs and, let’s say, in tune with the more subtle vibrations of existence. Many a Pisces experiences psychic flashes in childhood, which can scare her, ironically causing her to try to shut down that part of herself. In more practical terms, Pisces is the most empathetic of creatures, which can cause her to isolate or otherwise lose herself in social activity or substances or all of the above, at various points in her life. Pisces is the only mutable-water sign, which has various interpretations. First, it speaks to the primordial soup from which all creation comes, whether in terms of the evolution of all life, or the embryotic state in which we are gestated. Pisces’ symbol opposite-facing fish signify the womb-tomb, the alpha-omega, the great beyond from whence we come and to we which will return.
Pisces’ mutable-water is also the salt sea, from which all earthly life crawled, and the foam and the mist and also the fog. Pisces’ female archetype is that of Aphrodite (Roman: Venus) who emerged from the foam of the sea—the Pisces fish are the mythical totems of Aphrodite, goddess of love, and her son Eros (Roman: Cupid), also a god of love, the eternal babe who is also the oldest of the gods, just one of the sign’s many paradoxes, which Pisces often beautifully personifies. In our book Sextrology, the Pisces woman chapter is called The Dream, pointing to the intangible, misty stuff of our soulful reveries, at once elusive and signifying a certain oblivion, while also being the state via which we most probably connect with the proverbial All. And Pisces woman is likewise dreamy, hard to get a hold of, indefinable, and yet so palpably powerful on a level one can’t quite pin down. We become lost in our dreams and yet they save us; and Pisces, the Siren of the Zodiac, has a way of making others lose their footing while being the most inspiring and muse-like of creatures. The word Siren means cord, rope, to join and to bind—those Pisces fish are bound by a central umbilical chord, how Aphrodite and Eros stayed connected—and we sense from Pisces woman a soulful need to connect, not just one-on-one in relationships, but with humanity as a whole as well as on a spiritual level. Many Pisces women become spokeswomen of causes aimed at helping those who are most marginalized or forgotten by society, the gravely ill and other so-called untouchables. Pisces’ compassion for others is rivaled only by her proclivity for leading a dramatic life—no woman has more soap operatic an experience than she.
Like her Pisces male counterpart, Pisces woman tends to be something of an anomaly in her family of origin, cut from a finer cloth than other members of her clan. She is an autodidact and takes pains to better herself, presenting herself as mannered, tasteful, cultured and refined. Often an artistic ability, as a dancer, artist or musician, exposes her to people and prospects not afforded others in her family, where she is groomed for “better things.” She is often unfortunately susceptible and subjected to dominant figures on whom she comes to rely, the transcending of these dynamics and relationships, though difficult, building the kind of emotional muscle that comes to define Pisces’s signature survivor status. She may prematurely run with a fast crowd, swept away by promises of glamour, pleasure, ease and luxury. In time she will learn to provide herself the right amount of all of these elements as fringe benefits to a meaningful life; spent making a difference, typically, in the lives of those challenged to help themselves. She feels and thus takes personally other people’s pain and suffering. And others generally make a great impression on her—she all too easily adopts the personality, cadence and rhythm of those with whom she spends long stretches of time—which is why she oft opts to be reclusive, limiting how much of other’s energy she absorbs.
Ruled by Neptune, planet of dissolution, the mutable-water sign of Pisces speaks to non-material existence, that of the purely spiritual or energetic. (Scientifically, we now know that all matter is energy, anyway.) She is like a spirit in the material world. And she can often seem a blithe one, that is to say casual and indifferent; this being a demeanor she adopts as protection against the extremes to which she can go, whether dragged down by an undertow of despair or riding giant waves of exaggerated, exhilarating emotion. Meditative practices (or even being an avid reader) are ways she can keep, or rather not lose herself in a sea of world problems or, closer to home, in an ocean of emotion. Her love life tends to be tempestuous, but that is, typically in part, by choice. Even a little drama is in this department goes a long way to keep Pisces and her partners on their respective toes. She can’t abide a status quo romantic life. So she may inflate issues so to inspire deeper connection on them, only to then surface and float more blissfully resolved.
I want to once again fall into the arms of the universe, which for me means letting go of all attachment and moving around the world at will. I feel I have to look on the next ten days before heading off to Alaska as a work-holiday of sorts. I must continue to rest and diet and allow my organs some respite, while I get the entire mechanism of the festival totally up and running. Challenge for the Actor, to be sure. Anyway, I know all is doable if I just do what’s right in front of me and take it from there.
TK dropped out of performing at Afterglow; rather she didn’t sign on, spending months finding excuses not to. I would say to her:
Let us agree that you found excuses and unuttered reasons not to send your contract citing that you had no printer. Still when I asked if you were “for sure signed on” so that I could get posters with your name on it designed and printed you said: “YES.” Despite having patiently waited monthys amid many a number of attmpts to get that plus show information and photos you simply never did. In the process, you kept saying “next week” or “after the show opens” and I tried as best as I could to work around you.
Then suddenly most recently you tried to blame the festival for putting some kind of financial pressure on you, saying you were “broke” and “busted” from doing shows back to back this spring and summer and “don’t you [me] know what you’re asking me [you] to do?” as if I was somehow the cause of what you seem to consider your own financial planning.
All I did, months ago, was offer you a slot in the festival, which you accepted; we settled on a date and you confirmed that both you and TK, your accompanist, could do that date. And I sent you a contract. That was April.
You know as the months ticked by that I need you contract and meterials; you knew I was spending donated money on designing and printing. You kept having me wait and to meanwhile bill the show generically. I suggested wording to you on that score and you told me it was wrong and I changed it. Then suddenly last week you say you’re having second thoughts but that you will “update me after” your show opens. It opened four days ago. I emailed and texted you and you didn’t respond. You try to make this seem like my fault—perhaps I’m seeing your process of your trying to convince yourself, yourself.
I, who have championed you for the last seven years, most notably to ART/Oberon, having you several times at festival and in my series at ART/Oberon, which resulted in a subsequent run of your show and a bucolic workshop. I have built audiences for you in Provincetown and Boston, and this is how you treat me. I may have been gaslighted and ghosted in the past, but not at the same time by the same person; and not by someone whom I trusted to be kind and fair to a friend and colleague.
I will add that I now have to redesign, reprint and redistribute materials with your name on it. And I will refrain from sending you the bill. You will pay without my lifting a finger. I feel bad for you. Anyone who does any combination of Starsky + Cox wrong always gets what they give one-hundred-fold. I apologize in advance for what the universe might deliver.
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.
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