Scorpio 14° (November 6)

So yesterday someone from the wizarding world contacted us. I suppose it was just a matter of time. The longest email on record, but not something we are going to do. It’s day four of the election, waiting on Pennsylvania this morning to deliver some fabulous chunks of Biden vote. I am fatigued from all of this. Our guy just pulled ahead thankfully. I can start feeling hopeful and maybe even normal again. Patience is what is being prescribed and I too need to be that much more patient with myself. There is no sound from the melted pile of circus peanuts. It is hiding upstairs somewhere. They have little to no success with their legal claims, its own party is backing off him as are Fox news. The pressure on the Republicans and conservative media will only grow—they will need to divorce themselves from its conspiracy theories. We are two countries is the takeaway. If we had voted in a progressive in the primary, we would be losing right now. As progressive as I am in thought and feeling, we would have shot ourselves in the foot if we leaned too far leftward. I’m going to start my day in the kitchen, working on menus and preparing food for the coming days. I will get four pages in the can today as well for sure. I will also lie to myself and not do it. It doesn’t matter. Wood is being delivered and work will happen. I jst need to keep showing up and keep backing off for now. Lots to be so grateful for.

The following blocks of text are exceprts from my first year of  Blagues, nos. 1096-1100. 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.

Thursdays always feel a bit steely. Maybe it’s that Thor’s day thing, Jupiter and his lightning bolts. Thursday is a bit like wearing tight shoes. You know there is a reward for really pulling out this corner of the week, hopefully setting Friday up to feel like it should, one to kick off early. Of course, on Fridays, I kick off early to clean the entire house and cook ahead for the weekend.

We had two clients today, a Libra and a Sagittarius client from opposite ends of the world. It was a power couple of clients today actually, but not literally, the most currently overused word in our world today. All feels like ascension on this day, not an easy one but not overly hard won.

We will dip into Provincetown and putz around. Someone once said that life is a paradise for people with passions, I’m paraphrasing. By this time I am happy to be having pasta. I actually made linguine clam sauce yesterday, which I failed to mention, so this night, in pasta craving aftermath, it will be gluten-free chickpea pasta with red onion and anchovy and parsely. Food is an essential character in my life in case you didn’t know. We have a new cookbook from Sofra that I”m really excited about. I am going to blow through the remainder of my work day and sit down and read it.

So many wonderful things are going on right now. The expansive Jupiter energy also does tend to permeate a Thursday. And then there’s Ru Paul so quickly. I know people like to run down Drag Race but I still find it terribly relaxing. If I’m going to watch a Scorpio Queen of Television I’m going to watch RuPaul not Roseanne.


Struck with the notion that my own interprestations of the Sabian symbols might, in itself, make a great book. We need to get in with a publisher with whom we can do more blockbuster books, more academic books, more poetic books and more point of sale commercail fun books. I also want Emily to start getting into our world of design. Emily for A.C.

Also getting a loan to open a local store which would be called A.C. and we can always move to a bigger one. We definitely need a commercial space to work from—and one where we can fall asleep if need be—and/or it comes with an apartment which would be solely for the Summer Consultancy.

Food today is a French Poodle. That’s what we call a souped up version of Poodle which is typically kale, quinoa, avocado and chickpeas. This night the chickpeas were cooked in a pan and slightly carmelized then mushed a bit, like peas, with vegetable filled bit of leftover soup. Delicious. The quinoa was also made in chicken stock and the kale was extra sautéed with garlic instead of steamed.

I had taken a wee tour of Orleans and got there what I needed. After dinner we sat by the fire sipping an organic red and talking, talking, talking about, well, everything under the Sun. I knew I would be alone the next day and that I wanted to make good use of my time. So often I just sprawl out like Oscar Madison for no good reason, spending half the time alone making a terrible mess, and then the other half already having to clear up in some kind of panic, which is silly.

It’s like some kind of boyish male rebellion that I suppose does get some ya-ya’s out: Drinking a little to much too earlywhile watching bad “action adventure” television, while still getting a little work done, walking around without anything on; leaving lights on in rooms all over the house; smoking; looking at porn for no apparent reason as it truly does nothing for me. To be honest the sounds of sex turn me on more than seeing it which can put me off as it never really looks as satisfying as it sounds.

I will make weird food like sauerkraut (and end up eating the entire giant Bubby’s jar) with healthy chicken sauces it, pouring some molasses over the lot, as it sizzles in the cast iron pan, slathering all with mustard, and eating it in a hurried passion. Drinking bottles of sparkler water straight out of the bottle, leaving trails of nuts or edamame, goat cheese crumbles and bread crumbs in the kitchen and dining room as I snack on the fly, suddenly, at intervals, all through the day and night.

I will shower outside which is good.


It dawns on me, Saturday, that I all but abandoned the fortnight feel of what I wanted to set up while still in the sign of Aries. So now, I must awake and read a chapter a morning. We might call it this morning’s chapter. The Blague page simply stays open all day to catch ideas and record doings. We celebrated the sign of Aries and I will punch that up a bit. Then in a few days I shall be in the sign of Taurus—I know we already are but I”m not, which makes sense just to me.

I made this note about trans people combining the energy of the sign, finding balance between the inner polarity of the sign, while cisgender folks work the outer polarity that the sign has with its opposing sign.

So I will have to pretend a bit that I did this with Aries—dialoguing with the people that is—while I get up to speed with Taurus. I have made some inroads so it’s not too much a stretch. I can certainly play catch up on notes for the new book and such in the first fortnight of the month as I also put the HA books into place, at least that’s the hope. That is to say I’ll play catch up on the first two signs, I’ll put the HA books together, minus the needed front matter. And I’ll thus spend the second half of May focused on reading the Calypso Blagues and going through year one to extract some possible themes. So long as I have something June 1. I can pull the bell and I’ll have three full months to make all the other magic. It really is plenty of time I tell you. And if someone big pops into the mix, a real headliner, than tant mieux.

I am already sensing such a new vocabulary emerging as I consider the next book. And let’s face it I have a number of good book ideas inside my brain and a number of them can be ebooks which I self publish as well. I still like the idea of finding a good house that will do print only for some of these ideas.

As a writer I love the symbols of punctuation, the Chiffres et Lettres of things. I just falshed back to my Elements of Style book at the other one which my high school published and I loved so much. I really do want to find that book. I’m ready to reeive and to empty out all real and metaphorical file cabinets. I do want my real file cabinet to contain not too distant archives of things. We could buy some beautiful wood file cabinets. I will be posting about popular peeps. I want to get my nitty gritty work done in the morning.

But back to the new book ideas. It will be my job now to continue to flow ideas into the right places. It’s a metaphor for pretty much everything right now.


Sunday nothing happened, or did it? I think not. There might have been some hope and there might have been a lot of buildup that was otherwise alleviated, but nothing occured quite. It was the be all end all, already, of television addiction; even though I didn’t quite surrender until evening, and overnight, into the wee hours. I mainly spaced out and went from room to room moving bits of whatever—plates, clothes, food—without much purpose. There were different birdsounds than usual outside, some ended up being atypical (love?) calls from our familiar birds.

I could be promoting Fauxnique’s show coming up at Oberon, or doing home yoga. I think I told S about Michelle T from the Feminist press. I wonder if I should throw parties or would it kill me. I came upon a notebook filled with scribblings from 20014 looks like. And a to-do list that had fourteen numbered items, one of which was to “call John Richardson, another “note to Goldwyn sis” which I guess meant to Tony’s sister.

I have fallen a litte bit behind on this and need remind myself, as I play catuch up, that, come tomorrow, I am reading through all my entries I made on first new C boat trip.

Meanwhile I can start going through and updating the minutes. And I do need to go back and find the things I recently wrote about Gemini and Libra and plug them in where they belong. The whole point is to begin charting next year’s planet moves as I read through these C Blagues and then back through starting at October 7 or something like that. Things two things can happen simultaneously, and any new thoughts on the signs can aris spontaneously, as they are already accumulating in any case.

Then I can sit with my planner, which should be quite nutsy boltsy for May that is to say write the HA books, moins intros, and just simply map out new bits for show, extracting from my reading and reworking these thoughts into drafts, while following original structure laid out. The only other thing to do is to have a meeting about Nextrology proposal.

In the afternoon Afterglow hours we must schedule resend of returning sponsors and send first round to new, missionary and sparkler sponsors. I believe I’ve already made drafts. I will also contact hotels but I have to negotiate that against writing a note about S + C summer consultancy And with that I also wish to write a very brief statement of fact that can double as a press release…something like

Celebrated authors and leading astrologists Stella Starsky + Quinn Cox have been conducting their “summer consultancy” on Cape Cod for over a decade. Modern mystics with an international following of clients, Starsky + Cox combine degrees in psychology and astrology and have been called “psychics to the stars” (Vanity Fair), “the favored astrologers of fashion insiders” (Elle), a word-of-mouth phenomenon (Time) and TK.

Starsky + Cox are authors of the best-selling Sextrology (HarperCollins), Cosmic Coupling (Random House) and their own series of Haute Astrology horoscope books. The have contributed to countless publications, sites and have appeared on numerous radio and television programs, most notably, as regular guests, on “Chelsea Lately” on E!


Today was the kind of binge watch I live for. Recordings of “Trust” and “Silicon Valley”, which is knocking it out of the park this year, plus Barry and “Howard’s End” and Paddington2 and Wonder Woman, with some “Troy”s thrown in for good measure. As of Mayday, one doesn’t watch anything but dwindling “Drag Race” for a giggle. I can truly wait on all other things, televisual.

My sleep was weird and I was up during the night, and up permanently by four when I had sardines on toast. There was very little to clean up after being alone these days to make the world sparkingly presentable to the returning goddess who was truly divine in that she brought duck liver paté, le tur cheese and innumerable crackers. It was a binge day all around, though we shared just a little Lambrusco, a word that might appear most often of any in this Blague of late. And then just as quickly, it will disappear

Going wineless for the next fortnight. Fortnights are the best I can do without red wine that tastes of violets and manure—if you’re lucky enough to be invited to my house (once a fortnight) you might get to taste our gorgeous house red. In between times I am looking at reducing. So red and reduce, red and reduce. Anyway with summer here I spend a lot of time in the car between Provincetown and Wellfleet By The Sea.

There is so much more to write between 5 and 7 am….and I’m just at my computer these days at 7 so I must try to step things up a bit. With the warm weather and the extended days of light I can have had my outside time and still get a whole bunch of work done between the pm version of those hours, so six of one half a dozen of the other, a terrible expression invented by a so-so mind, I’m guessing. I’m also grasping, reaching, feeling somewhat overextended these days to be sure.

One of my first television heroes was Oliver Douglas. I remember already relating to his experience of being surrounded by crazy people—people of the town to which he insisted on moving—even his wife, who didn’t want to go there. And since it was his idea he was determined to make it work. I think I related to this because my family of origin—father, mother, sister—were all absolutely bonkers in their own way. And I was the odd man out. I said in my adolescent years, upon witnessing the opening credits of Superman two, when three prisoners are trapped in a prism spinning through space—to me that summed up the rest of my family’s karmic relationship, to which I was just an accessory.

Green Acres, which played on the theme, perhaps of the grass being ever greener on the other side, to me was a metaphor for growing up in an alcoholic family where the crazies are normal and you’re made to feel crazy, gaslighted from the getgo. Green lighted and gas lighted. Bob Newhart, Bob Hartley, was the same, really. His wife wasn’t bonkers like Oiver’s, often aligned with him, which was a bit more comforting, but everyone else was off the wall except for his crazy patients who always ended teaching him a lesson.

If I were to consider myself a comedian, which I’d like to do—or at least a comic writer of sorts—I suppose I don’t keep my jokes secret the way others do, but pour them out daily, if they come via this Blague (means joke in French), which, the irony being, nobody really reads. And I’m kind of fine with that, strangely. I am secretly really quite shy. But this is a year where I really have to challenge myself and fail doing it or else I will go on feeling rather unfulfilled. And then those crazies hurtling through space in their prism, really will have won.

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.