Capricorn 4° (December 25)
Christmas was a bit of fun. I spoke to folks on the phone. Roast Beast.
The following blocks of text are exceprts from my first year of Blagues, nos. 1341-1345. 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.
Last night, New Year’s Eve we drove back from Provincetown and S. had businesses further up Cape still; I had this weird loop of Sousa music in my head for a good chunk of the morning; still feeling the fatigue; it turned out weirdly in that it must have been, what, noon? when I fell into a deep nap, waking up completely disorientated, like multi-dimensional if you know what I mean. Any old wig, we made a delicioso Crab pasta with fine linguine and, then again, I was out like a light before 9PM. But not before having which I hope is one last extinction burst of anger and sadness which are never traveling far from ones own sense of remorse. I was in big need of understanding that what other people think of me is really none of my business, however I probably rid myself of the clawing feeling by giving into it so full that you might imagine I was grief stricken (because I was); being Irish I do know how to keen, which is different than wail, as keen is specifically wailing for deceased people; and, well, it was about people who are dead to me, so…Ha! And now I continue my holiday spate of posting the original Cosmic Blague entries which I am myself just now re-reading.
The cosmic order of the day is, well, cosmic order. And boy am I grateful. I just want to let go and let universe. I had so much to accomplish this week, I was meant to perform in a new monthly show on Thursday, and what I thought was a passing cold has knocked me for a loop. So I had to just let it go and let nature take its course, which included four hours of non-stop shivering in the night, and a day of watching classic 1970s movies on Netflix in the daytime, just like the gods intended it. The Sabian Symbol associated with this day at 12° Aries is A Triangularly Shaped Flight of Wild Geese. And the first thing that strikes me, after al these days of geometric shapes and triangles, is that even the most abstract images can be derived from nature or expressed by it. Today is just about letting the intelligence of the natural world dictate the agenda. It speaks to there being more essential things than what’s on the menu today at the White House or who’s said the wrong thing about Bruce Jenner.
Flight is always an expression of the soul; and because this flight pattern is etched upon the Sky, it naturally makes us look up in awe. Little known facts about wild geese too: They won’t leave any of their kind behind in the migration, and if a goose should become ill or injured in the journey and need to land, one other goose will volunteer to keep that ailing goose company, on land, until it recovers or expires. Try to find that kind of loyalty and devotion among we humans. People born on this day, says one source, are open and willing to embrace their lot, without preconceptions of what that actually should be. Doesn’t that sound super relaxing. I think we could all use a little bit of that brand of mindset. Most people seem to bemoan their lot, or talk with their mouths full of sour grapes.
I was thinking this morning, after seeing a familiar character on social media go off on the notion of celebrity that: My sense is that the down-and-out characters that are always complaining about the famous would leap at the opportunity to be a revolting celebrity themselves given half the chance. Ego is ego. Whether you’re a bubble-headed (booby) booby like pick-a-Kardashian-any-Kardashian or a poverty-loving misanthrope whose always pooh-poohing these people, you’re basically the same thing in my book: not a wild goose. The goose isn’t silly, it’s the emblem of constancy, something I find is pretty rare in people in a larger social context but also in intimate bonds. The upshot being that the true gooses really distinguish themselves. Those are the companions in life whom we should value and emulate.
Venus is the planet of union, it’s energy being attractive. I like to imagine those geese in the sky giving us a V for that planet of love. When we are unified, in romantic, familial, fraternal, brotherly or sisterly love, in that V-formation, we are equals and in the proverbial It together, whatever obstacles or hardships may come. Indeed we are more able and even willing to accept what comes our way because it was for no lack of love or protection. It’s only when we feel abandoned that we might act out in an abandoned way. Life is a journey and it sucks thinking you’re always having to be on it alone or worse, in competition with others. Other than one year in little league, I never played on a team; I went to a huge college and mainly lived off campus; I haven’t worked more than probably a total of less than two years, all together, with an office team, and those who know me know I have no family to speak of. So this aspect of life is something I really have to work at as it doesn’t come easy. I can tend to isolate and I have a morbid fear of cliques let alone cults. And yet, as I write this, I seeI realize that I have an adopted family of actors and performers, many of whom belong to the Afterglow Festival family of artists, a most cherished one of whom is called V; I have adopted family, in Europe, in the form of one extended brood, who took me under their wing two decades ago, and of course I have Stella’s family which triangulates around a certain red-haired youngster whose nickname just happens to be Vie.
Today is the New Moon in Capricorn conjunct Pluto and Saturn (and Sun of course). And so it’s time to turn the corner a bit and segue into “second semester.” When Stella and I returned from our study abroad in France to finish up our senior year in Boston, the “second semester” concept became a thing. I had actually initiated it, I think, dating back to my freshman year when, after the first spent in the clutches of a controling (and obnoxious) Scorpio roommate, I moved out of that room, trading with our third “friend” Chris who was at that time becoming much more suited to his friendship with Mike the Scorpio, Chris being the Virgo that he is, and a poster child for that sign at that. I roomed with a Korean guy who spoke very little English and whose really name I don’t think I ever knew but he went by Chris as well. At least that is my vague recollection. He wore those black plastic sandles with the thick cross strap, kind of like Dr. Scholls, and he shuffled in them, just to push the stereotype. I never saw him naked. I never saw Mike naked for that matter. We once all joked about how he got dressed inside the shower, taking actual bits of clothing in with him. In the same conversation, it was revealed that everyone had seen me. I think I was proud of my body then in a way I no longer am; and I do remember feeling that much more average (or rather “textbook” enough) in the penie-department that I didn’t mind flaunting what I had, as boys typically do when they can. I remember saying to Mike and Virgo Chris, “well we all know who has the smallest one”—I meant this guy Marek from Connecticut who was naked more than most, and very comfortable with the fact he had a micro-one apparently—and Mike knew who I meant. But Chris suddenly burst into this rant of “okay, okay et ” thinking that we meant him whom neither of us had ever glimpsed. Oops, we didn’t mean you Chris.
Anyway, “second semester” signalled a marked change from the first. I lost the fifteen pounds I gained in the first; I spent more time alone. But it was really my sophomore year when the seeds of what I now, still, call “second semester” were born. It was then, while sitting around with Chris and Mike smoking bongs, I suddenly shot to my feet and called the study abroad office asking “got anything going to France?”; they had, but it was already booked, but I managed to squeak in, a move that changed my life. I also upended the single dorm in the Earth House I was inhabiting. I hung the metal box spring on the wall as a sort of industrial art piece and put my mattress directly on the floor, I made “shelving” from metal milk crates, attaching cafeteria trays I swiped from “Veg” (the vegetarian cafeteria where I now ate) onto them as shelving doors; I bought a used 1960 something red columbia bicycle; i wore thermal leggings with shorts and sweaters with brooches and big rain coats and floppy hats; I smoked a lot of green pot with red hairs in it and went on a few mushroom and/or acid trips. I started listening to Fripp and Eno and the like.
In France, junior year, second semester was all about pushing Spring and making weekend trips to le Cote D’Azur instead of the weekly trips to Paris; putting on shorts and espedrilles way to early. Nobody wore shorts in those days in France. In fact, two years later, when I was living in Paris, I wore bermuda shorts from my apartment on the rue des Halles all the way through the rues pietons to le Beaubourg and people followed me and hung outside of cafes-bars to gawk at the site of some American male in plaid bermudas. Oh how I loved my collection of bermuda shorts, but back to the story at hand….
The year between the two living in France, our senior year in Boston, second semester meant way more than ever, building on the energy, I think, I had channeled that year in the Earth House. I wore either tux pants with suspenders over rotating muted green and orange turtlenecks; and over that I would wear those thick red-black plaid wool ankle-laced hunters? pants, also with suspenders, so that my bottom half was never cold. I would take them off in class. We ate pretty much nothing but red bean soup made in a wok or the usual stirfry. I grew my hair to look as much as possible like Sting’s in the Do They Know It’s Christmas? video, wearing hats for several hours before going out so to make my curly hair straight and wispy. Second semester was spare and intellectual. As it was, just like with sophomore year, I got straight A’s only now, in senior year, I was taking all graduate level courses. (My junior year abroad completely wrecked my grade-point average because I pretty much failed everything as I pretty much didn’t even speak French and pretty much had no reason being on this program in the first place. But senior year “second semester” was about becoming empty (spacey) , lean (manarexic), exquisite (precious) and supreme (smug). Endless tea with lemon. There is so much more to say about this but I’m not going to.
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.