Pisces 15° (March 5)

I’m going to call what we got yesterday some very good news. I am transitioning today but speeding the plow nonetheless. I slept through the night for the first time in over a week. The mandate no matter what now is six pages per day, beginning as early as possible, living on farmer’s hours once again. They have finished reading the covid relief bill. I hate Republicans. I suppose I feel a bit more protected now and looking down a cleared path and I’ve started to articulate our part in what will be mediation. And I feel happy and optimistic about this book which has felt like pulling teeth but truly isn’t actually. The hard work that I have done, all the stressing about it, even, is why I am here now; and that is actually really fine. I know I am approaching a time of increasing facility with zero fucks to give. Plus I really wish to be in the best shape of my life. Going to start counting my friends one by one. I don’t need a big house is also part of the good news. I know I won’t be buying low per se but that too is a-ok. It’s going to warmer and lighter longer. Everything I’ve done, preparing for lawyers and inevitable moves, is going to add up to ease now. I did all the heavy lifting and now I can leave it behind. Soon it will smell like Spring. Night time can be about packing and moving. If we find a place nearby I can do all the little stuff myself and keep our car. I am going to do a spell (with a special kit we have) to bring this house to me. For some reason I see a small shack in Truro this time, which could be really nice. Easy to get to stores and even more valuable in the end. I really do want to stay put.

The following blocks of text are exceprts from my first year of  Blagues, nos. 1686-1690. 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.

Where to begin. I feel like starting it all up to be honest. I want to start me up. I’m going to follow through shooting the moon. I’m sick of cancel culture and I will continue the story I started yesterday. And I will gently urge…that’s where I ended writing on this day now four days ago. This is what always happens—I get derailed. So it is now the 22nd. Last night was meant to be our solstice show at Joe’s Pub, but I barely even remembered it was solstice let alone did I commemorate it. When people treat me badly I pile on and treat myself like crap. This is what always happens. I further blow up my existence and then I have to spend time picking up the pieces. It isn’t enough that I have a full plate and that I’m leaving the country for months and am enduring the usual stresses that entails. No I have got to make it worse. And there are always the usual and unusual delays. Like this week was a horror of getting my new phone and computer sorted. I am now typing on a new mac and the keyboard is so loud. I hate loud keyboards. If you know me you know it is just one of my pet peaves. I have so many of those. More than most people. I feel broke on so many levels. I suppose I shall get back to the story at hand although I must say I have lost much interest on that score. Anyway I need to recall what was happening on this actual day. I think this would be Wednesday. I know that over the last couple of days I did send out a number of books.

In the wake of the publishing of Sextrology, Elaine Markson quietly and unofficially retired and we were often on the front lines with the various departments at Harper. There were a numbe of foreign deals made, not without some foibles on that score, but nothing we remember. We just know to explore this since Liz Sullavan intimated in our meeting at the Marlton that something was amiss with the rights department.I don’t know if I can do this actually.I think I won’t. What I will do is cut and paste somethings.

I sent this to Meg: When Sextrology came out Stephen H was the publisher at HarperCollins under which our imprint, Harper Resource,fell—he was Megan N’s boss and was replaced by Joe Tessitore who I think recently passed away.Fast forward to 2013, Steve writes to say he is setting up his own agency and would like for us to be his clients. He says he thinks we should do a “Birthday Book” concept. We say that we have a project in mind, we call BBOD, which remains on our to-do list of books to write (as we’ve mentioned to you). He says he wants to set up a meeting at Abrams just a meet and greet, not a pitch scenario. We say fine. We go to Abrams, we like each other, then Steve pitches his idea for a book, not our idea. (He also showed up an hour late, wearing shorts, and, afterward, was a bit too “celebratory” at lunch for our liking).  The Abrams folks we met were Holly D. and her colleague at the time David somebody. (Note from her to Steve post-meeting is below). We decide not to sign Steve on as our agent—we were not interested in writing his idea of a book—and so we completely drop out of publishing at this point to focus on our private consultancy and self-started projects. We don’t know what exactly Steve would have said to Holly. All this to say: Do you know if Holly is still at Abrams? Is she someone we could add to next pitch list of folks?

Then this: Cool. We have our thinking caps on.

Honestly, though we always rise above and make the lemonade; We have been quite upset by the Harper thing. I’ve spent the last couple of days doing some narrative therapy which has helped a lot. Still, what keeps coming up is how much crap we put up with and forgave HC (some hair-raising things that would strike you as painfully comical if not completely unbelievable) like the pretend book tour Kate Stark fabricated before leaving Harper just as our book was coming out (I kid you not) with fake flights booked and appearances at Book Soup and Booksmith in SF. HC ended up writing us a check to design our own book store which ultimately included those two places.

And this is just one of the trauma episodes coming up. Yet, we forgave them all their trespasses and still now don’t know what it is they still have in their bonnet about us. Because Harper didn’t buy Sexxtrology to begin with, and we ended up on their doorstep, they were one big Miss Minchin to us the entire time. None of the people we know of (who were  there at the time) are even still there. Despite the crap we went through we remain friendly with folks we first worked with; and have tried to forge trusting and collaborative relationships to those who’ve inherited us, pinballing from one imprint to another over the years. At some point I think we will need to know exactly what bee they have in their bonnet; we feel whatever is being said by whomever is messing with our livelihood and that is truly upsetting. But for now we are doing our best transcendence act

And this I sent to Mary Ellen C.:  I hope this finds you well! You’re probably like What The…?

I am working on funny stories about our experience in the publishing world and I am trying to piece together a timeline in so doing

When Sextrology was about to be published I think both Megan N. and Kate S. left HC and you came aboard, is that right?

I think also that Joe T., whom I hear is no longer with us?, replaced Steve H. at the same time? Steve actually wanted to agent us a few years back and I recall that he was a bit bitter about all that. Anyway, I’m off the point…..

This is my recollection and I wonder if you have the same one: There was this whole west coast book tour set up for Starsky + Cox (by Kate before she left) including TV appearances and radio and airline tickets and book store events at Book Soup and Booksmith in SF. We received an entire itinerary I remember and we tried to follow up about the plane tix and such only to discover that the entire tour had been fabricated. No tickets purchased. No TV appearances. And the bookstore owners had no idea what we were talking about when we called about our in-store events. Do I have all this right?

I do remember you and Joe decided to write Stella and me a check so that we could re-create the tour ourself and then some. We used the money very sparingly I know and did appear on KTLA in Los Angeles and at Book Soup (where friends of Tori Amos came and gave her a copy of our book which inspired her to write “Goodbye Pisces,” crediting us in her own book about song writing called Piece by Piece!!) and also at Booksmith in San Francisco where the Chronicle did a wonderful piece on us that really got the press rolling.

In my mind the check you gave us was for $3K. Anyway the funny bit about SF was that we stayed at this cheaper hotel owned by the Triton hotel and they piped music into our room. We had done the Booksmith event and they made Starsky + Cox “trading cards” as they do for authors. I said (never being a baseball fan) that the only cards I ever collected were Partridge Family cards. The morning after as we packed to head for the airport they piped “I Think I Love You” into our room. I got to the airport and used the mensroom and in there was Brian Forster who played the part of Chris Partridge on the show. I said “I used to collect your cards when I was a kids, so here you go, take one of ours!” Isn’t that so weird and synchronistic. Then again stuff like that happens to us all the time.

Anyway, I hope this jogs your memory and anything you can add to this story would be much appreciated. Everything happens for a reason and on some level I suppose I’m grateful to Kate Stark for faking our book tour before quitting Harper!

Yesterday I went to Yarmouth to the dermatologist and made the mistake of passing through some old haunts. Thre is a new online newspaper called the Independent to which people are contributing. I will only do so if there was money in it. It didn’t help my mood to take this trip today. I have a bunch of errands to do as well and that’s fine. I fell off my yoga wheel and will try to get back on during the course of the next couple of days. I’m giving myself ninethy minutes to write the next three days of posts because, if you’ve been paying attention, we are late to the party. Okay so here I go, kicking into a sort of hyper mode, which is the only way to go. I drove past the West Dennis beach I drove up Old County Road. And then made the mistake of going up Gorham, ours is the only house on the street that exists solely in memory. I want to get and stay ahead of all the curves. I want the pain I feel to fuel something. I am frightened of this trip ad of myself. I am tired of the withholding way that so-called friends (who never really were) are wont to treat me. I am going to get into this feeling today and I am going to accelerate it into a burning feeling of fiercity. I’m tired of the self-promoters and all their bullshit. I need time off to fucking get my brain around everything that is now happening and I don’t see why I shouldn’t. I am going to try and book some low-key characters. I have to shed five pounds in the next ten days. That is something that must occur. It should be easier. If I can just stop chowing like a pig and drinking like a fish. That messed up Shari E. who stood us up all those years ago—figures, as she’s a friend of that soulless Jack P.—well turns out that she is a major Qanon Trumpster. Big surprise there. We took down all her art and will likely burn it. I’ve lost so many things I’ve loved it’s not hard for me to lose shit I don’t care about Merry Fucking Christmas. Oh, man: I have no holiday spirit to speak of. Negative holiday spirit. I’m so mad at the world this week. But it’s no use pretening I’m note. I have to go through this as part of my process. Not meant to be speaking to the usual middle wo/men until after the holidays. Once I get the full skinny I’m going to go for the jugular. I know the universe can do the work for me. That will be my m.o.. There is not only no reason for revenge; it actually does the opposite of the desired effect.

And so I try and try to turn the corner on this particular issue that is burning at my core. I spent so much of the year writing a book and trying to get it published. The first round people didn’t bite as expected. Would that we didn’t’ go from “I’ve got so many editors chomping at the bit” to waah, waah. So that will be the first thing to figure out: How can that be. That will be the first thing we tackle. The second thing will tackle is this bad wrap bulsshit by HarperCollins. I will pick up the thread and write about the fact that we wrote for the worst person ever Joe Dolce (well actually his boss Bonnie Fuller was the worst person ever). I hope they are Googling themselves and see this. There have never been more unspiritual, soulless people than these two. At least I’m lucky enough to say that. So wow, yes, this is a purge. I am getting out all my vitriol. Underneath it is me, HI!, Quinn the Kind. I promise I haven’t gone to the dark side. I just need to release this shadow. I need to get to my truth. I will happily write a tell all. There is so much to say and do and so and say and say say say. Sherherazade. I don’t mind the free association. We had a mini vocal band back in the day called The Free Associates. It was a fun offshoot of the other more elaborate jam bands I was in. With my so-called best man. Ha! That’s a joike. I have always attracted the same one zodiacal sign as my best friend for as long as I can remember. And they always betrayed me. Always turned on me. They were always insular and selfish. I think I bring out the worst in this particular sign. Have I said enough already. I’d like to think I have. I have so much more to get to and I don’t know that I ever will.

You say you want a resolution? Well, you know, that is a very Capricorn thing to do. We are posting a lot about this sort of thing on social media. Sometimes the post hit FB but mainly you need to follow StarskyandCox on Instagram for the full effect. We are trying to be better at social media. Apparently having followers (which so many people just buy anyway) is more important than having actual readers of ones work, and by that I mean books. Just when you thought traditional publishing couldn’t be even more twisted, venal and celebrity worshiping. But let’s not talk about that. Let’s talk about cancel culture instead. It is so much more fun. This past year I had an artist cancel a show very last minute leaving my non-profit holding the financial bag. Do you think this artist cared? No they didn’t. But it doesn’t stop there. The artist then turns around and bad mouths the very non-profit that spent a ton of money to support them and with witch the broke a contract without batting an eye, let alone exhibiting a conscience. It’s more than galling. Another performer last year cancelled out on a series we put on which meaned having to refund tickets like crazy. Again no remorse. Anyway this is going nowhere.

A Resolution is a very Capricorn Thing. Shalt-nots being Saturned-ruled restrictions.Don’t bet me started on Moses—ten commandments, tenth sign of the Zodiac—whom God told to build a tabernacle out of Goat Hair. I’m off subject…My Resolution this year is to be an Agent of Accountability in the Age of Cancel Culture. If you bad-mouth, ef-over, gaslight, virtue signal (not to mention break a promise, let alone a contract with me) or otherwise sow any seeds of false narrative (bear false witness) against me, my work or organizations, or anybody I even remotely like, I’m going to call your shit out. I don’t care if you’re a community high priestess or the maharincess of liberal politcical correctness. One of my myriad Libran selves is a bad ass born on the streets of Jersey City; and starting in 2020 I’m bringing guido back, pulling no punches and taking no prisoners when it comes to the very basics of living life by the Golden Rule. I have no more blind eyes or cheeks to turn and there may even be some retroaction on that score. So if you think you maybe got something by or over some proverbial mister niceguy, don’t let 2019 hit you on the ass on the way out.

I’m almost done with this spewing I promise you. I have just a little further to go with all of this and then I hope it will be out of my body. It is more sickening for me than it is for you can promise you that. I’m so not putting up with any crap this coming year. I am so not letting others get away with murder. I am so not letting the ghostlighting and the cancel culture take me down. It is all a mass hallucination on so many levels in any case and I am determined to keep this situation as real as I possibly can. I promise that when I get into the post that corresponds with two days hence I will begin to say positive things. I’m also aware of the fact that I started thoughts that I haven’t finished; but that too is part of the process here. This new laptop has the loudest keyboard I said that but I can’t believe how loud this shit gets. Anyway I want this Blague to be like a big pre-colonoscopy treatment where I get all the shit out of my system. I have had to deal with so much negative crap over the last couple of days and I have not risen above it. I haven’t lashed out but worse: I took it all in. That was my bad for real. And I haven’t fulfilled a number of promises I made to myself.  Anyway, I have once again written enough. Tomorrow’s post may be that much more vehement. But you can handle it, whoever you are.

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.