Scorpio 12° (November 4)

Today was a hodgepodge. Feeling optimistic about the Democrats pulling off the presidency although I am doubtful about the Senate. Still I feel we have some time on that score. Getting the word out there as best I can and really hopeful that I can affect something positive in all of this. I’m again in a holding pattern with wood delivery (that isn’t a euphemism) and I’m once again losing patience with this character called Chopper. I know I’m not going to get very far in terms of writing anything today. I’m so preoccupied and so tired of all the gaslighting and such. I was corresponding with a friend by email over someone from our childhood: In seventh grade, I was my friendliest with Mark B., and so Jay was originally in our orbit a bit too. We all smoked cigarettes but we weren’t 16, we were 12. I was sort of Nancy M’s boyfriend ish for a while. And so we were all “bad” smoking Marlboros outside 7-11. Needless to say, I wasn’t long for that scene and focused on being the drama nerd that I truly was. Mark and I were bedmates for a field trip to Philadelphia and, maybe, Gettysburg? Our roommates in the next bed who shall remain nameless (yeah right: Steve McThomas and Tim? Van Vleet?) were a little too giggly in the neighboring bed. Speaking of which (and segue back to Roger and Pete): weren’t they caught doing similarly on (same?) field trip? Or is that suburban legend. I remember that party at Pete’s, the very last days of school, in the back yard. He had a friend with him from Deerfield called Andrew H. who turned out to be in my dorm at B.U., He and I also tripped together, the second week of school. He was raised on Park Avenue, dated a Vogue model, was on the crew team and was so ridiculously perfect looking I felt like we were different species.  Remember tripping? Awwww. 

The following blocks of text are exceprts from my first year of  Blagues, nos. 1086-1090. 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.

I binge watched Lost in Space, mainly to see our friend Parker Posey play Dr. Smith. It wasn’t great—in fact it bordered somewhat on Land of the Lost with a lot of running around and revisiting caves. But I haven’t binge-watched anything in about a year and the total zombieness of it all really felt great to give into I must say. I’m sorry world, but if you’re going to extend winter another month, and give me nothing but gray and rainy days, then I get to watch that much more television.

I am super excited about seeing the Harry Potter play opening on Broadway on Sunday. Fate has allowed us this as a perk for having a great thirty-two-year old friendship with so creative a talent and her kind and generous consort. Although events like this always make me wish I was thinner. But I yam what I yam. And the rest of the world will just have to get over it.

Speaking of television (as I was a few couple paragraphs ago), I’m really enjoying the Howards End on Starz. It’s fun to have a slower, more fleshed out version of what is surely one of my favorite stories (and films); there has never been so tragic a character as Leonard Bast, as I’ve probably said already in a recent Blague.

I just visited and noticed she and S have the same paperweight which is designed, looks like, by someone who also used to be quite a close friend but who “turned” on us a couple of years back. I wish I could say I am over the hurt of that incident but the truth is I’m not. S is so much better and moving on than I am. But I am terribly sensitive when it comes to these sorts of things. One doesn’t expect sort of fourteen-year-old behavior from a fifty-five-year-old man; however, this man actually stated time and time again how he was a fourteen year old girl trapped in an adult male body. Now you’re thinking: So why do you care that you’re no longer friends. Good question.

I have never once in my life thought that I’d like to be famous, despite the fact that so many people I know are. I loved being an actor, which truly was a craft. I never thought I would make bank on it (which might be part of the problem). Anyway I didn’t have that kind of life. I had to work and scrimpt to get by. Also I never had the requisite confidence in the business of it all that I had on the actual stage. Who knows. It might all come back to me at some point. It would be nice to enjoy some kind of success at ths point as an actor and I do feel that I deserve that certain slice of happiness. Would be a challenge to go for that type of thing now but not impossible. Only for me it will need to fit a larger lifestyle.

People seem really torn about Lost in Space. They seem to either love it or hate it. Either way strong opinions are a desired effect and I hope the show runs a long time and makes Parker a lot of money.


A show that answers the question how did you meet and come to do what you do.

Really it is about being within the construct of Time while coming to understand that all is one big “simultaneaity” happening in a cosmic instant which is exactly why it is that Quinn gets increasingly psychic and Stella, likewise, to borrow from the Baroness, “can see the future” in her own way. The trick is to just start picking stories from our individual and shared lives and plug them into a timeline until we find a string of stories that work as a show.

Starsky + Cox enter in darkness and station themselves stage right and left. A projection screen reads 1963, a warping, waved effect moves across it moving the image like a wind blows a flag or water ripples over a sign buried beneath it. A purposely blatant, if not bad, but kind of cool interpretive dance or pantomime begins, Starsky + Cox each go through their own pantomime of life experiences and pasage as the numbers tick forward stopping first on (possibly) 1973 (though it could be anywhere). A collage of sounds and music concide with each of their illustrative movements.

Some movements include being born, crying eating, making faces and noises, learning to walk, running away laughing, sitting on the toilet, taking baths, putting on school or Sunday clothes, learning at desks, kneeling at church, eating cookies, playing sports, learning dance, playing with dolls, doing cootie-catchers, being beaten up all things leading to age 10 if 1973 is the first number.

There can be dual monologues at this point or not. The interpretive pantomime can then become less innocent with sexual trespasses, more attempted sports or activities, trying drugs or alcohol, being teenaged stuff at the point the numbers reach 1981 Starsky + Cox can cross to each other, accept imaginary diplomas from one another, then walk off switching their tassle. More college type pantomime, more drugs, experience, learning, make up, music, dance The end point of this sequence will be 1983 when both sit down and we hear airplane sounds or the cabin crew doing a bit. The point is we are now on the plane to Paris both in window seats separated by a wide body.

The dialogue would begin by saying this is how we offically met but actually we were in this exact configuration before when the previous spring we went to see the English Beat, with REM opening, at Boston University, in a group organized by a mutual friend, though we were on opposites sides of the row in the auditorium and din’t actually meet. The character of the mutual friend plays a “role” in that ultimately he becomes a top plastic surgeon (whose job it is to remove wrinkles) he may make an “appearance” only in so far as he will be in Rome in Spring of 1984 when we meet the man who speaks in tongues.

Other stories would include the Harmonic Convergence, doing a Tony Randall impersonation that seemed to conjure him into being, maybe Graham Nash, taking liberties with truth and sequence, giving ourselves poetic license.


I have an entire basement and office and “attic” to go through to rid myself of three decades of accumulation. I had planned to do this over the winter; and if you were to ask me why that didn’t happen I would be at a loss to tell you why. But I can’t avoid it any longer and will prioritize making this happen for myself. The trick is I keep waiting to do this as some kind of team and I fear that is never going to happen so I must now move on to singular thoughts and actions.

Too many things feel like the law of diminishing returns. And it is high time to take the bull by the horns and try to make some important things happen. I do not have the luxury to sit around and wait for some kind of permission; nor do I want to be in any kind of competition. I think it’s great that someone like D.D. is satisfied running what amounts to community theater. I would likely slit my writsts. I see these people who have spent thirty some odd years in recovery and they seem not to have learned anything but self-servingness. They seem the least woke people of all. Strange that.

Yeah I don’t think twelve step programs are really a recipe for recovery in the end. It just seems like institutionalized dry-drunkeness or whatever one is recovering from. Case in point we are meeting someone this week who approached us about doing a business project; only now it seems he’s turned the tables and acting as if he’s doing us some kind of favor. It’s all a bit too topsy turvy for my taste. But I am the Bob Newhart, the Oliver Douglas (do you know who that is?) the Larry David. These characters make for some good comedy in art but, in life it’s not that funny.

One has to take their cues from the universe, in that I am a firm believer. As such, I can only go higher and higher. And I shall continue to do so in a conscious motivated upward spiraling. It’s way too easy at this time of life to get discouraged and groan about wht didn’t happen. For no lack of trying, the list of failed attempts is far longer than that of sure hits in my experience. But that’s what it is: my experience. It is no better or worse than anyone elses. If you have certain success, especially in the arts (as they devolve into entertainments) you can continue to create (and delude yourself you’re making art) because people will buy into any crap you put out there. But that is, in and of itself, a dismal affair.

It’s better known as drinking the Kook Aid and sometimes the flavor thereof is champagne cocktails. I have never needed anything I don’t have. But I have failed to want very fully that which I do possess. To take stock, to appreciate to the utmost, is a recipe for one’s own value rising. This is what I tell me clients. Clients. I look forward to having many more clients in the coming year. In fact I will very much be making this my focus. I have pretty much decided to let much of everything else go and to become this tunnel visioned entity in regard to our craft and business. On the agenda today is to get a final draft note ready for sending to lecture and speakers offices and the like. I will review my notes with S on all of this Thursday morning. Today is only Tuesday after all.


Barbara Bush was what she said of Geraldine Ferraro: “It rhymes with rich.” I know it’s de rigeur revisionism to cast the recently departed as some kind of saint. But the truth is she was in so many ways a monstrous woman and I don’t feel compelled to act or think otherwise. I am surprised her husband outlived her. Long lives, both; maybe it’s the hate that kept them alive. I think it would be naive to think he hasn’t murdered and that she didn’t know about it. Even if those you kill are faceless and nameless you still dial M.

Had a lovely meeting with our friend Tim with whom we might do a little business deal. Things to Google: Water based dichargers for printing fabric. For example there is a place called Forward printing. I would be very interested in knowing the pricing of the equipment thereof. There are so many interesting artists and graphic businesses and resaturants and so forth that might avail themselves of my printing skills. It all bolsters an argument for diversifying and sort of going into business for oneself, having a side hustle. So being both the production and the distrubition and the sales? Would be fun to price out. Just for kicks.

The truth is I am looking for a little diversity at this juncture. A side-hustle with a little substance. A way to generate some extra abundance while having fun doing it. While the larger ships come in. But I think that’s just a normal fantasy people have. Like I’ve always wanted to own a café. Will I ever actually own one? Perhaps. But it isn’t now. And I do have quite a substantial side-hustle in the festival I produce. The only thing with that is I don’t make any money, which, of course, was never the goal.

The key thing for me to do is to jettison, and yes it would be a sacrifice, things that have taken up a lot of time which no longer serve me. Moving through, today, will entail sending out another set of fundraising pleas, setting up (if not writing) two more Blagues before traveling to Boston and New York; having a draft of the letter to send to speaker’s bureaus, outlining the next six months in terms of what is happening when, speeding through making some notes for next year’s books’ intros, getting a draft of a contract together for artists; and create a graphic email-able card for our summer consultancy.

I have decided to remain very much in my bubble. I can’t do anything more at this juncture. I’m full up on the news of the day and I need to stick my head in the sand for an ironic breather. I will reemerge, hopefully, stronger than before. I am more upset about the woman who died on the Southwest flight than I am about the state of the world today. The whole big picture seems totally rigged to me; and it is forcing me into a more selfish mindset and modus. Not to say I am some kind of selfless being normally; but so much of waht I do is about furthering the efforts and evolution of others, whether with our private practice or in my charitable work promoting and presenting artists.

We are coming up on some serious me time.


Left Aries this morning, the Sun did. And now it appeareth in Taurus or, should I say, Taureth. I keep my distance, almost naturally, from Aries while Taurus draws me in with a lot of temptations that can end semi-tragically.

I think I have been semi-retired since taking my first job at fourteen. I realized this when, this morning I said I’d like to semi-retire at fifty-seven.

The Leo woman thing can fall along a dichotomy between ultimate loyalty and falling out of favor. To be examined. Along with all the other gender signs over the next ten days as I put the pieces together on next year’s weekly astrologies.

Having said all I said yesterday, I think I’m going to make my side hustle acting. It’s something I can surely do beginning sort of now ish. I would like to restart that and tennis and skiing this year and I think that will give me a sense of accomplishment. Daily, it will be the piano and singing as per usual. It’s very important to have small ambitions, something I attribute the energy of Cancer and the fourth house, frankly.

I have a lot to say and I have a lot to offer, but still I feel that disconnect between this who I am and how others see me; I’m looking to examine how to bridge that gap. I also feel, as we all tend to do, a gulf between the way I live and the way I imagine my life to be. That is also a divide to cross. Or drop trying.

Today is the first Spring embarkation and I’m fairly psyched. We will set off the the ICA first and then to family dinner up nahth. I’m determined to hop in the car early in the a.m. tomorrow for New York where I’m hoping we won’t tempt fate and magic. It can be enchanting for about forty-eight hours and then the tide tends to turn.

Going through song catalogue. Archiving shows and so forth. Our tandem show can get into the metaphorical ways of living and how they are more true than true. I will make a contract and send it to the artists. I will start to go through my own Blague work. I want and need to hit all my marks. In Taurus we should take stock of our talents and assets.

I tweeted: We’re in Taurus, witches.Time to connect to your inner nymphs and flower gods; and to stop, drop and roll around in the proverbial roses like Ferdinand who is so fabulously light in his hooves. Love yourself—just not to the exclusion of others.

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.