Virgo 10° (September 1)


Sunday. Rabbit, rabbit and I awoke at 3:33 so something is coming full circle. I am on a roll today writing. I will go and get some wine in Eastham and the traffic will be terrible. La S. is going to make a delicious farfalle with eggplant and goat cheese and we are going to sit in the living room and I will read her what I have. I’m feeling more delicious than I have in a while. I don’t care who likes me. I do like the idea of a little lift each morning. But it is different to learn people are on drugs. I don’t think we should be made to feel everything is fine when it isn’t. We need to be disgruntled. It’s what we’re supposed to do and feel. Anyway, I need to push my narrative along today if I’m going to hit my marks which I can easily do if I just should my mind up. It is actually September fifth at four thirty two in the afternoon and I am feeling the stresses of what I’ve bitten off. Anyay I’m dealing (well) with a number of things going on (I think). If I could only say what I really want to say. Writing is a trigger for so many things for me. But writing this show now is causing this strange loop of triggering. I can’t explain exactly what I mean but it just seems I’m caught in a moment. I know that certain desires conflict with certain goals, but maybe that’s just an old story I tell myself. All I know is that I’ve been me for a long time now.

So cutting and pasting. I’m talking about how IN WRITING this I got stuck in this groove and the obvious answer is because this was that summer where sexual shit went down but it is more than that. There’s the witchcraft and the incantations and there all of that. And I look at my school photos now sixth seventh grade and it is like day and night. But that’s the story and it’s a good story so a plot twist isn’t necessarily a bad thing. And here we go with perhaps another device, I’m not sure but, I would call this bit the encapsulation because I can pretty much sum up the entering into seventh grade, well into college in a paragraph: Entering junior high you are suddenly grouped together with students from, in my case four other schools, and hormones are flying everywhere, and suddenly the landscape is about heteronormative power couples walking the halls with their hands in each others back pockets—look out for the comb!—remember when combs in your back pocket were such a thing that they actually wore a hole in the corner of the pocket? Well that person in the powder blue shirt was the lowest of the lowest on the totem pole. And I found that I had so-called friends from grammar school who were so insecure and so jockeying for social position that they targeted me as an object of ridicule in an attempt to make themselves popular with this new uneasy mash-up of hormonal young egos being thrown together into what amounted to a junior-high snakepit. Midge. Whom I’m friends with now because I’m amazing but she threw me specifically under the bus. She got chummy with Adele Mimnaugh (the greatest mane ever but for Yvette Mimieux) and, also, to this day, I’m friends with. I’m very forgiving. And anyway, Adele wasn’t really buying it. She and (the then love of my life) Laurie Best, who was “so-outta-m’league—and this other kid, Mark Bennet, who is also dead, I think?, and who was also troubled, and would not have not intersected with my crazy cousins the next town over, we, in 7th grade, became a foursome on a fieldtrip to Philadelphia and Gettysburgh. Yeah, that’s the sort of perk public school once afforded in the quiet dutch settlement of Wyckoff.  This was not the fieldtrip where those alpha male boys were discovered … red handed??? probably more than that—and outed pretty violently—NO this was a romp through Philadelphia and Amish Country, eating shoo-fly pie, but nonetheless: Mark Bennet and I who shared one double bed fell asleep to the sound of giggling coming from the other boys, Steve and Tim, obviously in the throes of some sexual interlude. Why did we only just laugh at that ourselves? Because something in our basic natures said, yeah, well, this is normal. Mark and I weren’t feeling it and my gut is he was on the very straight end of the spectrum for sure; and I knew who my friend and my bedmate was and it never entered my mind ape our neighbors. Good grief no. I feel my straightness sometimes so accutely and it actually manifests as revulsion. I understand how certain straight people feel revulsion at the thought of being with someone of the same sex. I’m also 100% convinced they just haven’t met the best best friend for them.

As I said I stuck to myself. The above shit is not going in the show but it is recorded here.


To view the original Sabian Symbol themed 2015 Cosmic Blague corresponding to this day: Flashback! The degree pointof the Sabian Symbol will be one degree higher than the one listed for today. 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 or 6 days per year—so they near but not exactly correlate.


Typos happen. I don’t have a proofreader. And I like to just write, post and go!
Copyright 2019 Wheel Atelier Inc. All Rights Reserved.
Get your HAUTE ASTROLOGY 2019 Weekly Horoscope ebooks by Starsky + Cox