Aquarius 23° (February 12)


We see overnight that our event is postponed as there is meant to be a storm. I feel a yearning inside me to write fiction. Scoring some press in the Globe for Desiree is great. I have to write an elevator pitch for a new book. Wearing so many different hats, I always have interesting, but disparate things to do. But it’s like I tell a Libra: Everything eventually begins to work in concert. I don’t know what to tell the Scorpios, except that they should specialize. Funny that P.S. will end up doing something similar to J.D. I’ve been writing intros to next year’s books; but with travel I really think I will need a break. It never works to drag things with like that. Anyway, I will need to travel some hotel reservations and be in touch with my lawyer and read over some legal documents that have been sent and to catch up fully on book keeping and otherwise putting things to rights or into motion. I have sent things along to our graphic genie; I need to remove J.P. from one board and B.C. from another. I need to add a new board member, in fact. And I’m happy to let that take a good long while. It will be smart to pull out the outline of how cash is all meant to flow and to get up to speed on some budget projections. Anway that’s what I’ll focus on since I can’t get to Boston today due to the weather.


I’ve decided to go with some muted mid-century Pollock as my Afterglow Festival logo insiration this year. And it’s taking a little doing to get would-be collaborators to not put carts before horses. Though I’m not sure they ever learn. And we do have to stay open and not put all our eggs in one basket. It is relaxing to think of what can be achieved now and in short order. There is a pile of work to plow through but so long as we do it in bite sized nuggets, all will be right with the world. It is imperative to get a hold on any excesses, whether in the form of finances or other such earthly delights. I do feel already more streamlined and proud of myself given the breadth and proliferation of my accomplishments. I need to raise my game, now, even more; and by April to be out and about gathering interest (and money). There should be something relieving about what we’re doing here. I do have every day planner I’ve ever owned. And I do feel these sentences are adding up to something, if not building up to. Perhaps it makes sense to push even a little bit more. Anyway, what needs doing is really the same things that always need doing. Right now it’s more a matter of maintenance than anything else.


Back in the earliest time we lived in the West Village and I met that lovely fellow Marcus who was from Michigan or something. This was way before the internet. I think I might already have been working at the Bell Caffe. Wow what a time that was. My day consisted of going to the piers to lay out in the sun and happening by Mrs. Hudson’s video. I remember that feeling of a Spring chill off the water hitting a slight sunburn and reading The Sheltering Sky. I only worked a few days a week really at that time. Or perhaps I hadn’t even started at the Bell. Anyway, I was writing a lot, poetry mainly. And then all my many books I had gathered to anotate one sweltering day, all day, at Florent, were later that day stolen from the trunk of our car we parked near the Angelika Film Center. Everything was gone. I don’t think I’ve written poetry since then to be honest. Sometimes I’d like to create a timeline of thoughts and images and snippets of self in some virtual scrapbook. Though one is never sure if that would bear any fruit, it certainlly does sound reassuringly reorganizing. I don’t know why today doesn’t feel so terribly stressful; and then again I do now remember. I might have taken half a something. I’ve forgotten just how relaxing that can be. Though surely nothing I could get used to.


Today is my maternal grandmother’s birthday. I want to say she will have been 113 or something like that it is absolutely extraordinary to think of, isn’t it? She was a very kind person but not someone who left a very deep mark, excepting we her grandchildren, and maybe her own children whom I feel largely dismissed her. She only had a sixth-grade education so that was a thing. My horrible father used to make shanty Irish jokes at her. She would respond by saying: shit in your hat. She used the word dear to mean expensive. It’s akin go the French, a celtic connection maybe. This reminds me of my own “French family” the Gastaldos with whom I lived for eight or so months over the fall to spring, 1983 and 1984. I do fall back nostalgically into the arms of those years. I saw the family in 2015 I believe it was, in the fall, and soon after the head of the family who was likely not even ten years older than me died in a hole in his own backyard.


To view the original Sabian Symbol themed 2015 Blague corresponding to this day: Flashback! The degree of the Sabian Symbol may be higher than the one listed here  as the symbols cluminate in the next degree. There are 360  degrees spread over 365 days. 

Typos happen—I don’t have time or an intern to edit.*
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