Gemini 28° (June 17)
The last couple of days have felt painful, not sure why exactly. But everything just seems so very empty and not because that is something new, but because it is the way it is and these present times are simply exposing the reality of the situation. I am cooking up a storm, and staying on top of work for the most part, but I am so aware, more than ever, of the ways I have personally been a target of cancel culture, mainly because I won’t kiss ass, I kick it. People have always gotten away with murder because they have plenty of people who want things from them (and to whom they give it); people literally get away with it. I remember moving to Provincetown and S. telling me how R. would sleep with people, mainly really young guys, in the early nineties, having unprotected sex, knowing that he was positive and infecting people; and that on one occasion in particular this kid found out and went to him crying his eyes out asking why didn’t R. tell him and that sociopath showed no remorse and told the kid it was his responsibility. And this R. person is someone who is worshipped ubiquitously to this day by people who privately admit he is at least a sociopath if not a psychopath. But S. still plays in a band with him and kisses his ass because when it comes to self-servingness people’s principles go right out the window. I brought many people to Ptown and most have them have sunk to the lowest common denominator, meaning that took up with the band of sociopathic follows that R. leads. This is the depths of the experience I’ve had in this town for nearly two cycles of seven years. I am finished with all of that now. I have done my level best to keep the spirit of Ptown’s live stage heritage alive but nobody gives a crap about that. All they want is to cling to their cult leaders. R. is not the only one. He inhabits and lords over the lowest rung of that hell. But there are other figures too, two of which leap to mind, both of whom have the same initials. The cancel culturalists. The ones who think they call the shots and by whom so many other people are impressed. But when you get close to them (as if that were possible) you see they are insecure puffs of smoke, pointing the finger, depressed and mean. Men in their sixties who are fourteen year old mean girls. I’m not sure how we as a culture got to such a place where our liberal ideals mean nothing in the face of what’s really important: a multipage spread in Architectural Digest.
I will do the best I can today, as it is all I truly can do. But the fact remains I don’t want to be bitter. I’m not bitter. I’m disappointed by the fact that the so-called bastion of artistry and diversity has turned into one of the worst elitist enclaves on the planet. I want to simply disappear from this environment into the kind of memory where one day someone wakes to ask, where did he go? It will be a good question. I have to figure out a way to disable my social media presence too. Fine for the brand to have one but I really can no longer sustain this book of face, for instance. It is something that must be sacrificed in favor of my happiness. We are finally returning to a more anonymous existence and I want to make the most of the fact, I truly do. I am saddened by the kinds of characters I’ve had to contend with in this place for so long. I fully now lost my interest in this environment which has been ravaged by the disease of superficiality. Everyone sinks or rises to their right level and I am now on the ultimate rise. I have tried to be helpful, I have tried to contribute as best I can. What I won’t suffer are these greedy fools who need so much and give so little. I’d like to say we had a good run but I’m not even sure that much is true. I will make the best of what is on offer. I will plow through. I will come up with great ideas and I will make magic in the process, but first I have to let go and enjoy this exile and let it rid me, like Circe, of the painful treatments of the past. I am willing to dig deep, deep, deep to come up with something. I am no longer anybody’s fool, I can tell you that. Credit due is not always credit given. I’ve decided to begin the great unraveling and to figure out a way to give to the cause without having too stress to much in the process. I think others are being so cavalier at this juncture, posting pictures of their perfect rooms and water views while pretending to care about the sick and dying from disease and the victims of brutality; but even pictures people post of themselves protesting are meant to telegraph to us who they are, not really to help the cause. Look at me, I’m out in the street with a mask on for a few minutes using protesting people behind me as props. I know that sounds cynical but I also know the personalities of whom I am speaking. I have known them for decades and some people will do anything for attention and social media audience build. I don’t want this. I want to go higher. I want to live in a world of peace a stillness and power. I have far too long cared what the person sitting next to me thinks. It is now time for people to mind what I am thinking and feeling and saying. With power goes responsibility this I realize
The following blocks of text are exceprts from my first year of Blagues, nos. 426-430. 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. (For thirty days this paragraph will include this parentheses to say: I realized that in the summer of 2016 I actually didn’t post for some time, such that for the expanse of two months, I will continue to number the past Blagues, as above, five at a time, but there will be nothing to post from that period.)
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