Aries 19° (April 8)
Though I did have a rough night, especially due to this weird itching and red bumps (which I think is irritation caused by the laundry detergent Emily used in London), I am that much more optimistic, maybe, than I was yesterday. Today is our anniversary which helps and I will be eating linguine with clam sauce—oops gotta take clams out of the freezer—did that plus cleaned the entire kitchen plus sent our notes to the TV folks for the pitch. I’m not actually going to do much in the way of writing, newly, here today as today’s reading of five posts from the past yielded enough personal stuff to paste in (below). We are going to send old cell phones to my friend Heather Randall, Tony’s widow and mother of his two children, whom I’ve never met (well actually I met one as a baby) but whose trajectory I’ve followed. The idea is to hopefully clear up three more days, Thursday through Saturday, to focus on and finish the branding project. If anything extraordinary happens today I’ll pop back and insert it. Otherwise I’m going to put my head down and power through as much as humanly possible. Tonight is a last hoorah of sorts and tomorrow begins a more ascetic period.
The following blocks of texs are exceprts from my first year of Blagues, nos. 96-100. I am reading through all my Blagues, five per day, and posting some samples here. Now, in my sixth year of writing this Blague, but the time I get to my seventh, I will have through all the daily Blagues of my first five years. If that’s confusing I apologize:
I am thus dedicated to bringing up the baby who resides inside of me. A new wave of life is cresting within and I know that I shall give new life to others by giving to myself. Yesterday was such a miraculous day with the Supreme Court deciding in favor of marriage equality—a miracle because of those who dedicated their lives and perhaps didn’t live to see this happening. But it starts with the personal and then moves to the universal. What is worth giving life to, of benefit to the many, starts with doing right by oneself. We joke about how the LGBTQ community might still continue to add letters to that marquee, whilst the B will still remain silent. I’ve been a fairly loud voice for the B over the years or have tried to be, though there isn’t as much support out there from either the gay or straight communities. In terms of gender equality, we more readily understand fluidity and that we can’t strictly always strictly label people, male or female; likewise, in regard to sexuality, not all of us fall into strictly gay or straight camps. And gender does come into play here too because, we as a society don’t seem to much care if a woman is bisexual, in fact it seems to add to her mystique; yet bisexual men have always gotten a terrible rap when in fact the world is probably, ironically, overpopluted with them…us.
I believe, and say so in our writing and to the press, that transgenderism is part and parcel of our present evolution and I believe it’s the same with bi or pansexuality. The notion that people can’t be attracted to both sexes has always seemed ridiculous to me. Of course it’s my experience so it would. It’s a sad paradox that the most ardent proponents of gay rights often seem to be the biggest detractors of bisexuality. In a movement toward living label free, why are folks so hung up on this? Because it’s not their experience? Well, being gay wasn’t straight society’s experience these past centuries which added up to persecution of gay people. If you’re gay and “don’t believe in bisexuality” then you’re just as much an oppressor as any straight who found your gayness to be a lie or a disease. You should mount a campaign, then, to have the B removed from the marquee. So long as you don’t, however, you must commit to acknowledging the existence of B people. But bisexuals and pansexuals are partly to blame for where they find themselves. Because they are attracted to both sexes it has been less a struggle for them to polarize in a straight direction and to, in a sense, “pass”. It wasn’t wholly displeasurable nor did it seem utter self-denial to do so, but of course it is. So long as bisexuals and pansexuals are casual about their existence, one can’t fully expect the world to take them seriously. Living in the gray area of the spectrum, in half-light, is a half-life.
The womb-tomb is where evolution happens. If we are evolving as a species then evolution happens on the whole with each subsequent birth of a generation. I think the Pisces fish, synonomous with the Jesus fish, points to the notion of a “new wo/man”, an enlightened and evolved being, a superhuman powered by love and transcendence and compassion as we see embodied in a Christ figure. I also think Jesus was a bisexual hippy who loved Mary Magdalene and “the beloved disciple” John the Evangelist. It was a total whatever situation and I think we can’t divorce the fluidity (opposite facing fish, floating in and floating out) of gender and sexuality from the characterization of an enlightened, evolved being. I don’t think you get to be Jesus if you’re a polarized personality. I understand how radicalized the gay community has had to be in order to fight the oppression of what has been a radically straight and homophobic society. Going to extremes has been an absolute necessity. Still, the original goal is acceptance and compassion, sweeping and ubiquitous. And it just might be time for the silent B people to come out of their cupboards and perhaps even take the lead, along with transgender individuals, in helping the larger LGBTQetc. crowd get beyond any existing dualities.
Personally, this past year, I have had to gravitate away from certain people who were playing the roles of good friends in my life, specifically gay friends, around whom I felt invisible because they sought to ignore and indeed deny my identification as a bisexual. I came out to my parents when I was seventeen years old and despite the fact that my father specifically could be seriously closed-minded and something of a bigot, they totally accepted and understood that this was central to my essential nature. The same holds true in my thirty-plus love relationship with my wife. I can’t divorce any part of myself from the reality of my sexual identification. I’m no spring chicken. So being open an honest about my sexuality to my largely straight male friends all through college and beyond wasn’t the norm for them, but I was never treated like the odd man out or made to feel less than. At times, even, I felt my straight friends applauded me and were intrigued and, who knows, maybe I made it more comfortable for them to accept any gray spectral areas in themselves. Really the only shade came from inside the house of the LGBT(Q) community. And, during the eighties and nineties up to the present, it wasn’t the best time to be perceived as someone who lived anywhere along the spectrum. Extreme times do call for extreme measures, and it’s hard for a person to get their brain around being extremely gray. It wasn’t the bisexual or pansexual who broke through that; it was the transgender individual who did so. But some of us have been living for a long time beyond the binary of sexual identity, mostly invisibly—again due to fault only of our own—while the transgender community has moved past the binary as relates to gender.
I do see evidence of sexual evolution. I believe that a great number of young people don’t feel the need to identify as gay or straight or even bi or pan. They just are. And if they find themselves attracted to members of the opposite or same sex at the same time or at different epocs in their young lives they seem not to judge themselves and therefore invite judgment let alone censure. These are my people. These are people. I like to think that ten or fifteen years ago when I would declare myself bisexual on stage in performance, for instance, that I might have helped them feel that much more at ease. When, in my late teens and twenties, I did the unthinkable and urged (forced?) my straight male friends to hug me hello and goodbye and kissed them on the cheeks that I had something to do with the fact that straight men hug it out all the time now. I think that maybe I have already in my personal history dedicated myself, in some small way, to creating and nurturing new life. I have endured more than my fair share of shade and hate and disdain and sneers and side glances and whispers and all the rest by the other letters in the marquee and it’s only made me stand taller (as much as I can at my height) and look sharper and love more and find increased compassion. I have often wanted to say: you are doing to me exactly what you claim heteroworld has done to you all your life: denying my existence and hating, hating, hating. I can take it but it’s not okay. Just as it’s not okay, I don’t believe, to be a closeted bi or pan person. Especially when sexism comes into it. When it’s Megan Fox or Olivia Wilde it’s okay; but when it’s Billie Joe Armstrong or Michael Chabon or Marlon Brando or Pete Shelley or Leonard Bernstein or Cary Grant or Josh Hutcherson or Pete Townsend it’s not? In an ironic turn of phrase: Bitch, please.
Sociologically, today’s oracle speaks to pioneering efforts dedicated to the building of a new culture. It is all about rebirth. And I dare say it’s about rebranding. These aren’t mere birds, remember, they are game birds; and I will stretch for the intended puns here in that I have a new game face on now, seeing that my own rebirth shall be characterized by a winning resolve; and I’m also game—willing, eager, thrilled—to help to create a brave new world wherein relics of the past with their dinosaur ideologies and twentieth century snark can all gather together and read each other, sharpening their teeth that this new world, not dog-eat-dog, no longer requires. There are no theme weeks or dark rooms in my paradisal vision. Just people doing stuff, adhering to the golden rule while doing it. I am suffused with love for all people. Now let’s feed the hungry, lift the poor, proliferate the arts, depopulate the prisons and educate everyone. That is the new-life dream is it not?
I do believe in fairies. It’s one of the things I can’t not do. Then again I’m wont to see the animate in everything, inferring spirit and personality in a chair or china cup.
Are there occult forces at work behind all vital processes? Who’s to say. I have felt quite strongly at times that there are; and other times the notion eludes me. But the fairy world is an elusive one; their stories are often thematically hinged on that concept. You may slip into fairy land quite accidentally, but you might not get back to Wonderland or Narnia or Oz or Brigadoon or wherever Darby O’Gill saw those little people. Now let’s look at all of this as a metaphor for Creative Imagination. The trick and the goal is always to marry our dreams and our ideals with everyday reality, to live the dream: To understand that what you wish for is animated by the spark of the wish itself and what fans it into fire is belief, in yourself and in the dream. One positive result of having gone down a bit of a rabbit hole this past week is that I emerged with a newly improved dream. And I do believe in fairies because it’s my own nature to personify spirit(s), to assign personality. It’s a Libra thing, trust me.
It’s also why I can talk about the natural spirit energy that animates each of the astrological signs through the personification of archetypes, which is a life long passion and a never ending story of discovery. Elves and fairies are akin to the lesser gods of our mythology and they do embody field and stream and orchard and river and hilltop and wood and meadow and tree and flower just as more chief deities work their archetypal energy through we humans. We are not just people but personifications of energy. I try to hit this fact home in every show I ever perform and it tends to go over people’s heads or overloads them somewhat. I suppose it’s not typical cabaret fare. But the fact is that believing in fairies and spirits, allowing oneself to sense, feel or even see them as some have is tantamount to exercising your imagination rather vigorously. So if nothing else believing in fairies is good for your creative health. Imaging is just dreaming while awake.
To view the original Sabian Symbol themed 2015 Cosmic Blague corresponding to this day: Flashback! The degree pointof 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!
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