Pisces 1° (February 19)


Today is the first full day of Pisces. I love entering the sign of Pisces, ruled by Neptune, which is the energy of dissolution. Pisces is the primordial soup from whence everything comes and to which it must return. It is during this time of year when, as a child, walking to school, there would be those foggy, misty mornings where the road was covered in Earth Worms, wriggling in the damp and puddles. Pisces is mutable water and it is symbolized by mist, vapor, sea foam and the like. Mist.

I want to go in two directions. How Pisces with its opposite-facing fish; I want to go further into the stormy, highly-tuned poirposed Poseidon power of the Pisces and I wish to continue speaking to the need to dissolve (the energy of Neptune is dissolution) into what might be combined, though opposite stemming destiny and truest desire.

I had moved to Paris in 1985 and I was under some kind of notion that I would be a cabaret singer, even though, as mentioned I didn’t sing until I did so for the creators of Hair. Another story I may or may not get to. But it is interesting and it is pure and it does speak to the fact that always thought of myself as a separate kind of being; many of us did that’s the point; though for me it wasn’t hinged on sexuality or gender but being beyond it, being some kind of angel of light, a part I could play all the way through my twenties and, I would say, up until around my thirty-third year. I will have to piece it all together.

Actually I sang once more at the Bell Caffe I just remembered. A boy called Ty—I will have to ask Chris Tanner what his last name was—he used to be a club kid in a scout’s outfit, anyway he was also very musical, and I had him arrange “Staying Alive” for me in 1992 I think it was, perhaps 1993. And I performed it at the Bell Caffe. I had the same kind of response I had each few time I had done something like this in the past. Before this it was probably in 1979 at a high school party when, drunk and stoned, I jumped on stage to sing Sweet Home Alabama. I was pretty well booed of the stage, mainly by the band (Paul Everett, a friend of Cindy Verms was in it…he would have been ten years my senior and had no place at a high school party). Anyway there was the one girl who that next Monday in school cornered me to tell me how amazing I was. That was the opposite opinion of everyone else at the party. I’ve always appealed to the 1%. Well that was the reaction I had after singing at the Bell. People seemed to hate me but for one woman, who was the same “type” as my high school fan, who came up to me to praise me in a similar fashion. This sort of thing would keep happening. It still happens.


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