Cancer 12° (July 2)

 

I have been kicking ass on the work front for sure and as the trip shall begin in just a week’s time I have to keep up this pace in order to be in a great position to embark. There really is so much to comprehend. I went to Provincetown yesterday morning to meet with  the grant office and get that ball rolling. Today marks ten weeks until festival which is still a lot of time to move some major mountains. I have plowed through all the design stuff with my graphic guy and am way ahead of the game on that score. I need to still get the venue box office what they need and to write a press release—I want to focus on the historical angle as well as our tradition being innovation, a mandate for newness. I’ve also managed to put a fire under the Cambridge series artists. And then I have to get into purely fundraising mode on that score. Thursday and Friday of this week needs to be laser focused on my book proposal so that I can just muse on the sample material as I travel and publish my notes here on that score. Doesn’t that sound like a very good plan. This might actually be a relaxing trip away. Wouldn’t that be novel.

I’ve been doing the teeth whitening thing. They want me to do it for ten days but I don’t think I will do that much. I’m also supposed to do it at night but I’ve instead been doing it in the day which has been great for my diet since I can’t eat anything while the “trays” are in. I do have my weight down somewhat and still two weeks to go but travel weeks so it might be tough. That said I feel as if I’ve got it on the run and if I just start the big decompress I can make myself happy-easeful. Which has nothing to do with weight. I talk about weight a lot. I think it’s because I was such a skinny, pee-wee of a child; I had so little body fat you could practically see through me. I was a gentle little thing, tiny, fragile and often ill. I really was a sickly child now that I think about it. Besides just always being sick with colds and flu and viruses, throwing up, and all of that; I was also allergic to everything. So being fat feels weird and wrong and like my father invaded my body.

He was fat but not jiggly fat. He had a giant round, hard, solid, strained even, gut that extended way out over his body. Nowadays we might say he was gluten intolerant but I don’t think a day ever passed without pasta and he probably ate pastry, danish, for breakfast and drank cocktails and wine and was a terrible appetite addict, although never an alcoholic, despite the fact he sorta drank a lot. Wine (any color) with ice, served, preferably, in a carafe with cubes in a bowl on the side. And if you didn’t give him tiny tongs or at least a spoon he would make a big deal out of it. So what? I’m supposed to use my hands? If you’re reading this it means you’re not an asshole yourself so you’re probably like what-an-asshole about my Dad and you would be justified in that position 100%. He had very few redeeming qualities and powerful ones so it’s impossible to totally hate him but I have to say the case is close. He hit me; he scapegoated me; he hated me because I was in his eye effiminate; it’s not like he was afraid for me that I might turn out to be gay which would have seemed a challenge for lack of a better word; he was determined, I think, to have a chip off the old block—some dumb block head—with whom he could rough house and otherwise jock out. I’m sorry but that was too gay for me.

I bare my soul here everyday and it’s so funny that nobody reads it. It really doesn’t much matter. I should though spill the beans on the whole John Derian thing. What an…

 

 

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!
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