Gemini 26° (June 15)
I supposed if I’ve learned anything today it’s that I have a pretty terrible memory. I really thought that I had written this Blague every day for the last five and a half years. I knew there was a period a couple of years ago where I went months without writing and then actually wrote seven Blagues a day for months in order to catch up and fill that gap. What I didn’t realize was that in the summer of 2016 I stopped again and started up again, only to completely stop again for a few months—no surprise—the day after it won the election. Today, though this will appear on the June fifteenth post, I am writing this on the fourteenth, which is that birthdate of that monstrosity. It is time to invoke the gods for an end to this tyranny. And I suppose in some way I am accepting of the fact that I am temporarily relieved from the tyranny of sorting through old bits of text. And the good news is it will make next (the seventh) year’s process of writing this Blague that much easier, as I seek to categorize all my work to date into files that are at this point undelienated to me. The only thing is, in recompense, that I will need to write in things here instead, which is also fine, I hasten to add, because I will be going through mountains of other writing to create new departure points in thought for a creative project at hand. And so I accept what this Blague is telling (and giving) me; and anyway, I didn’t mean to lie to you dear reader. I truly believed I didn’t let a day go by without writing and I dare say I can’t imagine a single one of you (and I mean that litereally, in addressing my readership) will discover the truth of the matter. Still, please forgive my unwitting mendacity in all of this.
The following blocks of text are exceprts from my first year of Blagues, nos. 416-420. 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.)
Originally excerpted June 8, 2016:
“While many astrologists lump the genders together under the signs, Starsky and Cox, who consult private clients in New York City, here separate the very different male and female qualities. For each of the 12 signs, there is a corresponding chapter that includes subchapters on men and women. Both genders are described in three ways: “Sign + Mind” covers general personality traits, “Body + Soul” indicates eerily accurate physical attributes and modes of expression, and “Sex + Sexuality” details sexual attitudes and behavior, the feature that is the most fun. These descriptions are accurate and entertaining, even encompassing gay and lesbian sexuality. The result is an extremely engaging, detailed book; readers will easily recognize themselves and their loved ones. Libraries that own Linda Goodman’s classic Love Signs will want this winner, a strong candidate for a Valentine’s Day display.-Marija Sanderling, Wells, ME (c) Copyright 2010. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.”
“Juicy, gossipy and occasionally titillating, this astrology guide by New York authors Starsky & Cox explores the zodiac signs “from the perspective of gender, sexual identity and sexual behavior.” The authors contend that each astrological sign actually contains two signs-one male and one female-and that men and women of the same sign often manifest their sign’s energy in opposite fashions. Thus, a Capricorn man may be “an unadulterated sybarite who puts the pursuit of pleasure and laughs first in life” while his female counterpart usually sees life as “a long, hard road that requires pacing and careful negotiation.” Determined to give each sex its due share, the authors divide their book into 24 chapters (Aries Man, Aries Woman, Taurus Man, etc.). Each chapter contains a psychological profile of the sign, an analysis of the sign’s physical attributes and expressions and a description of the sign’s sexual attitudes and behavior. This last section can often be quite explicit, describing not only romantic ideals and compulsions but also specific positions and fetishes. In discussing Scorpio’s sexuality, for example, the authors declare that “of all the women in the zodiac, Scorpio may be the most open to anal sex.” In addition to the usual lists of famous sign natives, Starsky & Cox pepper their chapters with allusions to movies and books, artists and writers-J.D. Salinger, Matthew Barney, Sylvia Plath-making this book a good choice for stargazing bookworms and artists. Also notable is their decision to consider both straight and gay relationship matches. In their introduction, the authors declare that the zodiac is “a mandala of human existence,” and their book gives readers a chance to contemplate that mandala in all its variations. (Feb.) Copyright 2004 Reed Business Information.”
Originally posted November 9, 2016:
It’s not like I don’t have enough (writing) to do, but I must bring back the Cosmic Blague as a daily practice, now, if only for my own sanity. And maybe some bits of yours. Let’s hope. The knee jerk reaction is: Today is a dark day. And in large part that is true. That said, it also feels like an opportunity to stop doing things the same way and expecting different results—the definition of insanity. My first go-round of the Cosmic Blague was in exploration of the Sabian Symbols. I will link to those former posts corresponding to the degree-point on the astrological wheel for each day; but I’m not going to get into to that. I hope the remain helpful—you’ll tell me—but I can’t go back and read them at this juncture. I must be all forward movement. Though I do think the title of today’s Sabian Symbol does match that sentiment.
Trump won the presidency a few short hours ago. I have moved from shock to a sort of quiet resolve not to watch any cable news—I will watch Judy Woodruff on PBS and that’s about it. I’ve not just had enough of the constant news coming from the television screen or the screen on which I’m currently typing this. I’m in a sense tired of my own blind optimism, not just on a grand scale, but in my own life as well. As I type this I am awaiting responses from a number of emails from “friends and colleagues” who are keeping me in a holding pattern. And with this sentence I release them. And the next: Anybody whom I empowered with decision making over any subsequent next moves in my life is hereby absolved of that responsibility. I’m doing it for myself. And I’m chasing noone.
I feel for Hillary. I feel for Bernie. I feel for Stella. I feel for anyone like myself who invested time and energy and upper-case Hope in an outcome over which we had scant control. We voted. We did our best. We lost. That’s the reality. And though the way my molecules feel newly arranged today was not of my choosing, it is so. I am not just mourning the lost of this election, I am mourning a large part of myself, whom I was, and whom I shall never be again. And for that I’m strangely thankful.
Mars entered Aquarius this morning and so we shall probably see a great deal of anger and revolt played out on large scale—in protests and demonstrations—as well as unrest and upheaval shifting to humanity at large. Paradoxically, as Americans voted narrowly for isolationism, they have thrust themselves onto the world stage, no longer safe within the bubble of some shining mansion on the hill. We are no longer a beacon. We are evidence of undereducation. Nothing romantic about it. Just the plain truth: We are two nations. Unfortunately, the other nation here all turned out to rally around a common orange cause from their rural strongholds. While much of our nation stayed at home in their cities, failing to get out the vote as they did, twice, for the now present lame duck president. But what are you going to do.
I’m certainly not going to spend a second longer than I have to feeling bad about myself or what is assuredly a sorry state of affairs. Fuck it. I’m going to go higher in my personal and would-be shared aspirations and and I’m going to sit deeper into self-reliance and purposeful solitude. I have a profession with many prongs, the first of which is helping others over hurdles via my combined talents as an expert astrologer and metaphysician and as an intuitive with powers that pass through me and to which I can claim no award—as to do so, I suspect, would dull them. And nothing makes me happier or lifts me out of a blue mood (or a would-be deep abyss) more readily than giving of myself to clients who benefit from the work I do as honorably as I might.
I am also a creative. I am an author. I am a writer of all sorts. I am also a performer and an actor, not being one and the same. I love to sing and play music and write and perform things that make people think and make them laugh. I also have other talents that I’ve used for personal and professional purposes. But I say now, with Mars in Aquarius, sneaking up on my natal Moon, that I am going to be far more selective in my work as a producer and promoter of other peoples; and far mor indulgent in arts and crafts that I do in the privacy of my home which, I’m grateful to say, has enough rooms in which I can steal myself away.
I am fortunate. I am fortunate because I made myself fortunate. I am reliant on nobody else for my peace and happiness which is why even the slightest self-destructive move can cause more devestation to me than others. I cannot phone anything in or just subsist and let weekly paychecks roll in. I have to be a warrior. And today, as the warrior Mars is in the reformational sign of Aquarius, that of new orders, I am examining what that means to me, foremost, with a tertiary glance, perhaps, at what that means for the world. I am a warrior for myself. The path is indeed illuminated as the script of the below Sabian Symbol suggests. But it is illuminated not by blind faith. It is illuminated by my determination. I am a warrior for myself. Then for my loved ones, who are few. Then for my clients, my readers, my audience such as it is. People say all shall be revealed. That’s great. I prefer to be the revelation. Armageddon? It only means a drawing back of the veil. The veil—the parting clouds of Iris’ rainbow over which we go, the rainbow colored veils of Salome—are endemic to the sign of Aquarius (John the Baptist being one personification of the Water Bearer). Mars rips through the veils and I say: Shred that shit up. I’m thankful for my illusions having been removed. It potentially only makes my own path clearer.
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!
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