Capricorn 12° (January 2)

I was up for most of the night once again. I am trying not to see these times as overly stressful but they aren’t that easy either. Anyway, I have turned a corner now so that Is the good news. I am all forward movement I just need to continue to catch up on sleep and the more rested I become the more productive I will be. we ended the Holidays with a nice bit of a bang and have been cooking some really good meals. We have mechanisms in works for hitting our marks and the more relaxed idley we can do that the better. I don’t think I really want to leave where I’m living . I’ve been here for such a long time and it really does feel like home. I’m not really sure what’s going down with Realtors in real estate but I don’t suspect things are going to get any less expensive in a place like Cape Cod so investing isn’t that scary at this point. I’m gonna do all the lists of lists today and get my wardrobe and Twilight toilet toilette there we go together and see what’s what. I had a nice chat with Kip this past week which felt very positive and I’ve been keeping my spirits bright and looking forward to keeping my head down the next few months in finding solutions to existing problems. Going to check on the book sales today also it was great to hear that some of the T shirts have been selling so that’s a really good sign I think it’s maybe time to step things up in that Department since it seems to be working period there seems to be a market for that I feel like you can get the sales really moving. So I will schedule a time to speak with Tim. I suppose the greatest thing about imagining just moving down the road is that it really would be no different to moving anywhere ha the same amount of work has to happen although in this case it would be easy to just slide on over if you will. That would be the easiest thing to imagine happening. And I don’t mind a contemporary feel to be honest. I am going to accentuate the positive every day and work from a position of strength. Mighty forces are already coming to my aid. As I write this a murder of crows descends. I just want to do the best job I can do on the regular; and I find it doable to enjoy this time of year because, being “second semester” it is a time for working longer hours, not fewer, every day, getting a jump so to be at the desk by five and to put thoughts to paper by eleven and then do some yoga and the rest of the day is gravy, really. 

The following blocks of text are exceprts from my first year of  Blagues, nos. 1381-1385. 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.

Today I’d like to write about Paris. The first time I saw Paris was in September of 1983. I spent a week there en route to Grenoble for my university year abroad. A treasure trove of stories, most of which I’ve written about elsewhere, in various forms, abound from this trip beginning that very week alone. But I’m not here now to tell stories. My impression of Paris was immediate wonder. We stayed in the 7th arrondissement on the rue Saint-Dominique, which it self stayed the same for another twenty years; so we would go back to our same restaurants and hotels, mainly Thoumieux, which was both. Then one day it all went away—the same owner, decade after decade, timeless in his leather vest, the men and women servers in uniform, the sublime same sameyness in dark red leather and shiny wood, the sexually suggestive vegetable mural-size painting on the wall, the secret upstairs hotel rooms with their 1960s swizzle-swagger. In 1983 we launched this expression—life is just a series of beds—which became a verbal meme, anachronistic though that may be. I’m finding that as I get older life is just a series of pangs for the unrecoverable past, and particular episodes thereof which were set in Paris. In 1985 we moved to Paris and lived in the 17th, the 15th and ultimately the 1st on rue des Halles. This was as banner a year if not more than the one two years previous. I was fresh out of school and faffing about before landing a magazine position, at Passion, and a restaurant job, as le barman, in an American restaurant owned by Jewish brothers-in-law in the Marais, which was then just becoming a place where things were. There were no designer shops. Our haunt was called The Swing, where we’d meet and drink cheap beer and wine. Always on our own it seemed Stella and I would go to Castel where, for some reason, they always let us right in. That reason was probably Stella. I wouldn’t have a chance on my own. I will continue these Paris reveries, but I should get a few pages down on the Scorpio experience, just to leave myself open to new insights on that score.

The move from Libra to Scorpio is like a long day’s journey into night. Just as the first uber masculine energized first sign Aries is followed by its opposite uber feminine powered Taurus, here, on the other side of the Zodiac, Libra, the sign of high consciousness, is followed by Scorpio, the deep dark recesses of the subconscious. The only sign with co-rule planets, Pluto and Mars, the former being very much the underworld version of the latter: Pluto, or the Greek Hades, with his eponymous subterranean abode is the embodiment, as is his female counter part, Persephone, of not only our own subconscious but that which is still universally so: as yet unearthed truths, mysteries, discoveries, cures and clues as to the nature of our universe.  And whether in their own mysterious interior, or in that of those in their lives, or people, society, in general Scorpio people are determined to get to the bottom of what’s making everyone and everything tick. Thus, they are the first to tune into theticks of people, places and things, seeing their way into that which others might be (consciously or subconsciously) hiding and that which is kept hidden, secret, taboo culturally and sociologically.

Oh god that was some kind of start. Oh well I’m doing the best I can. I’m not sure why I resist using past things I’ve written as a jumping off point. I suppose I feel better making the first inroads trying to invent the wheel as best as I can. I don’t know why I often pose a sentence in question form. I suppose it’s to force me to answer. Anyway it’s a good writing mechanism when you need to flush out you brain along the way.

Scorpio is the fixed-water signs–fixed signs being the second in a trio of signs—cardinal, fixed, mutable—that make up each of the astrological quadrants. Scorpio is the middle sign in the third quadrant, that which correlates to the intellectual and experiential realm of life, how one relates to other individuals and groups. One of Libra, which kicks off this quandrant, is We are (opposing the sign of Aries, I am); while Scorpio’s mottos are We have (opposing the sign of Taurus, I have) and I desire. Fixed-signs, fortify, intensify, concentrate and distill. Fixed-water translates to ice, crystals and, by extension, gems wrought by subterranean heat and pressure. Macrocosmically, gems, jewels are a metaphor for the as yet hidden meanings and wisdom and other such discoveries which effect us all, collectively, as well as repressed bits of our individual selves, awaiting to be mined. Scorpio people tend to be probling of others but rather sphynxlike themselves.

Pluto and Persphone are chtonian deities, inhabiting the underworld; as archetypes for those born under the sign, it speaks to Scorpio people’s severe penchant for privacy, default suspicious demeanor, their relatively goth perspective that sees them recoil from scenesters, showoffs, socialites or the like who seek outside approval, something Scorpio people rarely do, and sometimes to a fault.

After a few days’ break from gods know what. Let’s see this is Monday. I just got back two days ago. And that was one kinda blow-outy night and one mellow one. Not sure why I was so forgetful of shows. I mean I see them and forget them. I need reminding. I watched two fabulous art docs and I did manage to move the spoon on next week’s Desiree show—tickets are moving, we hopefully have a bit of press—and I have to make my peace with the Thrion situation. That’s my name for it. I do need to be kind. I’ve been treated so shabbily; but one can never dwell on that sort of thing, not for a moment. This is a lesson you learn over time. Some people (S) were probably evolved in this arena very early on. But people are different you see. Everyone’s path is different and we might as well just accept it.

I had a funny thought about the Universe and of god and the devil. I was watching a film called Young Messiah or some thing about Jesus as a seven-year-old (I kind of liked it) and there is a devil in it whom only seven-year-Jesus can see or hear; and they have some pretty cool (verbal) battles. Anyway, the blond haired Lucifer calls himself the Prince of Chaos and I got to thinking about quantum physics and how as we move more macrocosmically (let’s call that heavenward) the universe is divinely ordered but as we travel microcosmically, it becomes increasingly chaotic. So what if the dichotomy of god and devil was a personification thereof. Lends new meaning to the phrase the devil is in the details.

Mostly metaphorically, Scorpio’s I desire energy is linked to the sign’s rule over the genitalia of the body. I know there i more to say about that. There is more to say about everything. There is outspoken want for this book. Though it is a stand-alone volume that doesn’t presume you’ve read Sextrology or even need to, we hope it will increase that book’s sales as well. I meant to add that all kinds of conjuring could be going on. As I get into this myself it should inform the work. I’m happy to publish this when I’m sixty and to have thirty years with it. That would be a lovely thing, but I need to make changes and start pacing myself now don’t you reckon.

We were meant to do an event but it was postponed until March which is probably just as well really. I started writing this just after a recent trip and then I ended up getting swept up in more travel and potential drama, the former of which fueled a mini weight gain, and the latter of which didn’t take hold in the least. Although the would be fomentor did try his level best. There are good people in the world and there is lots of fun to be had and there are people to help and there is plenty of time to do everything. I also feel inspired not to spend any money that needn’t be spent and to make sure that all i’s are dotted and t’s crossed. There is the story about the mechanic and the one about uncle lynnies.

We see overnight that our event is postponed as there is meant to be a storm. I feel a yearning inside me to write fiction. Scoring some press in the Globe for Desiree is great. I have to write an elevator pitch for a new book. Wearing so many different hats, I always have interesting, but disparate things to do. But it’s like I tell a Libra: Everything eventually begins to work in concert. I don’t know what to tell the Scorpios, except that they should specialize. Funny that P.S. will end up doing something similar to J.D. I’ve been writing intros to next year’s books; but with travel I really think I will need a break. It never works to drag things with like that. Anyway, I will need to travel some hotel reservations and be in touch with my lawyer and read over some legal documents that have been sent and to catch up fully on book keeping and otherwise putting things to rights or into motion. I have sent things along to our graphic genie; I need to remove J.P. from one board and B.C. from another. I need to add a new board member, in fact. And I’m happy to let that take a good long while. It will be smart to pull out the outline of how cash is all meant to flow and to get up to speed on some budget projections. Anway that’s what I’ll focus on since I can’t get to Boston today due to the weather.

I’ve decided to go with some muted mid-century Pollock as my Afterglow Festival logo insiration this year. And it’s taking a little doing to get would-be collaborators to not put carts before horses. Though I’m not sure they ever learn. And we do have to stay open and not put all our eggs in one basket. It is relaxing to think of what can be achieved now and in short order. There is a pile of work to plow through but so long as we do it in bite sized nuggets, all will be right with the world. It is imperative to get a hold on any excesses, whether in the form of finances or other such earthly delights. I do feel already more streamlined and proud of myself given the breadth and proliferation of my accomplishments. I need to raise my game, now, even more; and by April to be out and about gathering interest (and money). There should be something relieving about what we’re doing here. I do have every day planner I’ve ever owned. And I do feel these sentences are adding up to something, if not building up to. Perhaps it makes sense to push even a little bit more. Anyway, what needs doing is really the same things that always need doing. Right now it’s more a matter of maintenance than anything else.

Back in the earliest time we lived in the West Village and I met that lovely fellow Marcus who was from Michigan or something. This was way before the internet. I think I might already have been working at the Bell Caffe. Wow what a time that was. My day consisted of going to the piers to lay out in the sun and happening by Mrs. Hudson’s video. I remember that feeling of a Spring chill off the water hitting a slight sunburn and reading The Sheltering Sky. I only worked a few days a week really at that time. Or perhaps I hadn’t even started at the Bell. Anyway, I was writing a lot, poetry mainly. And then all my many books I had gathered to anotate one sweltering day, all day, at Florent, were later that day stolen from the trunk of our car we parked near the Angelika Film Center. Everything was gone. I don’t think I’ve written poetry since then to be honest. Sometimes I’d like to create a timeline of thoughts and images and snippets of self in some virtual scrapbook. Though one is never sure if that would bear any fruit, it certainlly does sound reassuringly reorganizing. I don’t know why today doesn’t feel so terribly stressful; and then again I do now remember. I might have taken half a something. I’ve forgotten just how relaxing that can be. Though surely nothing I could get used to.

Today is my maternal grandmother’s birthday. I want to say she will have been 113 or something like that it is absolutely extraordinary to think of, isn’t it? She was a very kind person but not someone who left a very deep mark, excepting we her grandchildren, and maybe her own children whom I feel largely dismissed her. She only had a sixth-grade education so that was a thing. My horrible father used to make shanty Irish jokes at her. She would respond by saying: shit in your hat. She used the word dear to mean expensive. It’s akin go the French, a celtic connection maybe. This reminds me of my own “French family” the Gastaldos with whom I lived for eight or so months over the fall to spring, 1983 and 1984. I do fall back nostalgically into the arms of those years. I saw the family in 2015 I believe it was, in the fall, and soon after the head of the family who was likely not even ten years older than me died in a hole in his own backyard.

We check in after lunch at Beantown, pick up shoes and (they didn’t have La Stoppa); we freshen up and meet G. at the Harvard museum. We have a great chat about Truscott’s show at M.I.T. the week prior, and all the synchronicities thereof. G. is the bomb. She’s so lively and creative. She takes us to see her exhibition and then to dinner at Celeste, a Peruvian restaurant whose proprietors are friends. Cars are easy breezy to take here and there. It’s a wonderful city that way. One really doesn’t need a car. It would make sense to garage one I suppose. But then again. Everything is up in the air right now. What I haven’t mentioned is that N. is going in for a surgery and everyone is shook up about it. I am not stressed in the least as I am utterly convinced there is nothing seriously wrong that the surgery wouldn’t swiftly cure. Sometime when you go looking for answers you get more questions. So we will head there tomorrow after clients.

So it turned out that the guy who put on the show at MIT is the ex-husband of an actress friend of someone we know. Which is funny. This actress came up in conversaton, too, on the subject of publishing. Apparently she has this great represenation and G. thinks we should have it too. Meanwhile today and tomorrow someone else is meeting in NYC on an idea for which he had me write this little pitch yesterday. There is also a thirty page draft of a proposal. Anyway, I will learn tomorrow that the idea wasn’t pitched but instead one I had already said should be on back burner was; which is fine; I’m all for spontaneity. I just think we’ve been around the block longer and have learned to take with a ginormous grain of salt even the slightest show of interest, or, actually even the most effusive on the part of a publisher who can promptly urge the inexperienced author to jump through a series of challenging but unnecessary hoops. And anyway, first things first. I really like this fellow who is interested in perhaps helping but still keeping options open—one has to—in this business until both parties, writer and representation, are in a complete meld. It is best to expect the best in any case and to go from there.

I was on a bit of a run with some thoughts on Scorpio and the dragon protecting the jewels and gems. And it will turn out that more on the theme will unfold in the coming days. I feel as if I am taking stock of indulgences and sliding back into a very healthful routine; also in the face of any new bounty, I always find my most ascetic self. Speaking or which I cannot wait to go through all papers and so forth and to either throw things away, give things away, keep things in archive boxes or make art out of said items. I think it would be fun and funny to have a private art showing open house of sorts. Maybe this is the party I need to have this spring for fundraising. I would like to activate the home cabaret space. I’m going to get up the nerve too to write and say with all our travels we didn’t think to get tickets early is there a number to call for house seats? If you”re up for it would love to see you after for drinks and nibblies? I’m easing my way into it.

I do need to sit in my beautifully chic office which will get a nice red coat of paint this year; and I will begin my vaudeville circuit, and I will book FOOL shows; I will also get new grant for BOTAB going; and I’ll write a beautiful thing about what we’re doing with our Provincetown festival and our collaboration with the American Repertory Theater and our plans to go beyond. And I’ll turn that into something of a presentation; and I will raise money for what I’m doing; and I’ll reach out to Endicott and see if they’d like to collaborate as well with us this year, in terms of our new grantee, or just in general. That will be my general office and my creative work will start up again via the Blagues and the remerchandising of my writing every which way. We had a comprehensive chat about the podcast direction for the brand: We have two non mutually exclusive ideas on that score.

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.