Scorpio 30° – Sagittarius 0° (November 22)
Last night was another doozy. Woke at two with the mind racing and bracing. This time the prevailing thought was all about taking a solid stand. I ran the notion by S. and wrote it up. We had a delish cassava linguine clam sauce last night and I’m super excited knowing there are leftovers to finish with a salad of butter lettuces. My dreams were so freaking bizarre. I pulled off a piece of my foot. Yeah not good. I am really happy to be launching this new live-it this week, and I feel much better being in Sagittarius. At least that’s what I’m telling myself: It’s a lesson in expansion. This is why writing some of the front-of-book matter might feel quite good. Otherwise it is a perfect time to power through. To go deeper into the yoga (and Yoda). It’s been such a long time, now, since I was in true farmer’s hours mode, falling early, sleeping through and up by 4:30, working with breakfast from 5-11, doing my exercise having lunch and then letting the rest of the day unfold with some winter cleaning, errands and the like. All this worry has caused me to live completely upside down.
The following blocks of text are exceprts from my first year of Blagues, nos. 1176-1180 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.
We didn’t get the beach today. I did manage to get a haircut from my ancient barber, Raphael, who told me the texture of my hair had changed. He recommended buying a huge tube of Nexxus from Amazon because it is only $25. His hours are 7:30 to 11:00 only four days a week. He starts his day at 7AM but sometimes clients are there at 6:30 waiting for him because they’d rather wait that half hour than three hours later in the morning; the place gets packed, mainly with elderly men, and Raphael takes his time.
I keep rejigging my schedule (which I shall continue to do for several days no doubt) the law of diminishing returns being levied on me, as I realize my idealistic notion of fitting in all the work I need to do before I leave will happen. It won’t. And so I’ll be taking it with me, which might be fine, lest I get too far behind (which I shall!). What I have managed to do is to get the website into some kind of shape. And to get all our graphics under way. I think I am in decent shape, not just with the festival, but with all my works; but I really won’t know until after this trip.
Traveling with work can go either way. You might just drag it with you and spend the whole time torn between the jobs you need doing and the beckoning holiday doings or the off-site-ness of the journey can provide some proper perspective for plowing through and hitting your marks in such a ways as can’t for the time being happen at home base. We hit walls when we look at the same four of them, day in and day out, trying to make professional magic—stepping away for a few weeks might just be the tonic the proverbial doctor ordered, even if you don’t actually do the work at hand (and so long as you make your peace with not doing so). But I have a good feeling this time out. Erin Markey is totes persona non grata and this juncture and another performer is now exhibiting signs of not following through. Given the former situation I have a short fuse with anyone making those kinds of waves; I think I might be on the defensive. Anyway I must have slapped her down enough that the grumblings stopped. And then of course, because I’m me, I felt bad. But I would have felt worse if I had to replace someone so there.
Got up at the crack of dawn and finished packing. And we were en route to Boston by 8ish. We checked our luggage in a day early to the Eliot; and I dropped La S. off at the bottom of Newbury Street and set off for my doctor’s appointment. My blood pressure was in the okay range which is better than it’s been—and I haven’t exactly been super careful. Gave some blood. Got a wee lecture on my weight and then headed back in to meet S. for lunch—a little pho—before meeting with the dean of the Museum School. I didn’t know much what to expect, but it surely turned out unexpectedly, and not in the greatest sense.
Some months ago I had Joseph Keckler to Harvard/ART/Oberon as part of our series. We brought him up a day early, I thought, so he could tech. Then I started seeing promotion on social media for an event he was doing, the day before his show, at the Museum School. The person posting it created a poster listing all the places he had performed but no mention of Afterglow or Oberon/ART on whose dime Keckler was in town. Nope. They just piggy-backed off our dime. Such a sleaze-oid move. And I definitely took issue with it. Well the dean, Nancy, who started the conversation about how she had a cancer scare and how her mentor had died actually had the nerve to bring the subject up and to tell me that Danielle had told her not to work with me.
So here I was, having to go on the defense for myself? Which, given the momentary shock of the situation, I sort of did. Which later missed me off even more. Then the Dean, Nancy, offered up as an excuse for Danielle that she was “mixed race” and gay or whatever word she used to describe her sexual identity—was this supposed to be an excuse for her being a total sleazeoid? I guess so. I guess she is so much the victim due to her race and her sexual proclivity that me, the supposedly straight white guy, is supposed to be like, “oh, okay, I get it, it’s fine—I understand why she’s a fucking asshole….no problem.”
You’ve got to be kidding me. What kind of narcissistic bullshit is this? All excuses and accusations. I left with a very bad taste in my mouth I have to say. But I’m not surprised. So many people are acting like this these days. Forget seeking forgiveness instead of permission—they don’t even seek said forgiveness. They just throw it in your face and act like you’re the culprit for taking issue. And I would bet my bottom dollar that if I weren’t white and male (and they I suppose presume straight?) this wouldn’t happen. Meanwhile during the meeting this Dean, Nancy, spouted off about her book writing and being a Simone de Beauvoir scholar, and about her husband and her son, Max, who was working for “Funny or Die” and was “really smart and funny and a real character”…and…yet…she was fawning over Brian, calling him a weirdo and a queer and all that sort of thing. I thought it was insulting as did S., but he didn’t seem to think so, so who am I to be offended form him?
Anyway we headed Nahth and had dinner with the Corbett family. We had stopped for some organic red and cheese and Nancoise had put out a picnic of cheeses and hummus and raw veggies and we had a nice ravioli, of which I regretted not having more. I fell into conversation about the visit from my high school friends, some short weeks ago. I can’t quite muster the energy right now to elaborate on that. But I will insert it here later, maybe, after cocktail hour:
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.