Capricorn 4° (December 26)
I was awakened by talking and was aware there was turbulence. A flight attendant had sat down to talk someone through it. It was a sibilant monologue. Apparently I shot her a look. Sorry but not really. I had an almond croissant. Soon we landed and I realized I had already lost my first item of the trip, a much needed pair of reading glasses. I will have to replace those. These things seem small but they do make for a sad and empty feeling, something I am struggling with anyway this time of year, having no family and friends who are hard to find. At the baggage claim the Virgo talked to us and I was having none of it. As I’m writing this I feel like I’m having some kind of allergic reaction. It feels to be all in my head, quite literally. I mean to say I’m feeling a physical sensation inside my head somewhere near where my throat meets my ears. Anyway. I’m sure it will pass (like the morning dew). Our driver will be late and unapologetic. I realize he’s just kind of not very bright. I sound like such an asshole and I’m not not. Especially today. The drive was fine but slow. London looked good to me on this quiet morning. We arrived at Myddelton Square but driver only took cash so S. had to set off to find some and returned to inform me that our cards weren’t working at multiple banks. Typical. I arranged the bags and drank some sparkling and we set off in search of lunch because it was not time for it. The only things open in Exmouth Market were the Greek deli place and a delicious Italian restaurant where we (I) got into a state. I’m not good at directly communicating my feelings at this point and am being weird and exaggerative, two euphemisms for something worse. I just want to shed some skin and don’t know how to do it. The point is I’m terribly disappointed in what transpired with agent and all that and I simply cannot process it. It is eating me from the inside out. I will reach out to make a plan to speak on the sixth. I really can’t say more about the date at hand other than I came back to sleep and returned to the restaurant at around ten o’clock and overate and overspent and am just plain over myself.
I had this weird dream that I was acting in a play with Lucille Ball. She lived in my (parents’) house in Belmar, New Jersey. And I had to visit her first to pick her up or something. It was sort of like she was coming out of retirement. It was an uneasy dream. I had to drive along the turnpike or parkway to our house in Wyckoff as well. I have a strange numbness. I’m sure from carrying all our bags and so forth. I need a bit of recuperation. I don’t know where I left the bag of food. All I know is I didn’t have it when I returned. And really the last thing I needed was a hit off a joint from strangers. I was having a sort of out of body experience I think. I do not want to repeat this. I forgot to take the necessary required. Tomorrow will be quite a dip as a result of all this. I will have that very scary kind of feeling I won’t know how to shake it. I am definitely not in tiptop form now. I did hope that I would sail into this new reality feeling a lot better than I do. Anyway I have to transcend the cause of all this which is still this crappy book situation. What a lousy bunch of people work in that industry. Honestly, it has never been fun to work in any aspect of publishing. I do have a sort of funny idea of what kind of book I could write but it would be a rather ironic publication. Waking Nightmares Working in Publishing. I do think it could be rather fun to put out there. The stories would run chronologically. The first one would be about Paris 1985 working at Passion (and would include meeting all the friends we now have; Dizzy Place, and the do you sell Passion question, fashion shows, Princess Caroline, Clic, the mini tell, Ilene Rosensweig, Andree Carroon, Stephen Daly (was that his name?) Robert, Maia, Mimi, Stacy Madadam. I applied for an internship I guess. I do believe I remember writing a letter saying why I wanted to be an intern, having no money and having to leave, going to Tilburg in any case; there being a staff party and going to Le Palace, taking Jackie and Lawrence, going dancing at the club privé, David Clark was also an intern, writing about the biologique market. Hanging out at La Palette.
I suppose the next chapter would be Avenue magazine and the move to New York. This would include the Mikail Barysh story, also DV8 and that whole world. It would include acting and Uta and maybe New York Social Calendar which actually happened before the book of the month club and comedy class and all that jazz; perhaps it would bridge into the next wave of working at all the magazines like Detour and InStyle and YM and Paper. I think Paper might have happened before National Actors and all that but probably not. I will need to work out something of a timeline. And then all the fashion show era and pitching to the Face and all that perhaps and working for City TV and the Darren Star bit. All of that would probably go together nicely together. Something about losing all my notebooks at Florent. The rest will have to be sorted out as we go. We know it involves the crap our publishers pulled. People are basically really awful in that industry. We will see what happens next.
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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