Sagittarius 18° (December 10)

I awoke and wrote a note to the bank people. The loser president is trying overthrow the will of the people and otherwise destroy democracy. I cannot believe it is that same loser we all laughed at in New York in the eighties and nineties. How does something like this happen? I honestly think it is an argument for the existence of a multiverse, in some bad prism of which I seem to be stuck. Maybe there is another me who is enjoying a Hillary presidency or where I maybe am the president myself. I keep rejigging the old schedule and I am getting myself in and ready for a productive next three months, during which time I will rule the proverbial school. I feel like a broken record so I can only imagine how I sound. Oh, well, what to do. We are eating a ton of fish. Scallops last night, Shrimp the nights before that, on and on, backwards and forwards. Flounder, Salmon. I am writing this on the twelfth and every dinner since the third, and most lunches too, have consisted of fish. This is all I can think about writing today. Sad isn’t it. I need to get a move on with other things. That’s why I have put more words to read below.

The following blocks of text are exceprts from my first year of  Blagues, nos. 1266-1270. 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.

I’m in a very 1990s head today, like looking through a Josef Astor lens. I think of folks I knew—Heisel, the Rosenbergs, Dischinger, Tyrnauer—and would like to revist that whole era as a theme, not of nostalgia, but as a point of reference. I would like a lot of things. I would like a close friend who “gets me” to talk to; the kind of friend you had as a kid, but, as an adult is impossible to come by. It’s just one of the contributors to my loneliness and feelings of isolation. Anyway, that’s my problem. The riches, as they say, are in the niches. And in that I mean the spiritual sort. It becomes increasingly important to own all of it. And to just get on with what has come to be called my daily existence. Sometimes this Blague can be ha-ha funny and sometimes it can just point ot the funniness of life. Okay, who’s up for a timed writing of forty minutes? Let’s do it!

Phase four of 2018 is heavily focussed on clients. We are going to be taking appointments on the Cape late November to mid-December,then Boston and NYC, through Christmas. I have ten days, now to finish writing the twelve new Haute Astrology books for the year. And in this period of time I will be getting the writing underway for our December show, which is always fun. Unless it isn’t. LOL It all comes down to teamwork, which is in short supply these days. Not in a bad way—it’s just everybody is so busy making bank and posting pics of themselves with celebrities. It might sound trite or knee jerk but it just insn’t enjoyable. The only way to be these days is anonymous; which is a paradoxical take on preserving a social-media presence which will remain necessary for professional purposes. But I am ever so slowly working my way into a glorious state of renewed privacy.

I’m so especially—I won’t say sick or tired because I don’t feel sour-grape-ish in the least here—weirded out (is the term) by friends I’ve had, dating back to nobody being on MySpace, with whom I used to meet and hang and grab coffee or play games after Chinese food delivery, having given themselves some East Village version of a Kardashian makeover and now only ever seem to exist for the camera, cheeks pressed together with the most famous figure to be found in any given room. It seems sociopathic. I would never end a friendship over something like this but I honestly feel if I do nothing these types of friendships will slip away because I won’t be in any of their pictures. Friendships now seem to be based on ones most recent Album in Photos. It’s all fine. I don’t mind slipping away unnoticed.

I would love to rent-to-buy a small building with a storefront for work, full basement for storage and studio and upstairs apartment (duplex?). This has always been one of my dreams. I am so into me right now. And my blue-apron vision of myself. My two greatest requirements are a killer kitchen and a giant clawfoot bathtub. These are the things I most want in life. I see it so clearly now. Too much to ask? Shooting way too low? LOL I am not being honest with you. I don’t know that I ever have. You don’t need to know the truth after all. You don’t want it— be honest yourself.

Three weeks until we set off to London and then Montreal. You cannot believe what I have to pull off between now and then. It really is absurd. But, you know what, I’m not complaining. There is something powerful and quite spiritual in the air. I feel like being the person I always was, characterized in large part by being highly allergic to the sychophantic. Some of my most famous friends are also the worst sycophants. It’s like, dude/tte, just chill and be with yourself. Jeez. So much postering and social climbing. It’s incredibly boring. I like the word boring because I imagine the original term was closer to having something boring into your skull. That is a far better image of boredom that this kind of vague meaning we attach to it in modern times. There is so much to dig down into. And many lessons learned on the theme of not creating more obstacles for oneself.

We live in a society where not only wealth, but attention is in the hands of the very few. And those same people keep on being given money and opportunity and encouragement. Honestly I don’t need to see or hear from Lena Dunham ever again, except, maybe as a guest judge on Ru Paul’s Drag Race. She was good on that. And I’m sure she’s perfectly sweet; but can we stop calling artists those who pump out schlock? I don’t need to watch her make money off of inserting her own personal struggles into plotlines. I have problems of my own. And solutions to. I’m in take-no-prisonsers mode at present. I’m going to get where I’m going with or without any help from patrons or applause from the peanut gallery. It’s up to me and it’s down to me.

We have a client today which is unusual as we don’t typically do this on Saturdays but that’s okay. I actually need something of a palate cleanser; and I didn’t get much else done but that’s also not necessarily a bad thing. Sometimes you need to sacrifice to your work and sometimes you need to sacrifice the doing of the work. I did the latter today and shall do the former tomorrow. I’m thinking of tomorrow as one of my playing for time days where I pretend my life absolutely depends on my finishing a certain project or else something terrible will happen, like I’ll be executed or something.

Bonnie tagged me in a photo she put on social media in which I’m four years old. My sister and she back to back with hullahoops around their waists, heads turned in to face the camera, and i’m standing withing the hoop extended out in front of my sibling, gazing off. I don’t have a single picture of myself from this age as my sister stole and or hoarded everything she could get her hands on, only, I strongly imagine, to lose them all or let them rot, water damaged or get seized in some kind of raid and then destroyed. Let’s just say I don’t think anything that might have been considered my own memorabilia would have fared better in her possession that I ever did in her company. But, oh, how the picture makes me love myself, a very strange effect to be sure. I connect so much with the little person in the photo and I feel in so very many ways exactly as I know he does…did. I wrote to Bonnie to say that, looking at a folding table, a sofabed, cabinets and lamps int he room I can still feel the exact texture of every single item as, in our small two bedroom apartment in 1967, every nook and cranny of it’s interior was my playground. That folding table, for instance was a ladder for getting into my imaginery Jupiter 2, the flying saucer on “Lost in Space” my favorite show. Many years later I interviewed Billy Mumy, who played Will Robinson, both being my first, heros, along with a dozen other child stars for Detour magazine. This year Billy beamed in on Facebook to wish me Happy Birthday and it absolutely imparted a thrill.

The last day of Libra, fall a third down—I’m looking forward to the next two. The first two of winter not so much. I would really like to go to the desert or LA for January then Paris for February to mid-March. Really work on the consultancy. But between now and then there is so much fun stuff to do.

I need to go through in/out to flag non Afterglow things, just so we know what sort of time/energy and dollars went into the festival proper. Artist framer printmaker. Have a printmaking studio plus stationers. I could learn framing. I would love to learn framing. Get money from Cambridge Savings. Buy things for people for gifts then sell them in the shop. Two pools of 100 people for the show. The first pool is to gather 10 of 10 to the show, luring them with their gifties. The second pool are those people whom we plan on gifting the book anyway. So we send them the book and we also just let them know about our show. It’s all of a piece. I will sit and draw it, the energy thereof. I like making my own faux modern art pieces dans le style de. I could create a little company called that. I could do a lot of things. I am never at a lack for ideas.

The Assistant List Beyond Creating Wikipedia Page. You just have to be available to the work Write to Tatiana/ Starting Wednesday Blague must start to equal newsletter.

At night I will finish up the Excel program for NEFA and Tour Outreach. Re visit Zodiac with a Z and Zodiac Code. Happiness isn’t a goal, it’s a byproduct—Eleanor Roosevelt. There is gold in them thar hills that’s for shitting sure. I am going to be a miner sixty-niner. I’m hoping for a bit of fun weekend after next. Three weeks nearly still before heading off to London. I will be focusing on my weight for sure. David Vermeuel is a dick fucker. My long lost big brother who became religious as a result of rehab. How fucking cliche. Bet you anything he voted for the lump.

The lump is now going after transpeople. My father used to call me sister that which is just horrible and unthinkable. Living beyond the binary as I’ve done pretty much all my life, I don’t have the benefit, now, of being squirrel friends with my gay male cronies who have each others to kiki with and who can blame them for not prioritizing me; while my straight male friends only sort of stretch so far in understanding who I am, stopping at a kind of reluctant Joey-Chandler embrace, metaphorically speaking of course. People in the community are really going to speak up and act up. this is not going to fly with the fairy folk overall. Ah the fairy folk. The real ones. I used to see them in Goofland down by the creek. Stoned immaculate. I’ve been wanting to use that phrase. I think I’m done.

So I have a nevas on my eye. They don’t know if it is new or has been there. I have to circle back to my old doctor to see if he has some notes written anywhere on it. I’m not that concerned, however I do think it strange if it has never been mentioned in notes in the past. I seriously doubt that I developed in in the course of the last two years. It should be somewhere in notes, dating back to my first visit to the eye doctor. I do not feel like going back to that place…it was like an eye factory for old people and it really freaked me out. But the must unsettling this is that I woke up with an unstettled feeling. So it is that much more unsettling when you get unsettling news when you woke up feeling unsettled it’s like a circular feeling of dread. Sensing something was going to go amiss and it does. But of course it could all be a big nothing.

I am now very much in the process of bringing the books project home while I also get a handle on all the other work that needs happening in the next two weeks and a few days before we set off. We are only going to be in London for three nights which is fine; and chances are we will get to see P+M (I hope) on the Monday, but then again, perhaps not. I need to keep my eye (ha) very much on the prize now and really assert the agenda I need to assert. Tomorrow marks eight weeks out from the show and so that itself must be written before we get on the plane. I have a good outline for achieving that goal and I’ll start working that plan tomorrow evening. We have clients and product/financial meeting and I really will need to pace myself, energy wise.

We will have gone to vote this morning and then to take a drive to Orleans to run some errands and then to shop at Whole Foods. Post the appointment all I’ll want is pasta and so this will be the perfect cheat night. You need one of those once in a while I think. And I can’t think of a better time than to give myself the gift of flour and water. So many corners to turn this year. We are dancing on the head of a pin. The past needs sorting through in the form of every box stored in attics and basements, real and metaphorical. It is something that not only needs doing but what wants doing.

I need to sort out my feelings. And I need to plow through the work that is presently on my plate. This is the tricky part I have state filings to do. I have two more intros to write and then twenty four to edit. It will happen. It was funny that the doctor I saw today was called Murray. It’s a bit of a cosmic joke given the facet we have a Skype now scheduled with people of the same name, one even being a doctor. The turning of this point is painful. As is what can only be tendonitis in my arm. I think the most relaxing thing about this potential turn of events is the sense of relaxation it can provide. I think money is meant to make money. I know that is can happen. It’s funny that I don’t feel the way I thought I would feel. If anything I’m a bit preoccupied with preserving not using. But that is definitely not the way to approach this.

I will try to create a roll out for all that needs to happen and move onto more creative, higher thoughts. Things need to be put in a certain logical order and not become distracted or let things pile up. First on the list is posting this.

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.