Capricorn 29° (January 19)
We enter the sign of Aquarius today at 3:39 and change. And change should be the operative word. And we have a favorite client today which is lovely. It is the last moment that we have some kind of excuse for things to suck. Tomorrow, we will come to realize, we will have the same arguments and issues and all sorts of probably new problems. I will write to all my friends tomorrow “phew” and few will write back. My one conservative UK friend will tell me I am safe now. Okay. Sure. I reply something like well we are at the beginning of becoming safer. I have been unsure of the state of his soul. Does he pretend to be a conservative because he works and has been paid for thirty years quite handsomely for doing so; or are his stories about Boris really sincere. I went to a gala once, invited by a famous friend, at Hampton Court; it was when Brown was prime minister, and that troll Boris tried to make intimate-like with my host and Sarah Brown, who plopped herself down next to me and my friend, for a quick moment, which triggered the amazing, funny, loving Peter Kay, across from me at the big round table to shout, really loudly!, “oh, fuck off Boris.” My love for Peter would grow day by day were it not for that moment, but it certainly did all the more jump suddenly as a result.
The trick about writing the book that I am currently writing: Astrology is at once archetypal, analogous and metaphorical, but it is likewise metaphysical, actual and actionable, providing a certain behind the scenes pass to the workings of the imagined universe, and we qualify it, purposefully, as such. Oh fuck it I will say: The whole point of having us in those positions was because you needed us to do the actual work, because you were going to be en Suisse and your mind would be elsewhere in any case; the problem is you would swoop in one day a week and overcompensate, pretending to be in charge; and one such day you reversed a decision I had made in your absence—not being a pussy I called you on it that day and you reverted to my decision. But then you again capitulated without my knowledge. That alone was an offense. But what you probably have deluded yourself for which to not take responsibility is the fact that this all led to the whole court case that absorbed my life for almost a year. And the point is it’s the same thing. You have no peripheral vision…you just see what you need to see and the rest of reality on the sidelines of your self-purposed myopia are just blurs. You caused us great harm as a result of pretending to create us good. And I transcended that. I remained your friend. Stupid me. Because you are a menace and you will always be one. You are reckless with others. You quietly wreak havoc on people’s lives and I’m not longer interested in being associated with you. Oh and it occurred to me after the fact that you did this back in the day at TP also—you leave people in the lurch and talk out of both sides of your mouth and are the most disloyal of people. I really kind of loathe you lady. Ah that felt amazing.
The following blocks of text are exceprts from my first year of Blagues, nos. 1466-1470. 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 going to write for exactly ten minutes because I have to catch a train today from NYC back to Boston, well Dedham, actually where we’ve parked our car. All I can think about is lying down and watching RuPaul, Game of Thrones and Barry. We will likely pick up a piece of fish, an avocado and a box of salad and that will be dinner. These last several days in New York have been exhilirating and exhausting in equal measure. We are so grateful to have stayed mainly at our friends’ house, though we did stay at the Jane Hotel last night, which was very quiet, and from where I am currently writing this. Laurie Litchford’s name was really Jane. I just realized that. Oh well. Anyway…yesterday morning as we were readying to head to Dover Street Market to meet A., I was saying to S. that, if we decide to work with Barneys New York again, I forgot/reminded myself that we not only did product events with their stores in NYC and LA before but we launched our first book with them, Simon Doonan designer the windows and al that. Simon also endorsed the book on it’s back jacket. We walked in the pouring rain from Washington Street to Thirtieth and Lex and sat down at Rose’s Bakery and I blurted all this out to A. No sooner had I done so when Jonathan Adler (Simon Doonan’s husband) walked in with a friend! It keeps happening folks! The synchronicities! Anyway we had a cheery reunion and Jonathan’s mot du jour is now genteel. Last time we saw Jonathan was probably after we came back from working at Wallpaper* in London when we went down to his studio and he met us barefoot covered in clay, fresh from his potter’s wheel. (I always wondered if that wasn’t a little staged, and I actually hope it was because it was an innocent and vivid display. And anyway Jonathan is a Leo so he likes to be found in process, like Tom Sawyer white washing a fence.) At that time his mot du jour was cute. Like: “Isn’t American cute?” Which is what he actually said to us about our impressions on being back from the UK. To this day we say “isn’t America cute?”, a lot, but nowadays, mostly, ironically, cuz shit is anything than cute lately.
After lunch—spicey lentil soup and panisse with tapenade—we headed to the Park Avenue Armory for the TEFAF show. The first thing I thought was it was a fancy version of any kind of fair, the last one I attended being the LA Book Fair in 2013 which is where I last saw Jack Pierson. First we saw Richard Green had a booth with Pissaros and Renoirs. We know him through his wife and her twin sister so we said hello. A. knew the folks at Hemmerle. We were already saying how everything was genteel, picking up on Adler’s expression in a joking way of bonding as one does when one is arrested at the age of (a) fourteen (year-old girl), as we all are. And then who did we behold but, yep, Jack Pierson, looking rather shaky and delicate, being led around by a fellow we believe to be his steady boyfriend. I took the opportunity to break the five year old ice and I followed and said: Jack. He turned around not displeased to see me. We each asked if the other was well with our own special intent. And we both said yes very and that was that. I think I touched his face spontaneously. We will never be the close friends that we were; and obviously something has altered in his life. I can only say I truly hope he is well and just had a sprained ankle or something and I send him every amount of love and peace.
We breezed through Barneys then headed downtown to grab our stuff from R&R’s and headed over to check in at the Jane Street Hotel. The place is creepy but it was fine for one night. R. was already there at a memorial service in the ballroom and the other R. was heading over to meet us as we left the hotel. We tried getting into via Carota but ended up at Buvette. We had a lovely liquid trip through Bandol and conversation was lively and mostly in output mode. We went back to R&R’s and had a little night cap and I ticked the dog’s tummy for an hour on end. The television in the room didn’t work so we planned to get a little off the hotel price; this morning we had a couple of coffees in the restaurant off the lobby which used to be Gitane which was great and now is something called Old Rose which is not. We got ourselves some Sweet Greens and headed up to Penn Station. In the cab I was thinking I should contact Caitlin who lives in Portland as I’ll be there next week. I have yet to read her book but I have the pamplet for the book on me. I get to the station and open my email and I have a note from her sending me a link to a comedian who does bits about the star signs. Another synchronicity. We eat our lunch in the station and then get in line for the train, herded by the porter that performs a comedy act of his own, and has been doing so for decades. In line behind us a woman says “you look so familiar to me” to S. We zero in on the fact that she is Maud, a jewelry designer and one time client who lives on Beacon Hill. Another sign that we are threading through and all is a cosmic go. And now here I am on the Acela. S.’s seat doesn’t work. The tray table won’t come up and her seat won’t recline. She doesn’t care but I’m beside myself as I often am over things like this. It drives me absolutely bonkers. And now I’m going to get back to other work!
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.