Aquarius 28° (February 16)
Cleaning and dump day. Also Mardi Gras, so one last hoorah? I passed out quite early after a flounder, kale and potato meal, which was yummy admittedly. We put on Woody’s Interiors after giving up on The Sleepover. I will try again tomorrow but it will once again be a wash. I have to remember who I am. I’m not sure I have anything real to say, but that is just the way the mind works. Sometimes we are too close to the words when what we need is proper distance to elucidate. I love that word, and I doubt I’ve ever used it. Oh, to be clever; oh, to be wise. There is little difference. I need to do the thing I do sometimes when I get drunk: obsess over astrological signs. I can do that for the next four months. Actually, all this playing of chicken might ver well be a plea to shorten the span of time I dedicate to this project. I think it will be better that it is short and sweet. I think that will be the most impactful way of getting this book procuced.
The following blocks of text are exceprts from my first year of Blagues, nos. 1601-1605. 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.
Last day of September already. Man I am feeling the passing of time. I didn’t sleep well. Woke at 330 and stayed for about an hour then was up again by before six, waking from a nightmare of sorts. Not a scary nightmare but the frustrated kind. The main thrust was two-fold: First, it was in a sort of real time where I knew the coming day was September 30; and I only had this one day to pack up an entire house of belongings to move or put into storage and not only that but my surplus of stuff was spread out over a few different houses, stored in people’s attics; and I also was aware that I never went to (that same old) history class all last semester and never went to the dean to ask for some kind of incomplete instead of just failing. On top of that I took a part in a play that meant I couldn’t work (or earn money) in the evening. Anyway the entire fever dream was so confused, labyrinthine and frustrating and I just had to wake myself up. Strangely, though I hadn’t had a single thing to drink yesterday, I feel oddly hung over, my sinuses aching with sharp pains in the top of my head that come and go. Not that great a feeling I must say. But there is more to this day than me complaining about my aches and pains. I want to underachieve. I want to write a little and get into reviewing the main project at hand but I don’t want to do much else, but for unpack and already start repacking. We are surely not going to Canada now so I will have a choice about what to do with my time on Saturday. Will be fun to just see what happens that day. I am hoping we won’t lose any money on the trip I’m expecting not to. As it turns out we have a year to rebook our trip so that’s totally cool. Will be so nice to get up to Canada again in the Spring with a bulk of work already under our belt.
Rabbit Rabbit. They managed to be the first things we said today. I’m sick to my stomach though because what began as a calm morning turned into one of sick dread and loathing as someone lost their very expensive personal item in which were recorded many important things. If you’re going to make it a point to buy yourself something of that nature you best be damn sure you don’t lose it. Or that you leave it at your home desk. That is just my opinion on the subject. This is why I don’t spend a lot of money on things like this. It is just so not worth it. I really cannot afford this anxiety today to be honest. It’s just too too much. I am always made to feel like I’m the careless one. Accidents happen I realize that; and it wouldn’t be such a big deal if the level of upset wasn’t so distressing. Anyway things are just things. But I did awake that morning thinking what. I was thinking about how my notebooks were stolen all those many years ago. And I suppose it was some kind of prescience on my part. Anyway now I am totally preoccupied and I don’t want to be. I’m already dealing with so many stresses…anyway it really turned out to be nothing in the end because the missing item wasn’t. It was in the glove compartment of the car. Crisis averted and lesson learned. And an hour of my day down the tubes, but there are far worse things. So now to resume our regularly scheduled programming. Well let me just say first how weird this all is because the morning we awoke in the hotel where it was assumed said item was left: I was overwhelmed with pangs from my twenties when I took all my notebooks to Florent for a full day in the air conditioning reading through all my words and annotating—this will be for a show, this will be for a novel, on and on—the prime notebook of which dated to 1983 in which was inscribed a poem I wrote for S. now in her own hand (as she gave me the note book) with the sign off Grenoble, 1983 (now write!). I haven’t refused the command in any case.
Got up before the crack of dawn , packed as quickly as possible, and hit the road. It was about a three hour journey. We drove directly to High Rise where I had a nice tumeric tea. Off to see Beckett and readings were all over the place. I need to get a handle on it all. Got early check in and went to Sonsie for a salad. Back in hotel doing just a little bit of writing, failing to get very much done. Going to meet downstairs for dinner, which will turn out to be over the top. Lobster, sashimi, skate to name a few dishes. I actually had cocktails which I haven’t had since Italy. Loud people near us. Finally couldn’t hear myself speak and so I asked them to lower their voice. That didn’t go well. But what can you do. Eat a Klondike bar and go to bed. I’m frustrated. I’m tired of blowhards and peace wreckers. I’m tired of the bullying culture. I can’t understand how it is we got to a place where we talk about this loser twenty-four-seven. But that is what he has always wanted that much is for sure. This all makes the world seem devoid of certain spirituality, a dearth of which has already come to define us. I want that feeling again. That feeling. You know the one. Where everything just feels like one big floating yes. I cannot believe authoratarianism has come to our shores. I suppose with McCarthy there was a sense of it. I wonder though if we have encountered anything even remotely like it since.
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.