Taurus 16° (May 5)


We had a lovely dinner last evening of roasted cauliflower steaks with sautéed brussel sprouts and turkey bacon with a side of quinoa with scallion and herbs. Ended up watching a lovely documentary called A Secret Love about this lesbian couple go get married in their late eighties after nearly seventy years together. I slept okay but not great. My dreams are so dark and fraught with guilt which I must address. I think it’s the isolation surfacing some stuff. I felt the urge to write someone with whom it ended badly just to sweep something off my side of the street. We have a full day with clients today and I want to be really present, so I will work on that. I am prepping a roasted red, yellow and orange pepper soup for lunch and dinner with be easy, leftover chicken and an arugula salad. Easy peasy. I may brave the shops and get some celery in at least. I’m none too worried about it. I have a marathon day tomorrow, reading and editing about eight or nine books which means about ten hours of reading, which can be relaxing if I let it, and then Thursday and Friday I will finish up with the branding project and then it is on to all new things for the rest of the year. I still have to figure out if there is going to be a festival this year or not. I suppose I need to reach out and touch the venue once again. I did that and put another word into the ferry service and also contacted the hotel. It is just a matter now of writing the sponsors. The whole thing makes me feel out of body, actually. I am going to speak to my two clients and then knock off early. I am feeling very locked up physically and we will go for a long-ish beach walk on the bayside of Truro later. So lucky to be able to do such things. I fear for what is going to happen here in terms of this virus. Moment to moment is the only way to proceed.

Watched this documentary of Darrell Hammond. Jeejshush. The guy went through terrible trauma in his life, so much so that it triggered my own just watching it. It’s called Cracked Up and I do highly recommend it. I made some mashed celeriac with scallion to go with dinner an rejigged the pantry to eek out as many meals in advance of shopping on Friday. I managed to get us through a good two weeks, making delicious dishes in the process. I will be focusing on my comedy and poetry in equal measure for the next couple of weeks. The rest is gravy. I want gravy now. Dammit. I did manage to score something real and it’s been quite calming to say the least. It feels rather cold, still; and my energy is at a minimum. I will get to where I’m going. I get excited when I think about making art in the basement and going through all the belongings; we just need to continue to feel safe and proceed accordingly. As we cannot truly connect with others in real time, our defenses are down and we seem to be reaching out more to even more peripheral characters than usual. With autocorrect I don’t need to use my brain figuring out what might or might not be typos any more. I scheduled a primary care appointment. I was unable to reschedule I certain procedure I’m meant to have. I did speak with the lovely ferry lady and we shall see what we shall see. I truly want to dissolve more into this experience. If I have to put up with it I might as well totally surrender. I need to get some serious food in the house on this trip. Maybe enough to last three weeks this time. June should be sort of okay. I don’t know what to expect come July. There must be some clever way to cope with this season here in tourist land.

The following blocks of texs are exceprts from my first year of  Blagues, nos. 226-230  I am reading through all my Blagues, five per day, and posting some samples here. Now, in my sixth year of writing this Blague, but the time I get to my seventh, I will have through all the daily Blagues of my first five years. If that’s confusing I apologize:

We have just returned from a reunion of sorts pinioned to a belated birthday party thrown by a dear friend of ours who ended up becoming the most popular children’s book writer of all time. The year was 1985 and Stella and I had moved back to France, having studied there just two years before—we have been traveling in Europe this past five weeks during which time I actually saw my “French family” whom S and I hadn’t seen since we waved goodbye to them in the Spring of 1984 (hand over mumbling mouth) years ago. A Dutch friend who had been with us that junior year abroad in Grenoble was in Paris in 1985 when we moved back to France. She was staying with this German girl called Susanne and we immediately became fast friends with her and around us formed a little rag-tag group of would-bes with whom we remained tight all these many years. In addition to the one of us who went on to write those books, Susanne became the fashion director of Selfridges and Harrods, our friend Jaqueline (whose boyfriend Laurence visited every other weekend) became the Llewelyn-Bowens who are household names in Britain and some of us weren’t so lucky to survive until this birthday cum wee reuninon in Scotland we attended this past weekend. So you will understand my now jaded surprise at today’s oracle being: A Fellowship Supper Reunites Old Comrades.

We are staying with our dearest friends in the world, whom we know through connection with the aforementioned primary fellowship. Though our dearest friends all seem to live in the UK or Europe, we don’t have the benefit of constancy and must make concerted effort to keep the fires of friendship burning. And yet not: as, though all relationships (other than parent to child) must be conditional, there is a decidedly unconditional element to these particular relationships. Nobody is perfect nor should they get away with untoward behavior or attitudes—there are differences in political and religious and social ideology which are nonetheless easily transcended through the mutual bond. I think the shadow side of this particular dynamic is that of cliques or, in the extreme, cults. I know a lot of cliqueish Scorpio people—that is certain. Indeed, as a personality type, people of the sign do stick to a certain tribe. It’s where we see the emotionality that they might otherwise mask. Fitting that this symbol is ruled by Cancer in a twelve-fold sequence as that sign deals with the family you come from and the one you create for yourself. And, of course, it’s hinged on nurture and emotionality and one’s private life. Shared experience, even if brief, that happens at a particular time in ones life, or is of such import, is the glue that sticks us together and we do become a family centered around that experience. Like trauma, we might not know the full import of the experience as it is being impressed on our root (sub) consciousness—it’s only over time do we realize how pivotal it is.

To view the original Sabian Symbol themed 2015 Cosmic Blague corresponding to this day: Flashback! The degree pointof 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!
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