Libra 28° (October 20)

So now I just have to write some shit. And that’s okay. We had an interesting day. It was a busy morning and I really needed to move around physically and take stock of where all my literal stuff is being, well, stuffed. We have a very clear idea now of our rights in light of the new offenses being lobbed our way and we can’t really put a price tag on the peace of mind good lawyership can bring. As usual, I have come up with two major points of my own (my mother always said I should have been a lawyer and in a way she is right but I’m not not one in the end as I have always directed any legal counsel I’ve had to have in place—happily it has been a rarity in my life. Weird synchronicities are happening. I was just typing about words entering the lexicon and specifically beta blockers when I see a Tweet come through from J.K. on what words entered the lexicon in the year of her birth and beta-blocker was on it. I don’t really understand this kind of phenomenon. But of course I love it. I’m going to do a week’s worth of Blague set up and then get back to my book (the one I’m writing not the one I’m reading).

The following blocks of text are exceprts from my first year of  Blagues, nos. 1016-1020. 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.

Gotham City Improv. It was formerly the Groundlings East based in NYC and then it became it’s own thing. The funny thing about studying there was the fact that Eric whom I met in Grenoble and with whom I shared a room and a bed in Paris, my first time ever there, and who is no longer with us, studied there and became part of the company.

I was really good but, you know, it’s me so: something had to go wrong. I wasn’t liked by the director who was friends with Eric and I suspect Eric threw me under the bus in that setting just as he did with all the kids on our study abroad. You see, Eric wanted to touch me there in that bed that first night in Paris and I said go for it. I didn’t touch him. I just let him do whatever. I don’t think it lasted more than a few minutes. I did. That is to say there was no release involved. Just a dry hand that wasn’t mine grabbing me off for a bit. But boy oh boy did it not end there.

Eric continued to be my new best friend for a couple more days and then, once we made our way to Grenoble, where the school and awaiting hosts family were; he ghosted me; and then I found out through this guy Phil, who had been my next door neighbor freshman year in the dorm, that Eric told him that I came on to him and basically molested him. Yeah. That was fun. I was a combination of not giving a fuck or caring what the other kids said because I was suffused with the notion that I was cooler than everyone anyway plus standing up for myself, vividly, if questioned. One particular questioning came from this guy called Alan, a strapping redhead who fancied himself Eric’s next best friend, mister straight guy, and he went after me for spreading rumors, get this, about Eric. It was in one of those sweeping stone spiral stairwells in a proper residential building in France, I’m guessing eighteenth century, this time on the Place Victor Hugo, in Grenoble where the directrice of our program lived and often hosted us in the first few months before she ghosted us all too.

Eric had had Hodgkins as a kid and he showed the visible signs of having glands removed from his neck which was very skinny. He was very sad and very nervous and very pompous and very funny; I really would have liked to have been friends, but I was a casualty of his own closetness. Any kind of sexual content between me and another guy has never been emotional; and this particular contact was so no big deal. It wasn’t hard for me to separate the funny kid I liked from the sleepy guy in my bed who reached inside my underwear. Big fucking deal. We were nineteen for fuck sake. Anyway…

We tried to be friends again when we collided in New York in the late eighties. It didn’t really happen. And another five or so years passed And then suddenly he went through this catharsis whereby he apologized for everything that had happened those years, a decade now, ago. The weird thing was he had moved to my home town of Wyckoff, New Jersey, living with his dad and his second family. He was jumping into the pool or something and his neck basically broke. His illness had returned. He died soon after that. I didn’t go to the funeral because I had just been through it with another friend who was very close to me and it was too soon and I was too selfish and guarded. Apparently they spoke about how much he cherished the year in Grenoble.


I was watching a Tony Bourdain “Parts Unknown” on CNN. It was an episode about Southern Italy, the heel, and Asia Argento (his now girlfriend, which is great) and he explored the region. First off, of all the couples in the world I’d like to hang with, I put those two at the top of the list along with Charlotte Gainsbourg and her filmmaker husband, Yvan Attal. But I digress. It got me wondering again about my roots, something I do need to explore. In some ways I feel worse than an orphan. I haven’t a clue about a single ancester. None of my four grandparents, only two of whom I grew up with, ever uttered a word about the past. What was wrong with these people. And now, as a childless child, I feel rather disconnected leading in altnerate directions.

I’m guessing for the most part that where my Italian relatives derive from are not the nicest places on the boot. I don’t know that for a fact, but I just have the same icky feeling I had visiting my relatives in Lyndhurst, New Jersey, with their plastic covered furniture and carpets threaded with plastic runners in rooms we weren’t allowed to enter.


Hello. T.K. Moore was kind enough to give me your email address. My wife Stella and I are known as Starsky + Cox and we are leading astrologers and authors of the book Sextrology (HarperCollins 2004). We run a private consultancy of international clients, the majority of whom hail from the arts, entertainment, fashion and design industries.

We have written columns and features for the world’s top publications and websites including Vogue, Glamour, Elle, Allure, Cosmopolitan and The Daily Beast; and we have ourselves been globally featured by publications like The New York Times, Vanity Fair, Time, InStyle, Vogue, Vogue Italia, The Boston Globe, British Vogue. Sextrology has been translated into sixteen foreign editions; and the book was followed by Cosmic Coupling (Crown, 2010) and our self-published yearly series of Haute Astrology ebooks.

We have appeared on numerous satellite and terrestrial radio and television news and entertainment programs and were recurring guests on “Chelsea Lately”. Chelsea Handler, Charlize Theron, Kelly Ripa, Kim Cattrall, Scarlett Johannson, Isaac Mizrahi, Mario Testino, Kate Moss, Sharon Stone, Karl Lagerfeld and Rufus Wainwright have all been outspoken fans. Starsky + Cox have collaborated on events with Marc Jacobs, Barneys New York, Colette Paris, Selfridges and Harvey Nichols in London, Edinburgh and Dublin, and have created content for MAC Cosmetics, Chandelier and Kylie Minogue.

Starsky + Cox have offered their Cosmic Clincs®—working with top PR and event planners—offering on-the-spot astrological readings at private and charitable events. We have also guest-lectured at company events with our “Unlocking the Zodiac Code”, a presentational talk and workshop on the power of the Zodiac, with its twelve signs and houses, as an ancient system for self-realization—”the original twelve-step program” as we say. On top of our private and charitable appearances and lectures, we perform a thought-provoking musical comedy show still on the astrological theme. In New York City we have appeared at Dixon Place, Ars Nova, The Zipper Factory and at Joe’s Pub at the Public Theater, where we perform regularly. As we live part-time in Massachusetts, we have also performed at the American Repertory Theater in Cambridge and at numerous venues, most frequently, in Provincetown.

Could the powers that be, mostly Russia, be so clever as to realize the greatest selling point about putting Trump in power is that he is the most polarizing character in our culture. Our hatred for the noxious oaf is matched by the sick love the near other species, his voters, have for him. It is the extreme degree of polarization possible with this gargoyle that has the greatest effect. Not just sowing division, but a surgical art of doing for which only this ogre can allow.

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.