Taurus 4° (April 23)


I was planning on it but it didn’t happen. I don’t know where I am anymore, in the process or in my devolution. I am terribly saddened by all entropy. I want to play in the sun once again. I have made things more difficult than they need be, I fear. I feel like I can reach out and touch some reality just beyond my grasp. I have an odd spasming in my neck, on the left, it’s likely nothing. It is two days from now and I got behind by indulging in my misery as a result of this itchy situation, plus the keeping caught up, during a pandemic, with the food shopping and preparing, cleaning and general survival. I reworked my schedule but I think I’m going to rework it once again, at least. What I am over doing is lamenting, damned sure. I am making a Cacio e Pepe risotto, once again, based on the popularity of the last one. It will taste perhaps a bit too sourish. The fun and games portion of the spring program is happily coming to an end. I will just keep pushing through as there is no other choice. I should like to listen to the voices in my psyche. I should like to wax poetic. I wonder if Stella saw all of the Sam Cooke documentary which I really liked. I do write to Jackie back and forth, but all is as disjointed as this Blague at present. My psychic ability seems to be at something of a standstill. I’m going to have to go through a difficult time in the next couple of days, and I will need, especially, to monitor the nearly micorscopic world. There will be more shuttles of laundry and boredom and suprises. It will be what it will be, in other words. I will watch The Women on purpose twice and Stage Door accidentally, half of once.

What is on my mind? Making a shift, I would say. There will be something literally necessitating it. There will be accident. But mainly it’s going to come down to me. I thought today about combatting this compounding feeling of weird, bad relationships. And then I thought, well, if my side of the street were as clean as I think than I would have no problem swatting down any kind of shade coming from any one of the frenemies. For instance, should the Drake pass me on the street and say something like I don’t what anything to do with you. My response would be well you’ve made that abundantly clear despite my every attempt at communication and the finding of common ground, not to mention my continual forgiveness, none of which seem to move you toward treating me with even the most minute modicum of respect. Oh, wow that’s a good one. Hmm, I might be onto something here. Let me ask another one, this time of the Arian-from. Hi I really can’t. Well you have made that suddenly and sweepingly obvious in such a way as to suggest that you are both delusional and a hypocrite. But here I would take some fault and might express it thus: I take responsibility for the fact that I (wrongly) assumed you were capable of true friendship and loyalty, while you never were. I really should have known that, because I had seen it dating back to our earliest twenties, but I failed to let myself believe it, even as I was being warned, time and again, of the fact. I’m finding this rather exhilarating. But I don’t have much time left.

I have to write so much in the space of so little now. In real time I have set a metaphorical timer for fifteen minutes. I will also be needing to do chores as I create this—can we call it creation?—I am still so appalled that someone like Anna has never so much as written to offer thanks or to in any way respond to my correspondence, the sharing of some kind of spond etymology not withstanding. We will get our house in Maine and we will have much better times than can any longer be had in so tacky and commercial (on one hand) a place as this one is becoming and as lazy and limited (on the other) as it has always been. There is no artisan lifestyle here such as we crave. People do try but fail as easily. I would look forward to some place off Pine Point in Wellfleet. The girls are being sent their presents which leads me to believe there will be no trip this year which is a downright shame. I’m longing to be together with true friends again. We can’t remain apart forever. But I suppose if places aren’t supporting the likes of boats traveling here and there than it would follow this isn’t the perfect time to set sail. We will do our best. I will make sure to reach out and offer locals there chance to perform the festival. The show must go on, at least I think it shall.

The following blocks of texs are exceprts from my first year of  Blagues, nos. 166-170  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:

There was nothing to include for this past span of five days!

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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