Scorpio 18° (November 10)

Power hypnotizes and power handcuffs. This is such a strange day politically. I am feeling stronger today than I did yesterday. A bit more sleep than the night before. I bit healthier feeling. Leftovers for lunch. Scorpions in a bowl. I don’t think anything will materialize this week, nor should it. I should be the biggest ever grownup in the room. I was perusing pictures of myself from just this past summer and I was seeing the return of my yoga body—also though I love my hair long, it really does overpower my small stature and erode any semblance of facial structure I might pretend to have. The freaking Republicans are enabling the orange toddler keeping a peaceful of transfer of power from happening. I think it’s going to get very ugly and I think Barr has been laying low because he has been plotting behind the scenes. Biden is playing the game, much like I am in my little word with my mini dictator, who has no power here and will soon learn the fact. I am using this as an opportunity to own my power. I have let people take it too much in the past. But I am not longer in that place. I will take a nap today, something I haven’t done in I can’t remember how long. Soon I won’t have to manufacture thoughts for this. They will be flowing through the work at hand. I wrote out a check to Ed Morehouse and put it in a Scorpio card that S. had in her desk. I will be losing the garden hose by this weekend. Thinking ahead it shouldn’t be all that difficult for us to renew stickers and I can always find a way to work that out. You have no idea what I’m talking about. Then again you’re not even reading this.

The following blocks of text are exceprts from my first year of  Blagues, nos. 1116-1120. 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.

Drove up to Boston had hardly any traffic at all; and I dropped Stella on Newbury Street and made my way to Cambridge and parked in the hotel’s underground lot. It was only about 10AM still so I had to wait to get into my room—though not very long. Grabbed a bit of sushi for lunch and a beer and then took a nice nap because, for whatever reason, the insomnia is back. Was pretty well refreshed and was looking forward to meeting our friends Heather and Barry for a pre-show dinner at Waypoint in Cambridge. They are also sponsors of the festival so it was a nice opportunity to take them out and see the show together. Another friend, Gabriela, met us there.

Fauxnique really is one of the most spectacular performers and creatures on the planet. She really is so ridiculously good and unique. She dances on point, she changes looks before your eyes, she dances and lipsynchs and now sings so amazingly beautifull; and on top of everything else she is such a good person and such a good friend. We went back to Waypoint and I think the waitress was a little tipsy. Anyway, it felt a little like that. She was pretty effusive. It really was oodles of fun.

At some point this will all be a memory and I won’t have to worry about the quality of my content. Neither should I . All those years ago, in Nice, walking around, spending whole days on my own, having fun, going the rocky beach, wearing practically nothing, drinking beers from a man who passed by, making friendly connections. Going to dinner with a stranger, a missed connection I recall. I was too tired—remember when you were in your twenties and when you were tired you couldn’t push through—and I couldn’t show up for what would have been perhaps a date. Oh, well. Everything happens for a reason. That was Marc who worked at the Pas de Pot. I wonder if it’s still there. Or, indeed, if he still is. So many years of disease in between.

I don’t remember my Swedish friend’s name who was going to write me notes and postcard which he said he’d sign with a frog drawing, his signature stamp. Nothing ever came. No he’s just a no-color haircut, a vague shape in my memory. Square teeth. Flat stomach. That’s all I can, or probably should, recall.


Stella had appointments back on Newbury Street and I had a lazy morning and an early ridiculously fattening lunch and beer. I don’t know what’s wrong with me lately but I’m so gluttonous. I think it’s like denial that summer is basically here and I’m supposed to be a certain weight? Like I’m piling on a bunch of lbs as a sort of act of defiance. I have a feeling that all this chowing down is going to come back to bite me right in the giant belly. Needless to say, I was the passenger in the car today and was happy to arrive at Nan C.’s. It was just she and Vie and we had a blast. B. was away and he’s this great beer afficianando, now, and gets deliveries of craft beers, of which I never partake…but now, being on this beer binge, I had one of his tall cans. Honestly it made me more high than drunk and that was all I had all night long if you can believe it. I can’t.

We all four of us watched The Sound of Music and Vie had seen it before. Last summer I did a solo rendition of So Long, Farewell, sort of playing all the children at once, to entertain her when we were in Islesboro. I do love that house in Islesboro I must say. But even if they were to get it again from their friend (Kirstie Alley) we wouldn’t be able to go because we are off to Alaska and British Columbia. I am so super psyched about that you’ve no idea. Anyway we watched the movie and editorialized to our hearts’ content; and then I did a bit of a comedy act with my partner Siri, asking her all sorts of questions.

I asked her…Hey Siri, what color of your eyes? To which she responded: Quinn, I don’t have eyes, but if I did I’d be rolling them.

Went to Andover which is a magical place (not). It has that creepy sleepy nowhere Massachusetts town feeling. But there’s a Whole Foods of course, and we were making dinner for the larger arriving family. Chickens, Caesar, Rice, Veg. Nothing fancy. Of course we forgot a cake for S.’s mother because we don’t eat cake and never think in terms of cake—but we did buy two cases of wine for ourselves because we’re selfless.

It was a fairly easy day until a sudden arrival sent me down a spiral. I have a lot of trauma surrounding certain individuals and this guy is one of them. He doesn’t always trigger me—if I’m prepared—but nobody gave me a heads up so I reacted viscerally. But I managed to keep it together…ish.

The conversation turned toward Israel. Why? As we know it’s not an easy conversation to have but the number of Palestinians killed at the border these last few days might at least loosen the expected, usual rhetoric, but no. The combination of those organic reds I bought and the fatigue and a certain know it all tone and I was this side of losing it, literally, for argument’s sake. Oh well.

The elders are always fun. They are the best part in fact. They say really funny things that the only pretend have been blurted out innocently. Yeah. No.

These sorts of buildings, all grey and beige and greige, and the little-boxes-on-the-hillside feel just adds a generic flavor to the already suburban spookiness of the environment. Everybody is so close. All the “backyards” merge; and yet there is none of that neighborhood feel one had growing up in the suburbs in the seventies when kids were just let loose to wander and live or die. Even in Jersey City, before the great white witch exodus of 1972, we just went outside and came back when we felt that sinking feeling in our stomach that the sun was already setting.

Now it’s a world of play dates and kids otherwise living the way they did in and around Park Avenue, always; only now that isolated and by-appointment-only funtime is everywhere throughout the land. I suppose it’s worth not losing children to kidnappers and the like—no more milk cartoons out there are there? Then again…maybe sacrificing a few tots to the larger sense of freedom wasn’t so bad. I’m kidding; oh shut the ef up.


The topic is gluten a little bit to much for my taste today, but I smile and nod and agree we should try to back off it. I’ve been in this suburban land three days and now I must head to the North Shore as we have a meeting today at Endicott College. I worked a super good deal for a hotel we stayed in a year or so ago in Salem—the Merchant. It’s near the historic district and we love walking around and seeing the houses. It really is a best kept secret. As are some of the restaurants and surely the museum, which we’ll hit tomorrow morning. We tried to do something other than the obvious for lunch but realized we shouldn’t avoid it. So we went to Live Alive or whatever the place is called.

After buying some tarot cards and books at the Haus Witch we went for a number of strolls, taking breaks, back at the hotel in between, before setting off north to Beverly. It wasn’t very far at all. Something about the North Shore reminds me a bit of New Jersey and the area around Cannes at the same time. And the campus at Endicott was nice. We received a grant to produce a tour for Brian King and his band—of the show that premiered at Afterglow many moons ago. The meeting went well—the person at Endicott was really nice—and it was something quite unusual for me to do. I am not much of a visitor or outreach person despite the fact I produce and fundraise. That sounds ironic even to me.

The fact is I stay probably too much in my lane. In truth it’s all I have bandwidth to do. If anything I’m trying to figure out ways to limit multitasking while still hitting all my marks. I think I’m getting good at it. Anyway the conversation veered a bit and got a little cart before horse and by the end I felt like I was being tasked to do things I don’t want to do. Like share in Google chat. I share what I want when I want; but not in Google chat. I think what I learned today is that I am not only not a team player but I so don’t want to be. I felt a bit ambushed I must add, as the conversation was all about what we can do for the school, but I bided my time and let moments pass. Then, on leaving, Brian said something like I’m not sure we can do certain stuff with schools. (Which turned out to be true.) Now you tell me.

Anyway, S. was surprised that I wasn’t walking on air because on the surface the meeting seemed so positive, which it mostly was; but you know how certain people (Taurus people) assert their agenda through passivity, letting scenarios they’ve arranged play out, pretending guilelessness, well….I’m actually not sure Brian did this because he really does seem guileless and he is one of the kindest people I know. Still it’s sort of like letting other people hammer out whatever the issues might be. “I’m too important to be captured.” I wonder if anybody knows where that comes from. Well I’m not going to tell you.

Anyway, my mind was already arranging words into phrases to get the horse in front of the cart where it belong. But mainly I was thinking about food and wine (what else is new). We had plans to go to our favorite restaurant in Salem (and really the only one we know), this little Italian place (with a Serbian? chef…who used to work in Boston) called Firenze. The owner was in Seattle and it was a bit amateur night on the service; still we managed to find a decent wine and we had pastas for primi and a whole sea bass, kicking it old school. It was better than okay.

Our room was on the top floor of the hotel and was considered a suite; but it didn’t have any windows, just a skylite. But it had a giant soaking tub I was too tired to use until the morning.

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.