Scorpio 16° (Nov 8)

What you never want to do is Google deep vein thrombosis. It’s probably never a good idea to get stoned and do it—can you imagine? Why do I think this is funny. Anyway, I’m at the beginning of a delicious void wherein I can fill to my heart’s desire. Typos happen. This is my open road. My Easy Rider. Just me and the past and the present and the future.

To recap: My writing in ital is that happening in the here and now (when I am posting this Blague, rather late, playing catch up on, well, a good four months of daily material. So I’m on this journey, in this presently italicized time, to bring the Blague up to speed. And the open road to which I refer is that, after posting obout seventeen of one-hundred and-twenty posts I’ve hit a run of about ten-days Blague where there are no notes in the word document where I create the entries before posting them on the website. My launching pad if you will. And easy archive in Word.

So what I’m about to do is refer back to my black diary for 2017 to put in some entrees from that day, which shall not be italicized, while beginning to kill at least two birds with one by writing, anew, things on my list which need writing.

So on this day and the day before (I skipped a diary day yesterday), while in Paris, my diary reads:

No breakfast. Merci for lunch. Bought Esther gift at shop owned by girl on Eurostar we remarked on. Jeweler. Maison Puisson. Walked up those blvd; ragwool chairs outside at a café; cased out Vivant; then to Fragonard museum. Tuilleries, Palais Royale, the market streets to Richer for a drink then Vivant, gois gras mousse, gnocchi.

Then, next day:

No breakfast.Nice walk to  La Laiterie for lunch. Bonne Nouvelle. Hammam. Poulette for dinner: samosas, fish and duck, family of Sardinians next table. Walked all the way back to St. Genevieve.

Typos happen—I don’t have time or an intern to edit.*
Copyright 2017 Wheel Atelier Inc. All Rights Reserved.
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Scorpio 15° (Nov 7)

 We were recently interviewed for an online author website and I started down the following path before realizing I had misinterpreted the question and this wasn’t the answer at all. But here is what it is:

It says in Sextrology, written in 2004, that Gemini man has small hands. The unfortunate American president was born on June 14. Gemini’s chapter is entitled “The Goodfellow” as he, ruled by Mercury, named for the winged trickster, o.g. artist-of-the-deal, street-smart or thug, duality, dualistic, mercurial—slight of hand. There is an obvious nod to Robin Goodfellow, Shakespeare’s Puck who plays messenger to Oberon as Mercury does to Jupiter, all flitting around in tights like Robin Hood—Errol Flynn a Gemini, also played many a swashbuckler. Douglas Fairbanks, Jr., too. Peter Pan, from whose namesake syndrome all Gemini men suffer, also flitted around in green tights. He didn’t want to grow up. The god Mercury never does. He is the eternal adolescent. Peter Pan teaches us to fly. The sign is mutable air and the Mercury symbol recalls an insect, an angel, a demon. The Gemini, Castor & Pollux, hatched from separate eggs, one mortal one divine. Duality and flight. Jack Sparrow. Johnny Depp. And so it goes

Taurus woman, likewise: The Snow White myth is her central story. It’s all about Eve. Ruled by planet Venus, goddess of love and beauty, appearances—Venus’ symbol recallis a mirror. The fixed-earth sign—think of the Garden—Taurus lives in a natural, metaphysical state of grace and innocence and the maiden-flower earth nymph is its core archetype. Snow White is the fairy=tale retelling of the myth of Io, the white heifer, bovine links baked into Taurus. Io, too, gets into a hassle with her queen, “cow-eyed” Hera, the goddess of women, for letting herself be plucked by Hera’s hubby. Zeus. Jump cut to understanding that a prime theme in Taurus woman’s life is negotiating her relationships en route to becoming queen herself. Both the myth and Taurus woman’s life is value themed; cultivation being a garden leitmotif. She is both Hera and Io, trying to wise herself up, without losing guilelessness. The mirror really does have two faces…

Typos happen—I don’t have time or an intern to edit.*
Copyright 2017 Wheel Atelier Inc. All Rights Reserved.
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Scorpio 14° (November 6)

Presently on the train to London and procrasting (or productinating) writing this instead of the horoscope books that beckon. We had another major Scottish breakfast and cabbed it to Waverly station in Edinburgh. Our seats go backwards which is nauseating and there isn’t enough room for me to put my computer on the tray top in front of me and actually type. So I’m on borrowed time sitting in someone else’s seat. Question: Why is there always the young girl who looks just fine and fresh faced who then spends better time of the journey putting on gobs of makeup? And then takes a series of selfies. She is the same girl, typically, who then has some kind of online chat with someone, laughing all the while like some vacant doll. It’s just one brand of crazy of which I am aware. And so many people in the quiet car wear headphones, unaware that they are breathing as heavily and audibly as they are. But I’ve always been a rather cranky passenger.

I managed to have a blast anyway. We switched at King’s Cross for the Eurostar. It is ridiculously convenient that they moved it all to this station which is within seven minutes’ walking distance from our friends house in London where we regularly stay. I cannot wait to get my two-bedroom apartment in Paris so I can return the favor and have all manner of guests. It is my current dream! And I am determined to realize it within this year’s time. I have been championing making Paris our full-time consultancy city, now, for some time; and it should prove to be an easy do in one year’s time. Meanwhile…plenty to put into place between now and then. This trip sealed that deal for me.

We arrived Gare du Nord and queued for a taxi, arriving at Panthéon earlier than actually expected. The owners were nice. I had such great hopes. Dom and Nan arrived and we drank a bottle of red and watched funny videos of Peter Kay (who was at the party in Scotland) then headed to our favorite café-resto in the city. Can’t tell you where that is. Burratta, Rilette de Macquereaux, Huitres, and delicious main courses and more red. Dom and I talked about studies saying how often men should ejaculate which is like a lot. We explored some elaborate masturbation techniques—in conversation only.

Typos happen—I don’t have time or an intern to edit.*
Copyright 2017 Wheel Atelier Inc. All Rights Reserved.
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Scorpio 13° (November 5)

Breakfast at Fortingall and brunch at Jo and Neil’s then back to Edinburgh. Flo was hungover and needed a lie down. We trammed from the airport where we dropped off Aine. Had a quick drink at the Residences then met Flo and Jill for Indian. Couldn’t find the restaurant as the map with directions was misleading. But got a little walk in, in the brisk Scottish air. It was Guy Fawkes whatever that means. We heard fire works but didn’t see any. Took a nap and caught up on some emails. Noticed Chris Stein, who is quite cranky, had put up some sychophantic shots of Jo and Debbie, so being the sychophant that I am, I shared them on social media. Meanwhile, I had caught up with my Instagram, including great shots of ourselves in costume. We really did well, having collected all the elements thereof on our many beach walks back in Wellfleet. The Indian food was rather amazing but I really wasn’t sleepy and only sort of dozed in and out all night.

The truth is I had been partying for days and never quite recovered from the huge party in Scotland. I wouldn’t have admitted it then but I think I felt pretty lousy, but soldiered through because that’s what the die-hard do. I can’t wait to be stationed in Europe such that short-range travel can become more de rigeur and we can see many nearby cities and countries we’ve yet to explore it actually just makes good sense to refocus from a Paris or London.

Typos happen—I don’t have time or an intern to edit.*
Copyright 2017 Wheel Atelier Inc. All Rights Reserved.
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Scorpio 12° (November 4)

Took the train to Edinburgh from King’s Cross yesterday met up with Aine, Flo and Jill at the Edinburgh Residences. Had a wee drink then hopped a cab to the Dog’s for dinner. I didn’t like it nearly as much as I did years ago. Completely unmemorable. A few glasses decent Monserat after an anemic Languedoc. Then back to the hotel, where the three had gin tonics (how?), for another glass of red then bed. Woke up to a full Scottish breakfast then immediately started assembling our costumes. Jill and Flo went to fetch the car—a giant white people carrier—from the airport. We piled in and set off. Aine is a lively chatterbox and kept the conversation going. I tried to fall asleep, determined to take a nap later. Went over the new bridge at the Firth of Forth or whatever it’s called. Arrived Aberfeldy in good time and had lunch at The Three Lemons, as is now tradition. Then a stroll where we found a lovely clothing shop of repurposed tweed and some makeup we needed for the party. Then to the Fortingall which is home to the oldest living tree, if not the oldest living thing, on Earth. I never did sleep. Stuffed myself into formalwear and got into costume. We looked great and ended up finalists—five out of two hundred—in the costume contest. Saw wonderful Jackie and Laurence and really spent a great deal of time with them at the party. LLB challenging as usual but I adore his quipping affection. Was a full moon. The party was of course incredible but slightly unnerving given the dystopian theme. Saw a guy in a mask that only revealed his mouth and I said: Is that Rob? Of course it was Rob Roth which was weird. How do you know Jo, I asked. I’m here with the band he responded. Then of course we know who that must be. Debbie Harry or Blondie. It was Blondie. Had some bonding moments with a few people including Emma Watson who was adorable. All the HP girls got up on stage and danced as Debby was singing. Party was long and fun and slightly squiffy. Discovered the oysters way too late. Didn’t win the costume bit. Don’t remember going to sleep.

Typos happen—I don’t have time or an intern to edit.*
Copyright 2017 Wheel Atelier Inc. All Rights Reserved.
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Scorpio 11° (Nov 3)

Woke at 5 and thought uh-oh. Returned some emails from my phone on the loo. The new PR at Oberon/ART looking to “chat” weeks after our original talk, have still not got the release out on Glowberon. Looked up and saw that the pool opens at 6:30. Figured I’d stay awake. Thank goodness I fell back. Or rather kept falling back having dream vignettes, one in which S. dove into the water which looked a lot like the tidal pools at Hatches Harbor. She didn’t come back up instead a whirlpool appeared we she ought to resurface. I waited and I suppose the panic woke me up. Got nearly all packed and went for a swim and did a hundred lengths which was 720 feet over a mile! Mainly it got me thinking about what I want now from life etc. I will eleaborate on that subject as I strain for ideas in writing new bits of the 2018 astrology books. But let’s see if I can get some ideas down straight away while I’m on the train to Edinburgh:

First, in terms of Bridget Barkan, I need to create a note that goes to all our mutual friends, most of whom will be in New York, which says: Hello! We are presenting Bridget Barkan in less than two weeks time in our (Afterglow Festival) Glowberon series at the American Repertory Theater’s second stage, Oberon, at Harvard in Cambridge, on Thursday, November 16 at 8PM. If you know Bridget then you know how fantastically mind-blowing an artist she is. As most if not all of we New Yorkers know someone in Boston/Cambridge please share this link and urge them to see this phenomenal artist in her debut in that neighboring city to the north!

Then I need to go through and say to all the Boston/Cambridge folk: Hello! If you know anything about our (Afterglow Festival) Glowberon series at the American Repertory Theater’s second stage, Oberon, at Harvard in Cambridge, then you know that we bring the most talented and innovative artists, many of whom you’ve never heard, to town in an attempt to create a home here for these artists, bringing them to your door step. Our curation has been critically and popularly acclaimed. So please do us and yourself a favor and come and see the most talented and innovative Bridget Barkan in her Boston/Cambridge debut in less than two weeks time on Thursday, November 16 at 8PM.

When it comes to our own upcoming show I think it best to tell the folks that were there the year before that: Hello! If you liked our holiday show at Joe’s Pub last year please tell your peoples to come this year—consider it a second night of the show you saw (only with a 365-day break in between!). In truth it will be somewhat different, content-wise, but not too too much. So please come again and bring your friends. And if you send your birth date, time and place to Trip@StarskyandCox.com, we will prepare a nifty cosmic gifty for you. Meanwhile I’m on the quiet train to Edinburgh but certain Brits won’t shut the ef up.

Otherwise we should say to people who haven’t come before: Hello! Please come see our holiday offering this year at Joe’s Pub—Starsky + Cox “Dashing Through” (The Twelve Signs of Christmas)—on Winter Solstice Eve, Wednesday, December 20 at 7PM. Twill be a swellegant show of song and sagacity—”Entertaining Enlightenment”ˇ™ is our motto—and we promise to suffuse you with true seasonal spirit of self-empowerment. We shall be joined on stage by the most talented artists in the biz—our musical director Matt Ray on the baby grand, Danton Boller on upright bass, Tomoko Akaboshi on violin, and Patrick Johnson on percussive filigree and additional vocals. Oh, and if you send your birth date, time and place to Trip@StarskyandCox.com, we will prepare a nifty cosmic gifty for you (not to open until…well whenever you want, really).

Okay, well, that was a bit of that. Now what else came to mind this morning while swimming those hundred lengths? A few things but nothing suited to this Blague.

Typos happen—I don’t have time or an intern to edit.*
Copyright 2017 Wheel Atelier Inc. All Rights Reserved.
Get your HAUTE ASTROLOGY 2018 Weekly Horoscope ebooks by Starsky + Cox

Scorpio 10° (Nov 2)

No swim. Took train from Charring Cross to the O2 Indigo for graduation which was quite moving. Hung out a bit. Had a beer with Joe while the graduants had champagne. Took train to Picadilly and ate lunch at Nobi. Everyone likes Ottolenghi. I feel like it’s the emporers new clothes of food to be honest. Apparently Joe is allergic to some red wine. Not Chiantis. We managed fine. Anyway we went back to hotel but again got the same kind of lost into Bloomsbury—I have this ancient notion that Soho and Covent Garden run west to east not north to south. So we ended up on the Tottencourt Road. When will I learn that lesson? This time I say. Never again. Did a bit of packing then downstairs to meet Joe and Noelle and Pam with Stella. Some guy called Daniel playing the keyboard and guitar in a jazzy manner. He was reallly good. He had a thing called a “harmonizer” I want one of those. Will definitely get one.

At this point, I’m feeling a bit sliding doors-ish. I have a sense of what my life might be with resources being far less an object and the breadth of more alone time and space. Autonomy is an issue for anyone in a couple I realize; but for us it is a hot topic as we live work and do everything together. In some ways, we have been looking forward to school being over so that we can both again “be at the same table” working on our plans and dreams. Yet we both know that too too much togetherness can make each of us tense. It’s important to find a balance and sometimes, ironically, to do that, one must go to extremes. The pendulum can swing for me and now I’m in the loving arms of Self-Love.

Typos happen—I don’t have time or an intern to edit.*
Copyright 2017 Wheel Atelier Inc. All Rights Reserved.
Get your HAUTE ASTROLOGY 2018 Weekly Horoscope ebooks by Starsky + Cox

Scorpio 9° (Nov 1)

Had a swim (forty lengths) and talked with a few fellows I met in the lobby, two of whom were called Jim (a suited guy) and Jon, the Aussie. First there was the tall guy whose name I didn’t quite catch. Had a bloody good time downstairs in the lobby. Then went to Neal’s Yard for a smoked salmon sandwich and a ginger tumeric tea. Then to the Cursed Child Partr One where a row of children behind us ate their Halloween candy, crinkling wrappers all the while. Then we had our dinner break at J. Sheekey. We drank. Pol Roger, I ate dressed crab, we ordered two Chablis, and I had Skate wing for my main. Sublimeness. Then back to Harry where the kids were replaced by their parents who weren’t quite contrite enough. It was lie watching a really good live movie. The best thingabout it was the staging—I think about it as I would a musical, that’s how choreographed it was. I don’t know why all this time I thought it was going to be a serious play. I imagined something Pinteresque—why would I do that. I almost lost my wallet. Was found and had a “scar on it.” I small price to pay for what will turn out to be a pretty lucky season for me, despite my penchant for pressing it.

Typos happen—I don’t have time or an intern to edit.*
Copyright 2017 Wheel Atelier Inc. All Rights Reserved.
Get your HAUTE ASTROLOGY 2018 Weekly Horoscope ebooks by Starsky + Cox

Scorpio 4°

Pumpkin Soup and walk about woods talking about Mel Brooks. Cous Cous. Damon and Gabriela. Champagne. Piano in Suffolk.

(from our show at Joe’s Pub, December 2017)

As egalitarian as that song might be, not one woman sung lead on that original. Just saying. Anyhoo. This next song could only have been written by a Scorpio. For all Libra’s goodness and light, Scorpio is dubious of appearances and must dig below the surface. If Libra is the glaring light of consciousness Scorpio is the deep, dark unconscious and subconsious.

Yes! That’s where Scorpio feels the true riches, spiritual or otherwise, are lodged. Scorpio’s ruler Pluto god of the underworld. It’s Fixed-Water, concentrated, intense also frozen emotion. Ice, crystals, gems a metaphor for the deep meaning and repressed desire wrought by, to be mined from subterranean pressure of the subconscious. Having shifted from poetic Psalms to wise, weighty, Proverbs we’ve left Libra’s gleaming pulpit to delve our both own inner depths and the subversive, hidden elements of society.

We all really must make an effort to uncover what’s going on—in here—and out there. Societies, like people, are only as sick as their secrets and not to go all conspiracy theory on you but there’s lots we don’t know. Pluto in his cloak of invisibility, is also god of riches. How you say: Plutocracy. One Scorpio motto I desire.

Desires are subconscious, seeming to exist in spite of ourselves—gems buried alive in our psyches aching to be exhumed. Scorpio people are best at mining their inner world for meaning. Their brand of spirituality embraces mystery, the unknowable. They are comfortable with uncertainity, something they can teach us all to be. And they keep us guessing. They search themselves for gems of personal truth despite their being guarded by inner demons/dragons, a Scorpio totem of lust, obsession, fear, shame, repressed power to unleash, lest it consume us!

Regenerative power! Scorpio does rules the genitalialalala. Scorpio’s other motto We have, expresses an urge to merge thru sex or psychic possession or joint banking. The 8th house is that of other people’s money, sex, sleep, death: merging with each other, the unconscious, and the infinite. Eight is the lemniscate, symbol of infinity. Creation, destruction. Scorpio’s like hm.

Isong:  Believe In Father Christmas

Scorpio 8°

I believe I went swimming the first morning at the hotel. We met Susanne for lunch at Spryng. That was a three hour lunch in fact. Then we strolled around and looked at Arket. Then we came back to speak to a young book agent. Then we met Sebastian and had drinks and a pow wow. Then we went to Shoreditch for the party to celebrate the launch of Brown’s East and met the head guy of FarFetch and the something lady from Brown’s. Ubered back to Covent Garden. Ate at the Ten Cases…delicious things…will have to be reminded what but surely a ravioli with marrow. Yum.

Now for the Pisces bit

(from our show at Joe’s Pub, December 2017)

Okay, so we’ve arrived at Pisces, ruled by Neptune, the planet of dissolution, named for the god of the sea, the planet of energetic non-material existence. And yes we have gotten to the point where someone has “died” only to show days later sporting some spiffy stigmata.

And that not only did he not die but now neither will anyone else who believeth in him. Which is totally cute. Pisces’ motto is I believe. Belief preceding proof. Pisces rules the feet and before we walk on water we had better believe we can.

Science ultimately proves many a belief.

Like the fact that everything really is non-material, that all is energy in variying densities. And that energy can neither be created nor destroyed. Something the ancient Zodiac seemed to know along. So none of us are really going anywhere. Moot point. Immaterial.

We simply pass over the rainbow bridge through Salome’s seven colored scarves, over the RoyGBiv to Oz or Nirvana, the immaterial universe…..which is right here all the time. Pisces’ opposite facing fish portray the two-way street of birth and death, in limbo or utero. Pisces is Mutable-Water, the primordial soup from whence we came and to which we return.

The 12th house is that of asylum or the asylum. A haven, sanctuary, oblivion, all and nothingness.

And as I said, Jesus was a Pisces. The Jesus Fish. The Pisces fish are the totems of Aphrodite, called Mari, and her son Eros. Mari is Mary whose della robbia blue gown fringed in white is the sea fringed with foam. Eros was at once the oldest of all the gods and yet an eternal babe. Eros is Love. Jesus is Love. Energetic Love. Spiritual Love. That which connects us all. Close your eyes. Imagine, believe, that you are pure energy, letting your notions of matter dissolve. And feel yourself, as molecules, as atoms, as protons, as neutrons, hadrons, quarks, as pure energy, sharing the same primordial soup as the rest of us.

song: Within You Without You

As Matt vamps…Some of you gave us some birth information and we have something for you. Where is X, Y, Z. And we have some little trinkets for everyone too. Thank you all so much for coming. Thank Ania, Jon + Joe’s Pub people. Tip mightily. And please give a big round of applause to Danton Boller, Tomoko Akoboshi, Patrick Johnson Mr. Matt Ray, my personal Juno, The American Baroness, Stella Starsky and Quinn Cox.

encore: Written in the Stars

Typos happen—I don’t have time or an intern to edit.*
Copyright 2017 Wheel Atelier Inc. All Rights Reserved.
Get your HAUTE ASTROLOGY 2018 Weekly Horoscope ebooks by Starsky + Cox