Virgo 11° (September 2)

Full moon and Stella off to Cambridge. Nearly the second she left the a.h. Farmer swooped in to cut the grass where the car is usually parked. How does he know when we are here or not. And now he is outside purposefully speaking really loudly. I’m camped out in the dining room I put on some Beck to drown him out because I know he’s baiting me and I’m not giving in. I might be paranoid but I can tell from his body language that he is acting out the scene he played here, albeit a revisionist version. More than ever I’m convinced we are being surveilled in some way.

The following blocks of text are exceprts from my first year of  Blagues, nos. 781-785. 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. 

Something about being post this last Full Moon has made me feel slightly less, I shouldn’t say pessimistic, but: pessimistic. It’s so unusual for me to feel that things are going down tubes even though all you hear leads me to believe that.

We took our morning constitutional today in Wellfleet which takes us along the pier and there was a boat that read, on the stern, where the boat’s name typically is: Trump 2020. There was nobody around that looked like they might take ownership, inspired under our breath expletives as we strolled by. Then walking back up into town this suv came barreling too fast down the road and, on its bow it read: Trump 2020 and it was filled with loud, ham-faced bully folk, all men. Sorry you have small dicks.

It says in our book Sextrology that Geminis have small hands. We wrote that way before president lump lumbered into office. Why are we struggling to connect the dots? I ask the media. Can’t someone go out on a limb and say the lump isn’t concerned with Russian hacking our election because they were part of it? Can’t someone say that the lump’s celebritory tone in the oval office with the Russian diplomats was a bit of a confab of fascism?

=====================================

So I was saying in the last post how pessimistic I was prior to the Full Moon, meaning, now, on the other side of it I feel more expansive and directive at the same time. I feel like cutting my losses and lowering some bars. I’m an overachiever by nature and have carved out a decent career for myself which I would like to make decenter. These past seven, nearly eight years I’ve been planning and then presenting live performance festivals and series and one off productions all under the umbrella of a non-profit festival dedicated to progressing and proliferating new and important stage artists, mainly solo ones, from solo playwrights to the most uncategorical of performance artists, with neo cabaret and alt comedy and sketch and opera and spoken word and hip hop and electronica and dance and high drag and interpretative dance and everything in between.

It’s a tough road to hoe, particularly non-profit, and each year I try to produce all aspects, including the fundraising, myself. I would love to hire someone to help but I’m never able to afford anyone in the moment and then it would take time to teach someone, so ultimately I’ll have to make some kind of manual, some kind of playbook, by which to execute this. Every year is different of course. And this year brings new challenges. We are in a different space which is absolutely fantastic. And I’ve started a capsule festival too for Cambridge and my costs are rather through the roof at present and yet I persevere. And still I have been more overwhelmed than in the past . Much of that feeling has been due not only to the giant list of busy work and technical work I need to exact, it’s also the writing of (at least) a dozen different missives that will be disseminated in myriad directions, for which I think I need to make a list, because suddenly my scope has widened in a way that was threatening to spread me too thin. So I’ve decided to devise a questionnaire, asking myself some pointed questions, and then, at least, in repsonding to the questionnaire as if someone else presented it to me, I might be able to get some thoughts on various “pieces of paper” that I can then shape and send to the pockets of people that need to receive them.

You’ll see what I mean when you read the next Blague.

=======================================

One might want to read the previous Blague to understand what’s happening here. Bascially, its me trying to prod myself to write a dozen or so documents that I need to send out to varying populations of peoples, groups and individuals. (Information is so Gemini!)

Question No. 1: Why do you feel that realtors in Provincetown owe a special debt of gratitutde’s to non-profits and what simple things would you say to a room full of them or send them in an email which might inspire them to give to your non-profit.

Question No. 2: What do you think might be the most effective words you could muster to send to a dozen Boston/Cambridge busineses (who don’t know you) to convince them to make a donation, to (becoming a Missionary Sponsor of) the new Glow Festival you’re starting in just five weeks time?

Question No. 3: The wharf in Provincetown has been sold to Ann and Chuck Lagasse who also spruced up Boston and Newburyports harbors. If you could reach them what would you say to them which might convince them to contribute to your non-profit cause? Would what you say differ from what you might send to Ryan Murphy, in writing or if you were together at a dinner party?

Question No. 4: What might you say to Boston- and Cambridge-based individuals to convince them to part with $100 donation so to become a Glow Sparkler and receive a discount on all this new festival’s. What incentives and perks might you offer them?

Question No. 5: In considering social media, what do you think would make the best strategy overall and which social media outlets would you use. Do you have an original ideas on how to create interest in the artists you’re presenting and engage other individuals and businesses in the area and to liaise with other arts organizations and generate substantial buzz?

Question No. 6: If you were asked to put a newsletter together in one day what stories would you feature for this new year ahead?

Question No. 7: What is the current status of your press. Are there journalists and editors who need to hear from  you and what should they know. Are you seeking coverage in as many places as you can?

Question No. 8: What is the mission of the Afterglow Festival and how does it differ from that of the Glow Festival and even the Glowberon series for that matter.

Question No. 9. What are your thoughts on generating “concierge” information  for both festival’s websites. Do you need to make any changes to the website, hire any designers, so forth.

Question No. 10: Do you have all the right print and electronic collateral that you need? Do you need to review with the venues what printed materials might still be effective and what exactly is needed when.

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

Virgo 10° (September 1)

I do love Aries people. I was going to say I do love my Aries friends but I don’t have any. Okay that’s not true but I find I have very “important” Aries relationships but I can’t say I have contant Aries companions. I have dear, close Aries friends. Aries people occupy key spots in my heart. I just don’t hang around with Aries people much or rather they don’t hang around with me. All my Aries bonds have been fast and furious for the most part. That is to say that they were established quickly, in a few days and, though I might consider a great many Aries folk loving fixtures in my life, I mainly experience them from afar. Proximity seems to be counterproductive to our getting along. I seem to be very quickly turned into audience and I’m not all that good at nodding or screwing up my face into a scrunch of affectionate validation.

Seriously, I suggest to anyone reading this to use this next month ahead to align with the energetic estate of the sign of the Ram. The Golden Fleece was stolen by Jason from a grove sacred to the god Ares (Mars). The whole metaphor of that quest is one of self-propulsion (if not fulfillment). Aries energy is headstrong, initiatory, ignitive, adrenal, muscular. It isn’t necessarily about follow-through. It’s about intention, which should be pure. Who are you? What is your purpose? For what should you quest? These are Aries questions. If the answers are dunno, dunno and bagel with a schmear, you have some work to do. The work mightn’t be easy but it is basic. That is to say, you just have to get your head screwed on properly and try not to deviate from what you see as your prime objective.

Aries people are the best at this. Which is why they don’t seem to much take into account what you’re doing. They approach life (and love, too) like a battering Ram. But I love that about them, the little lambs. Mary had a little one. You do realize that nursery rhyme is all about Jesus right? The lamb.  Easter. It falls into the sign of Aries. Pass the mint jelly.

An aside from a 2017 entrée entitled Lonely Planet
Cheery subject I know but I find this very much to be in keeping with the sign of Aries which hits home the fact that, when it comes to it, we fly solo. What has made this realization more poignant in recent years was the necessary loss of certain bonds which didn’t serve me and the conscious decision, regarding other friendships, to stop doing all the work—always being the one to reach out—to see just who would or wouldn’t make the effort to nurture a relationship.  Sadly, more often than not, I heard crickets.

An aside from a 2017 entrée entitled Lonely Planet
Maybe you too have a bunch of new things you’re putting into works. Great. Don’t think about completion only focus on the start. Aries loves the beginning of things. This is your time to frame and outline all the myriad things you’d like to do, rather than to go to deep into any one thing. Surely there are existing projects you’re already deep into. But don’t try to rush the works on something newly started.

As I write this I’ve taken a quick break from sorting through all the myriad to-do lists on paper and saved on my computer, pasting what I can onto my four walls like a detective piecing together envidence on how to solve a crime. It’s kind of fun to move slightly beyond the process of those myraid to-dos, but not quite yet into the doing. It creates a multiplicity of bite size tasks that an overactive mind like myself can be overwhelmed by when the flood  my mind en masse. When that happens I typically take my drug of choice—Netflix—and try to clear my crowded noggin.

I find printing out all the electronic lists, making them physical, is in keeping with Aries love of the actual. Those daffodils outside aren’t rushing through their process of blooming. Typically waiting for Taurus, the estate of the nymphs and flower gods, to enjoy that full expression. We’re not at that stage. It’s no easy task for any shoot to work it’s way through frozen soil and stones to pop out head first. Success of this sort (is there any other?) is achieved by degrees. And we’re only seven degrees into the first sign of Aries. So slow it down! Being throrough is the accumlation of baby steps.

Anywig, I tend not to ask for help (which can be it’s own “issue). And I will admit that I have waxed martyry in my day, but mostly not. I just find it so much easier to d.i.y.. Also desired positive results tend to taste all the sweeter. The man who wrote philosophically on this subject, most notably, is a Gemini not an Aries (I’ll let you guess who that is). But energetically speaking the notion is Arien. Self-reliance is most selfless. Just imagine if we embodied this principle. Nobody would have to pick up after your tweets.

So what is self-reliance at this particular instant in history? It’s hard to say. I suppose it’s not letting the government oppress you or the news of the oppression of the government depress you. But self-reliance isn’t escapism either (not even the good Pisces brand of seeking soul-asylum). Self-reliance is being a warrior in keeping with Aries’ martial archetypes. Self-reliance is health and fitness and personal well-being. Self-reliance is taking just what you need and no more as to create a deficit for others. Self-reliance is, in fact, taking a stand for those who can’t do so for themselves. Never do we have so strong a sense of self as when we are warriors for the freedom and happiness of all sentient beings.

The first sign of Aries is all about form (Taurus, which follows Aries, is about content). You can’t have the latter without the former. Form, former. Oh never mind.

The following blocks of text are exceprts from my first year of  Blagues, nos. 776-780. 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. 

The first gay bay I ever went to was the Odyssey in Asbury Park. There was a sort of gay beach in Belmar where I lived with my parents, or, rather, my mother, summers. And being a bicurious fourteen year old who had already had some, mostly unwanted experience, I would let myself stroll to the north end of town where that beach was, close to the bridge to Avon-By-The-Sea. While I was strolling the length of Belmar, by the water, as I did pretty much daily, I lingered a little longer at the so-called gay beach and sat on the “cliff” that was made by the recent high tide.

It didn’t take long for someone to swoop down on this fourteen-year-old in the form of someone called Simon who was, yes you guessed it, a seminary student. He was eighteen or nineteen so of drinking age in New Jersey at the time. He invited me back to his “blanket”. I went, we chatted. Two other guys, Todd and Sean, joined us. I was so young that eighteen year olds looked like grown men to me.

Simon’s parents (and he), it turned out, lived two blocks from me. I have spoken before about the fact that my father was pretty much absent in summer, staying in our house up north in Wyckoff. My mother was a Pisces so she had no clue what I was up to; and besides, she drank and watched a lot of tv, eating pretzels or Snickers bars or Breyers vanilla ice cream, while stroking her twenty-five pound cat, Kerry, who, apparently, was also Irish.

Simon took me to play racketball once. I think it was an attempt at some semblance of heteronormative male frienship. Then he took me to a gay bar, The Odyssey, which was not just any kind of gay bar I realize now in retrospect. I would go the the Odyssey again and again, mostly ironically, with my fellow new-wavey straight and probably not so straight friends for years after. But at this time, in the late seventies, the new wave hadn’t quite hit. It was deep disco still and this place freaked me out. I remember seeing men kiss for the first time ever when I was at the Odyssey. I was suffused with excitement and revulsion. Howard, the famous eighteen year old bartender wore tons of turquoise. He looked like he should be on Eight is Enough. He wore v-neck three tone cotton short sleeve shirts with big collars. Just like Grant Goodeve and Willy Ames.

Todd and Sean showed up that first night. Nothing untoward happened. I was very clear that I liked girls (too?) and I approached being there, a place that came to be something of a home, as an anthropological study. But the truth was I was intrigued and I belonged there as much as anybody. As much as the seriously butch men (and women) dressed in leather playing pool in the part of the club when you first walked in. As much as any man occupying a stool and drinking their Cape Codders or Budweisers or Seabreezes making a ritual experience out of drinking and hopefully hooking up. As much as the drag queens—the best I ever saw was called Michael and she set up an entire dressing room table and did a Dreamgirls lipsynch to And I Am Telling You I’m Not Going that still gives me chills to think about—she would swipe all her paraphenalia off the fake dressing room vanity. As much as much as much.

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

Virgo 9° (August 31)

Monday and still feeling uneasy in these parts. We did get to beach for a miles long walk along the water. People are playing fast and loose. Friends are visiting Provincetown but not a peep from them and I’m not making any requisite moves. Wrote nearly five pages today and I will try to double that tomorrow. It is feeling in some ways easier though I know there will be good days and bad days; I was pretty stuck over the weekend.  I have some notes on the Aries individuals that I’m reviewing and I will simply post it here. It is pretty random stuff so you’re on your own wading through it.

Aries Man most cut and dry. Aries woman most cut and run.

They are the realists. He is architect framer. Should always work at things where its about initiation. 

Aries is about embodiment. A lesson in learning solitude (for the man?).

Mars is god of blood

Taurus man page 52 quiescent (in a state of dormancy, inactivity) is that a word and yesterday and today notes To Do List also page 52 the spelling of Avant gardist Taurus man the Gardner Taurus woman the garden Aries man initiation initiative Aries woman the director of natural force embodiment of pure life force 

the myth of Mira from which we get the word Mer 

we can say 

we do say Aries man is the fat folk but I’m thinking actually it’s Taurus 

Aries man symbolizes life force carnal fire coursing through his veins Aries woman harnessing that power. Athena is a director of life force. 

chapter says Aries needs to open his quote “viewer”. But I think we change this in the new book since it is Taurus that is myopic. 

Aries nomadic, conquering herds and hordes, living “off the animal”  lots of fleece and mutton in contrast to Taurus where the Bull is the fructifying agent. 

Everytime a Bull appears in mythology it becomes this kind of love-object. Zeus as the Bull beckons to be ridden, he does not force his maleness. 

“The concept of male changes from Aries to Taurus dramatically.” And Gemini is both and in order to be so, successfully, he must be clever.

Aries Nomads versus agrarian farmer Taurus. He farms for friends and those to people his life. His life is his garden. b

Man:

Aries Man

The first house about “taking stabs” • They take everything personally • Not only do they have seeing others’ perspectives, they exhibit no irony in believing that everyone should be looking at life from theirs. • They are the biggest hostage taker. •They are the most unbeholden living life on their own terms and on their own time. If they find, as they often do, a solo vocation where they needn’t much interface with others—solo artist or business owner, carpenter, graphic designer, anything where they can create and come up with any goods alone. Other notions: Stalker tendencies (if denied what they want), hard workers (bad bosses), strong body odor, bossy bottoms, bluster and bravado, Up for anything not for too long, thumbsucking and having to change their diapers. They adore without being clingy. In charge. Always moving onto the next thing. They have short tempers and are prone to tantrums. “Charismatic mansplainers. Active adventurous, but not in it for the long haul. In it for the “moment” and ultimately good with being in the moment (via meditation, etc). He can’t  deal with rejection in the least (while his so-called opposite sign of Libra’s whole being and existence is hinged on negoatiating it, along with all things one-on-one relationa)l. No sign takes what life may bring more personally than does Aries. Impuslive. He sees the world/existence as possessing the same qualities as he—that reality/existence is impulsive, competitive, dog-eat-dog, raw and rather random.

Not to say all Aries are Buddhists, but their natural brand of spirituality is hinged on the upper-case Self as the highest form of power, while they tend to be pretty self-y in the bedroom as well.

what kinds of offspring did Ares have? 

Needing final list of jewelry styles. Aries men needs to be more the Shepherd archetype leading the flock solo endeavour. The hero archetype maybe even work in heracles having to go through self imposed trials. Iron Man. Reading house lists for ideas. Aries is outwardly challenging loves to debate. Jim Parsons? Issa? Kumal? Jessica Williams. Eddie Redmayne. The woman in the Danish girl. John Oliver. How were work with clients .

Aries man is the most self obsessed of the astrological characters. He fascinates at his own experience personal experience that which is right in front of him the metaphorical equivalent of the baby playing with his own body and entertaining only that which is in his immediate via. He wears an open expression like Ewan McGregor, typically pitched forward in conversation talking at others with a challenging glint in his eye. Very rarely someone you’d describe as laid back . Forever proving a point , convincing others of his position. Even if the strong silent type there is a sense of seething beneath the surface. He is never retiring. Learning to be a team player because it does not come naturally. Site Michael imperioli. 

Aries man is the most indie of the sign. Vincent Gallo. Diane von Furstenberg. Ares is the God of blood. Research his foreign equivalents. He is most cut and dry. 

The following blocks of text are exceprts from my first year of  Blagues, nos. 771-775. 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. 

There are no previous Blagues worth posting today.

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

Page 1. Snapshot.

Twist on opening words from S’ology. Her usual traits are set ups for evolving them. Her typical challenges are evolved through. “She realizes” negative patterns have a “shelf life”. Everything, even negatives spun as a positive “part of her evolution.”

Her sign’s energy is all about “potential” “alchemical change” “developing clarity” “uncertainty drives her deeper”

She appears one way to others (forever mulling) but they are symptoms of something else: her inherent process of personal evolution. To others “she’s stuck”. 

Wherever we find (her) on her evolutionary path she always (cartoon bubble above her head). 

Page 2-5 Sign + Significance

(2)

 Of all signs most…has a “default sense” of (lack)…We all struggle with (loss) but for her it’s X…pointing to universals but digging into her specifics.

Aries most something to prove. It might put people off, but itisn’t bad it is really about X although he could be less Robnoxious about it. Needing to impress if not impose. Is he needy? He would never think so.

“Astrology 101 says” Virgos will organize others…. “certain genius” in this, which comes easy

But “What is hard” is (applying to herself)….  Taking sign motto(s) and turning them into the positive side of paradox.

Aries is the “indie” on solo trip, perhaps must truly embrace that and therefore not have to impress or also to fit in. not needing others to be on his trip as well.

“VW has strongest”…(emotional intelligence) “what might be mistaken for X (being on autopilot) is actually Y (feeling her way, honing her e.i.)… “even when (servile) is really (serving self)” putting “puzzle pieces together at techtonic pace” thus….

(3)

 “she is collage of influences p, p + props, happenstance 6^th house, habits, rituals behavior

Segue into “borrower” archetype of Pandora…but it’s more than that she is molding them into something greater than sum of parts “to be actively impressionable is one of VW’s greatest superpowers” and with it comes responsibility…must avoid this or that.

Is Z’s original “mama’s girl” encoded into astro DNA. Myth bit. (So, if you wonder Virgo, why your relationship with mother is so loaded) Reference “Sharp Objects”

“There is paradoxical power to be mined and pitfalls to negotiate” It is her (another) superpower to diagnose and set things right”

(4)

That super power comes “from the arduous work she does around maternal bond” as does (arrested development) another negative. She is all mythological characters (Pandora, Demeter, Kore) negotiating virtue and vice, meting them out, process of “all too human” conscience.

Here’s a snapshot of VW: “facilitator of first order”. Cite quality-element. Power to mold situations to her specifications in subtle steady fashion. Shaped new reality without notice. She considers all angles (consults everyone) but never second guesses

Prone to victim mentality, slighted put upon (by sibling) drill down mutable-earth “power” a “volcano of self-insight”

“The cosmic energy of mutable-earth, the combination of elements (f,e,a,w) and quality (c,f,m) unique to Virgo, fits on many levels”. Vulcanalia (8/23) Hephaestus (tinker potter etc) more accurately alchemist. Lame, divine power stemming from disability. Her character portrayed by primordial female Pandora, speaking volumes on her ability to conform, mold, be bolded and on “shadow side” to outsource her own development/grooming to others. Be Svengali’d/develop Wendy complex…filling in gaps in others’ lives victim (ultimately victor) elements.

(5)

Myth rape Kore/Core one of victimization/adoration model for Beauty/Beast

“loss” of maidenhood + devestation/disenfranchisement of mother “Black Demeter” void of divinity. “So next time you ghost someone, Virgo, “ IS MYTH TOO REPETITIVE S’OLOGY? We will add in some disclaimers “we have long established in our previous books that the archetypes we associate with Virgo are…” “and we work with these archetypes in private practice with clients of this sign”

Aries?

Previous sign Leo pride V’s S.P. is humility. Planet in dispute—Mercury, Chiron Vulcan) All healer/alchemists (is this in Sextrology’s V.W. chapter?). Also question mark hanging over this whole issue. ***Is another S.P. that of inquiry? Asking the right questions if not having answer? Is her constant pondering the S.P? Scrutiny? Dissecting? Or is dissecting a V.M. thing?

Mercury magic 1.Gemini slight of hand 2.Virgo transmutation, “characterizes her experience and evolution” getting lead out metaphorical/metaphysical Caduceus, med pro , Hermes = hermits work in secrecy hermetic (occult of alchemy astrology theosophy….ADD hermetically sealed? We are thinking that in fleshing out more “our work with clients”

(6)

Mother Self SB/TB comes off narrative that was set up (we do these later, take notes now)

Sense + Psyche

VW to mind-body connection no brainer. Sign Symbol hinged (like all earth signs) on theme.

For VW vivid: holds spica posied to insert body rule of digestion ate pomegranate food of underworld 

(7)

Seals her fate, personifies cycle of life. Digestion literal meting out nutrient from waste (fertility/Demeter). Digestion metaphor human conscience, seat of increasing divine nature of being chewing on right and wrong for self, community, environment. Gut choices mind/belief with body/behavior with mind. What sits well both real and metaphor. Stomach second brain

Hardpressed to run digestive system; tinkering only makes on sicker. VW must leave body alone The turning in M at best means tuning into still small voice, shadow side: caving in on oneself. Demeter in hiding leads to core, kiln, crucible, purified in fire of own being. VW can glean 2 truths: trials fuel fire that reforge her stronger AND purity is renewable resource need never be lost. Fire removes impurities. Is VW an avoidist?

Singular challenge move through troubles not broken record seeking outside counce fixes.

Target specific issue. Always looking for next guru. As yourself where you play injured party.

People places things can fill empty spaces.

(8)

Whether lame Heph., broken jar/box or raped Kore, trauma of loss (of ability, freedom, innocence, etc) designed to put VW on road toward healing. Accepting life on life’s terms. This is the path of surrender. White lied. She must let experience move through her. To be Virgo: to burn with deire to contribute. Only comes from cosmic breeding to sniff out defects and deficit. But slow to decision. Must come to realize Virgo experience means letting light of personal revelation in through cracks. For disability to fuel sympathy, functionality, divinity. Lemon to lemonade. Beyonce. So where do we find you, Virgo, in this process?

Spica gestation/digestion is letting experience move through.

(9)

Pregnant with possibility. Juiciest, oomphy appearance, bursting with plans ideas, projects information as she might be with gossip gripes grousing. We use her body as metaphor.

Lemons should give rise to humor (comedians new category we didn’t mention in the past) we describe personality: “unapologetic, full bodied spirit, devoid of preciousness. Childlike nature, goofiness, sardonic laughter …self-deprecating at once eternal teen and lifelong midlife crisis.

Mercury. crossroads. Metaphor for crisis and conscience. Kid sister of Zodiac, guileless exuberance, tag a long, fly on wall, blank page, lump of clay, slowly digest without pressure. Also keeps her young. Half the story. Seemingly unassuming, affable childlike, but serious side, tender vulnerable. A cameo, an old fashioned human. Not to be forgotten, sentimental value.

(10)

How she appeals and protects. Laughing through tears. Transmutes life’s sorrows, humiliations into satiric send ups. Sending up (surrending! To the gods). Fire of purification now searing humor…being human…humility too. Citric analogy Liz Lemon mod Virgo archetype, kid-sister, wendy complexed, lost boys and burned by the ridiculous, finding the funny. 

Mercury on earth plane flightless birds. Not a disability but a sign of evolution. Having found a niche to flourish. We always called her beauty storky and her demeanor dorky. Playing the sign guessing game as we do if a gangly long lashed beaky unwieldly yet unhurried, measured, we would peg her as Virgo….Lauren Bacall to Sophia to Chrissie to Amy Man to Noamie Harris to Misty Copeland to Suranne Jones….to be continued but maybe it is enough!! Or just add a sentence or two

(11) Solo Silo based on Color

Sexuality + Spirit

Love relationships pose particular challenge. Intimate relationships are where…we see sharpest outline of her spiritual relationship toward life. Sally Brown blind affection for Linus. Doesn’t notice his dispassion. Great romance can be all in her head. Just enjoys being in love or lust or both without pesky relationship itself. Almost enough to have feelings awakened as they contribute to her feeling in love with life. Gives everyone in earshot blow by blow of her daily grind. 6^th House focuses on happenstance which she spices up in retelling. Despite fears/doubts, Sally Brown of Zodiac is optimistic, yet practical and loses patience with the high-expecting Linusus.

(12)

Pandora primordial female brought virtue and vice into world cognate Mary Mag anointing oil in jar. Demeter/Kore silos ceramic jars underground grain/corn. Jars metaphor for Virgo vessel Mother Earth container of life, female species as well, Virgo spotlighting matrilineage.

What to do with spica? Question for VW regardless of sexual or gender identity. Entering bond w/VW not to be taken lightly. Many VW marry young or playhouse with older someone serving as mentor only to divorce ere long. Raise your hand Virgo? Leaping before looking only needs to learn that lesson once. 

13

Eyeballing spica symbol of consideration, mindfulness giving rise to healthy beheavior, breaking bad habits reversal of victim to victor. Madonna/whore invention of patriarchy sacred harlot Mary Mag was no puta but a high priestess, sex magick is VW Superpower, if they were getting it on then Jesus was as high priest their union being sacred right. 6^thhouse of divinely endowed rituals not just habits. Needs to go to higher power place with sex. This will come as no surprise to her. (Talking directly to and also about her in chatty way.) Eleusinian Mysteries dedicated to Demeter-Kore form of apotheosis divinity on initiates September event three phases dissent, search , return. Heiros Gamos Alchemical marriage conception of divine child. And you wonder why she can’t take sex lightly? Never casual but most causal: meaning sex is magic for VW utter surrender to the act with devotional surrendering up . Mysterious and transportive two ecstatic state. Not to mention Essential for life creation 

14 

Virgo’s desired sexual groove also applies to other areas of life. Her archetypal DNA seize her self sacred in Den mother role even. Middle Eastern hippie boy band Mary magdeleine most Wendy complexed . She wasn’t servile but exalted. Not what but how she was doing and saw herself in the process likewise VW is invincible clear bold declarations to herself only by descending into active introspection , loss, searching her feelings can she ultimately ascend to new emotional intellectual and spiritual Heights does her self service to look on others as initiates newbies with whom she can be a patient and on whom it’s her power to bestow the bounty of her company and reassurance healing and appreciation (anointing). We say bit others welcome without being a doormat something she has to work on. VW potentially most caring of anyone on planet. Withholding is her greatest weapon . It’s not nice to fool Mother Nature. VW can hold a grudge. Typically grows up in household sometimes parents will compensate for her feeling like an afterthought by helping financially she doesn’t really get the validation she needs she gets the message that others see her as someone in need operating as adept at a deficit the girl was something missing short a few marbles maybe. So we see the emergence of another Virgo theme that of love and pity being intertwined also feeling indebted perhaps indentured emotionally held hostage and as mentioned this charge is typically led by virgo’s mother 

15

all VW wants is love and confidence others confidence in her not their projected fear. Not all VW encounter this exact dynamic still themes weave their way into experience making it difficult for VW to read signals friends and lovers or sending will not clearly giving off their own. Dig down search around come up with something declaratives statements especially when it comes to love are VW’s best friend in the end. Prospect of making declaration just someone she likes is terrifying in extreme, it removes the obstacle that looming cartoon? To knowing. She may have to admit she doesn’t always want to know the answer. She enjoys the possibility of the fantasy of her imagined potential scenarios sometimes better than solid outcomes. Not only would rejection pain her but if she were to release kauer her feelings she might admit she doesn’t truly desire some happily ever after with this crush she keeps going on about. In the elusive knee and mysteries of blissful afterlife isn’t had that easily . And initiate must earn it through years of repeated participation In devotion to the goddesses. Even then it is her power to withhold . But again This all falls under larger heading of would be Virgo mindfulness . By all means Virgo indulge your fantasies about this mate or that steady friend with benefits even if the other party hasn’t a clue you’re lusting for them. So long as you know it’s fantasy no harm done. By the same token What you’re feeling is real you must make that clear and move through the experience removing the obstacle of guesswork and the endlessly ensuing dialogue around it. 

The following blocks of text are exceprts from my first year of  Blagues, nos. 766-770. 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. 

Nothing today!

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

Virgo 7° (August 29)

In the intro we must make a case for working with archetype, and I want to schedule in that intro writing after I hit my marks today. Athena “armed wisdom.” If gods are disunited there is return to chaos, they are proud susceptible and vain, cunning and intelligent. Along comes an energy more rational, capable of unity, constructing peace, on the side of reason not passion. From the first wife Metis prudence and cunning. Gaia and Uranus warn Zeus that after she gives birth to a daughter she will bear a son that will dethrone him. He does his trick of swallowing her, playing a game of metamorphese, on the verge of giving bith to her: Armed and helmeted letting out a war cry, striking fear. Prudence and wisdom of mother, intelligence of father. His fave forgiving everything. Given to Triton the river god raised with his daughter Pallas. During combat training Athena kills her involuntarily, Pallas distracted by Zeus’s appearing, fearing Athena’s safety. Lost sister, places her name before her own, homage to her. Dazzling beauty but determined to stay virgin. Hephaestus relentlessly pursues her. She orders weapons which he says he’ll do for love of her. Poseidon, her rival, tells Hephaestus that she wants him so when she comes to collect her weapons he pounces on her. She gets away he catches up and tears her garment exposes her body and basically shoots his wad which lands on her leg and, in disgust, she wipes off with a scrap of wool, throwing it on the ground, unknowingly impregnating Gaia, her great grandmother who gives birth to Erichthonius, half human half snake baby boy, whose name derives from the Greek word for wool, the Ram’s sheepish association duly noted. Gaia rejects him in horror so Athena adopts him and loves him so fiercely the gods all believe it’s really her child. Relate to snake goddesses in notes. Three daughers of Cecrops, king of Attica, her priestesses, were put in charge of his care when Athena was otherwise engaged but they were told not to look inside the basket; curiosity got the better of two of them and they opened the box and went insane from fright and threw themselves from the Acropolis.

Zeus puts forth a decree that all the gods must claim a patron city. Attica is fought over by Poseidon and Athena, rivals from the get go. It is the most civilized place in Greece with no human sacrifice, law courts, and mandates for marriage and monogamy. It is not only a democracy but women have the right to vote. Poseidon offers and creates a lake of saltwater for leisure and water sports and a warhorse, a black stallion for the king, entertainment and war. Athena offers the useful gift of the olive whose leaves never fall and whose fruit will feed and fuel the people, a symbol of peace (still is) and fertility. She wins, carried along by the women’s vote. Poseidon is bitter and hateful (a side of Pisces we will explore), but Athena offered peace and agriculture. Erichthonius becomes the first king. Athena becomes the patron of heroes, Perseus gifting her with the Medusa’s head for her help, which she wears on her breastplate. The Trojan horse is her idea, she helps Odysseus, Telemachus and allows Prometheus entry to steal the proverbial fire. She inspires audacity and clearheadedness in humans, a new form of bravery guided by reflection and cunning, not disorganized, blind fury, associated with Ares, her opposite. 

Intelligence in the service of war for peace instead of the extermination of the enemy. She is guide of heros. Protectress of the state, the first palacial god, laws and their correct application. w/out prosperity laws alone are not enough She gives men the plough and yoke. Also teaches numbers and women the culinary arts with weaving and spinning. Oversees shipbuilding, how to work wood (he he) as she is goddess of the helm. She oversees the construction of the Argo which sets out for the golden fleece, from the Ram who is the constellation of Aries. She is often in contest, that is a hint of her mythology. Arachne hangs herself in remorse for boasting after Athena, in a rare mood, breaks the place up in a rage. Athena puts a balm on her corpse and turns here into a spider, an arachnid, forever hanging as was the girls choice and forever weaving which is Athena’s decree.

The following blocks of text are exceprts from my first year of  Blagues, nos. 761-765. 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. 

Let’s talk biz too. The nutshell on my journalistic career is this.My real name is Wm. Leone for starters and I was a journalist and editor in my youth while trying to launch an acting career. Most people wait tables. I ultimately did that too, at the Bell Caffee on Spring Street. But that’s a long story, being a gender bendy 90s neo hippy hangout near Don Kings. Waiters wouldn’t show up and sometimes i ran the whole restuarant—easy a 100 customers by myself wearing shorty Hawaiian print bathing trunks, with work boots and a slicker throwing parties with Penny Arcade and Chris Tanner and Quentin Crisp and so many others back in the day. I was intermittently on Broadwy while working there three years. Before going deep into freelance mode.Before all that, my first magazine job was at Passion in Paris (run by Robert Sarner) in 1985 1986 I wrote things about micobiological farm markets and singers at Le Palace but mainly, speaking friench, I answered phones and used our trade with clubs to party with my friends who in Paris then included Jo Rowling and jackie and laurence llewelyn bowen and susan tide frater all still closest friends.Then I moved to NYC in 1987 and worked for Judy Price at Avenue magazine on their side more style magazine called On The Avenue. That world include Joan Krone and Andrew Willis (is that his name) and great photogrphers Joseph Carne, Steven Klein with baby Kristy models. It was culture shock there so I left to work at two magazines simultaneously. I founded DV8 which was fabulous and all the club kids worked for us circulating the magazine at Tunnel and The World and the like. I was editor there and also Managing Editor working for Howard Jacoby with Lisa Kenndy, Lynn Geller, Jim Mullen,  Donald Shruggs, Peter McQuaid, Glenn O’Brien. Mainly people did a lot of coke while I put the magazine together.I wrote for Paper and Detour and then my acting work took off a bit in between the Bell Cafee, two shows on Broadway, then back to journalism this time Working as a reporter for Instyle, also producing FAshion TV segments for City TV Toronto which also did Ohh La La with Laurie PIke. I wrote for slew of magazines then like Paper, Glue, Stop, The Face, Cosmopolitan and runway reports that took me to Paris and Milan for Madmoiselle, Glamour, YM eventually TimeOut, The New York Obersver, and The New York Times but something was lurkingLynne cum Stella and I were already deep into astrology. She was working for designers in Paris and Milan which is really why I sought writing gigs there.That and the fact the runways were riddled with Supermodels and I was consious of being in the right place at the right time. Anyway after her and my work in Paris or Milan folks would come over and get a reading from us. Big people in magazines like Sally Singer and Brana Wolf and a slew of executive editors, one at Teen People who asked us to create a his/her horoscope column. We did. it was a huge hit everybody was reading it. Adults I mean. One was Rob Weisbach who offered us a book deal which eventually become a Harper Collins book SEXTROLOGY , followed years later by Cosmic Coupling.While writing books I because an A NIght Out With columnist in the STyles section of Times and also wrote for the ART section of the Boston Globe. Then Tyler Brule left Wallpaper and Lynne and I were brought over together by Time Inc to act as executive editors —this was 2003, before the books were published and, once they were, we went through a long period being written about though now came out of the closet as astrologers and wrote features and horoscope columns under our new pseudonyms for British Vogue, Paris Vogue, Glamour, German Glamour, Bolero, Style.Co./Vogue/ Vanity Fair, Cosmo, Elle, on and on and on. We even thought we could make a go with a horoscope in Star but couldn’t work with Bonnie Fuller and Joe Dolce just couldn’t make that work…..

So then Starsky + Cox took over. We were performing an act as such; We had two books and columns culminating in being the Astrologers for the Daily Beast, something Newseek readers were freaked out about. But we had many firsts. They way we skewed the subject of astrology was in a sophiscticated sometime glam direction. Our book launches were at Barneys where Simon did Sextrology windows which was so sweet……..

============================================

Typos happen—I don’t have time or an intern to edit.*

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

Virgo 6° (August 28)

Sometimes you have to trick yourself into getting words down on paper. Something about being on a fast track, as a strategist, maybe let’s others take care of her in some way or other. She isn’t the type to readily send a thank you note. You have no idea whom I’m talking about, but I do. And that’s the point. I need to speak around the subject of this person. No bones about it, very clear, not taking no for an answer. I wrote one page. I was meant to write four more. It’s okay, I’m writing this. And tomorrow I have that much more to do. Eight pages in all. It’s not impossible I dare say. Sometimes the hardest thing to do is start. And I’ve started. Something weird: My keys on my keyboard feel harder to press than usual. Is that a thing? I dunno. Maybe I’m just that tired? It is possible. I have some notes I need to put together let’s see: something to the effect of, okay that thing I just said…if, coming off what we should said about free-spiritedness being encoded in Aries DNA, you’re scratching your head wondering then why it is that the Aries woman in your life calls you for advice more often than anyone you know. Or if you, Aries, reading this is likewise curious why it is you call your mother daily for advice on every tiny career move we have some answers for you. First of all when clients come to see us we explain…. That is to say you’re not there yet. Also one of the markers for personal evolution in Aries world is just how much you do rely on others for, what is typically, a specific brand of guidance. The more self-realized Aries will not only solicit such advice infrequently, she will also find herself playing the role of wise woman, with friends in within her family. But there is a distinction we want to make here. You’re not so much needy as you are needful. That is to say you’re not approaching people as a victim like say another sign whose name begins with the same letter and who tends to tells their tales of woe, rather you ask for others opinions with your mind on winning, enlisting others’ advice as any intended victor would do in her warroom. Well that was a good start.

I think if I can keep up a fairly steady pace, I will have a nice draft by winter. It’s a good goal in any case. I’m surely not going anywhere—they will have to pry me out with a stick. It will be an interesting time one way or another. And though I wish I didn’t have a single negative feeling hanging over my head I didn’t create it and I can’t cure it. You can’t go from telling people month in and month out how amazing they are as, shall we say, residents; only to then one day turn around and become this drastically abusive entity. It will not work that way and, if anything, this will be a galvanizing catalyst and I pity the poor fool who takes us on. I always try to tell people: don’t do it. Because I’ve seen some really awful karmic things come down as a result. I have to chalk this past week up to coincidence. I refuse to believe our juju had anything to do with the terrible events of the week. But holy moly it is really tough when people who have just treated you like garbage suddenly meet with tragedy. I can’t exactly reach out with any kind of comfort, if anything I feel how acutely that instinct has already been bred out of me which is strange in and of itself. Enough of new writing, let’s bring on the old….

The following blocks of text are exceprts from my first year of  Blagues, nos. 756-760. 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.  

Fifth memory: Taking a bath in an aluminum tub with my first cousin Karen outside at my Aunty Margies house. My father, the oldest, had three siblings: Marge, Junior and Donny (surely not their actual names—I told you all my life my father’s name was James, right, until he told me in my thirties that his name was really Vicenzo?). Marge lived in Lyndhurst, New Jersey. And like I tried to tell Georgeann Walken (Christopher’s wife) who was the casting director of The Sopranos (on which a slew of friends and acquaintances like Michael Imperioli and Aida Turturro appeared): I knew the entire landscape of that show from growing up and going to Auntie Margie’s, passing, like the Soprano’s opening credits, all they pictured there plus the endless cemetaries and cemetary themed shops—yes I think they were cemetary shops where you could by tombstones and fake flower decorations because, in that part of New Jersey, death-themed outlets and fledgling fast food restaurants—the first ever McDonald’s I ever saw—was in Lyndhurst and Kearny, where New Jersey children of immigrants went to die. You could entered Auntie Margie’s house without ever going into the house at all. They had the first electric garage door opener I ever saw. It was just a doorbell near the garage door that you pushed, meaning anyone could at any time but didn’t because people didn’t assume such a thing existed then. The door opened and before it was fully raised, as soon as you could, you ducked into the garage and then immediately into the “basement” which was all tile and lineoleum (easily wiped down with cleaner on a cloth) and there was a kitchen and a cheap outdoor/indoor table, glass and iron, and other smaller, mainly card, tables, that doubled as “kids tables” and places where poker would happen. Karen was uncle Donny’s daughter. I never saw her growing up past the age when we were three. But for that time we were inseparably bathed, bedded and put to play together.

=====================================

So I came upon a Facebook message this awful person sent me before immediately blocking me. He is a notorious criminal and an even more notorious asshole called Duncan. I think he was on a celebrity rehab show. Anyway, he was in Provincetown for the first Afterglow, sharing a house with one of the performers. I managed not to meet him the entire festival because I wasn’t one to party with the performers which is a good policy to maintain. On the final night John Cameron Mitchell had a show and it was surely going to sell out. I told the hangers-around the theater including close friends that they should buy tickets before they were gone. My friends did. Not only did we sell out but JCM arrived at showtime with an entourage that we also had to somehow “fit” into the room. I had limitations—fire codes imposed by the venue. We got everybody in except this asshole Duncan who threw a fit. I said: “I told you hours ago to buy tickets before we were sold out.” He went around in a heightened state of Don’t You Know Who I Am? No, I don’t; and I don’t care. He was miserably rude to me. I ignored it. But then he went around bullying young people I had volunteering as ushers. That was it. I told him to get out. He called me a “Fat AIDS Dwarf” among other thing. Then he flung a water in my face and stormed out but not before being hit with two (closed) bottles of water my hands had found and flung at him before my brain even had a chance to process. JCM was meant to introduce me onstage. I was soaking wet. He came into the lobby asking what had happened. I went on stage soaking wet. Meanwhile Stella was seated next to Taylor Mac whom she told I had had an issue with Duncan, not knowing the upshot. Oh that guy, said Taylor. He had a bunch of performers come to the West Coast for a performance and then didn’t pay anybody. (I’m paraphrasing). Apparently en route leaving the theater he bent and broke the radio antennae on my antique Mercedes. He’s a bad egg. He has been in trouble with the law I learned since. Three years ago, when I was in Paris, I awoke to this note on FB….at least he didn’t call me “fat” this time.

=====================================

So inspired by the last spoke whereby a guy named Duncan sent me a note he never should. I was glancing at my email “drafts and noticed I have an even 240 said drafts. I suspect they are mainly made up of emails I wrote in some state of emotion than thought the better of. I’m twenty-eight Blagues behind, spanning the signs of Taurus and Gemini. So what better way to bridge that gap then by publishing narcissistic emails that, in so doing, might take on a comic rather than tragic purpose.

I’m going to start with a letter I wrote recently that I knew, when writing it, I couldn’t send—it was meant for two individuals:

If a certain friend of ours whom we adore ever knew the way you spoke of her it would break her heart. Your hypocrisy and disingenuousness know no bounds. You’ll turn on a dime if something appeals to your vanity.Just how many farewell shows and articles have you done solely for the attention?In life we all encounter people who are users (in multiple senses of the word) masquerading as kind and caring individuals. For me you have been a cautionary tale. That said, when asked about you I only say the kind things I can think of or nothing at all.I have even tried to get beyond animosity with you, year on year, and broker some kind of detente.I realize now that is impossible because you know I see through what others swallow about you hook, line and sinker. You live inside a desperate bubble of narcissistic self-aggrandizement, which, I imagine, must be exhausting to sustain.I really hope for your own sake that you do achieve some semblance of fame in your golden years. I know how important it is to you.Whether or not that does come to pass I will make a non-astrological prediction:Someday one of you will turn a blind eye, one last time, to the fact that the other one of you is a pusher and an assassin. I can only hope that nobody I love and cherish will suffer as a result; and that the pain and guilt will be something you can endure.See you around town as is inevitable.

Typos happen—I don’t have time or an intern to edit.*

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

Virgo 5° (August 27)

I’m still reeling from the events with the farmer which will come round to two weeks this Sunday. I fell asleep late and woke early from a dream wherein I was with a bunch of people and we were attending an outdoor football game. JD was there and there was this sense that we were repairing. We all started running down this grass path inside the outdoor stadium if you will, such that the path was like the main circular hallway tier of an indoor stadium. I was running faster and faster and I was thinking I’m fitter than I thought I was—that I could run like this for a long time. And then the grassiness turned to asphalt with these kind of thin speed bump type things and I was leaping and it became a nearly flying dream and I was so far ahead of everyone that I stopped to see where others were behind me, especially S.. She was nowhere in sight and I asked JD where she was and he said solitary confinement. And I woke up. It was too early and I’d only slept a few hours. I watched some news then began to fall asleep again when S. woke up so I stayed up and I’m still up. And I’m taking inventory this morning before sitting down to write my five pages a day which is pretty much plan from here on in.

To that end I am relaxing into a little cooking right now, roasting potatoes to serve for Thursday brunch with leftover ratatouille and eggs and maybe some first fresh tomatoes from the garden. I’m saddened by the fact I have to feel the way I do now about living here after the abusive treatment by the farmer, but it has clarified things and I’m tired of walking on eggshells. For that matter his chickens sadden me. Every time I walk to the compost outpost they follow me and whine for company. He is really a sick man and we will no longer tolerate the treatment at his bullying hands. Anyway, getting my brain around the day. Im going to start putting drafts into a large loose-leaf and I’m going to muse about archetype and other ideas for the next chapter and then take those notes and try to mold them into something. I realize that I don’t necessarily need to print out all the deconstructed chapters in S’ology, but really only really read what notes I have and make a bullet point list of ideas I haven’t incorporated and notes, too, on what might be repeats. I will do that at some point today or this evening. Meanwhile I want to keep all the notes in one place which I will do with the help of a little paperclip action.

I don’t want to say that today feels hard, although I did pull the Knight of Pentacles (following the Page of Swords which signaled more ease these past few days). As I write this I’m getting a weird wave of sisterliness—I wonder if it is a tremor in the force. Nothing to do about that I’m afraid. Anyway I just need to make a little bit of a word jumble for the new chapter today at least. That just might end up being enough. I will probably accomplish more than that. I need to include some finger painting in the process today, that much is for sure. I have organized my office once again down to a nub, and there is no more “productinating” to be done (my word for when you procrastinate on the thing you are meant to do whilst still being quite productive. I’m happy to have a clear head even though I’m tired. I’ve balanced all my books and booked all my appointments, and now I’m getting down to the nitty gritty but before that I shall have lunch!

The following blocks of text are exceprts from my first year of  Blagues, nos. 751-755. 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.  

First memory: My sister leaning over my crib. Also Barrel of Monkeys holding hands and tails from the sealing to just over my face. I think there was something about them I didn’t like, the Monkeys—something to do with the sharp thin plastic from which they were made. I think perhaps one fell and poked me in the eye. I can see different colors—red, brown, yellow, blue—and I can see their expression. Of course the second after I write this I’m going Google Barrel of Monkeys and I know I’ll recognize their simean grins.

=================================================

Second memory: The painters are painting the apartment. I’m young—I don’t go to school yet (and I started school, “play school” at three); yes, my mother wanted someone else taking care of me until I could take care of myself, completely, by the age of 5. I remember my mother’s friend Joan coming down to check on the apartment. Later, I remember seeing photos of her visiting and I really was still a baby. Like a baby baby. And if this is my second memory than that crib one goes way back. I remember everything was one color. The walls, the painter himself, his clothes, the drop clothes. I don’t know why I look back on the painter as someone very kind and who I wish would have kidnapped me. He was a Norman Rockwell painter, a television sitcom painter, a kindly American fellow. I remember that much.

=============================

Third memory: Driving my Fisher Price car around the apartment. We lived in a small flat in Jersey City; two bedrooms, a bathroom a hallway a kitchen and a combined dining living room. I would drive my little wagon—it really wasn’t a car—around it and when I say drive I mean sit in it and move my feet. I remember the horn the most. It was in the middle of the “steering wheel” slash wagon pull and it beeped for a while. Soon it sort of was permanently caved in and out of air to create a beep. This was around the time when I would go into completely other worlds via duvet covers but I think I spoke about that in a previous Blague.

==================================

Fourth memory: Going to see Mary Poppins which was made a year after I was born so I suppose I would have saw it at age two. My mother’s mother’s sister, who looked like my grandmother but excactly, only taller, took me and maybe my sister. Although I do feel that my sister was already becoming my sworn enemy, through the warped machinations of her own mind; in fact I remember some drama that day but can’t put my finger on it. My sense is that it involved jealousy and the giving of presents. Me thinks she might have been judging love and loyalty via the quality of a present and perhaps I got a better one that day than she did from aunt Kate. I wasn’t alive when Darby O’Gill and the Little People first came out in 1959, but I know for some reason that it was in theaters in the sixties because I saw it around the same time as I saw Mary Poppins. I think I had lots of Mary Poppins paraphenalia—and I’m also sure that I couldn’t sit through the whole film, especially the cartoon parts, because, quite simply, they sucked. I might have napped or spent some time in the lobby with an adult feeding me candy. It was the same some years later with Bedknobs and Broomsticks when they merged with cartoon characters and backgrounds. I hated that. Give me real live flesh. Darboy O’Gill spoke to me. I had already been to those places where the little people live. And because it was probably at Radio City or something and we saw it at Christmas (we probably saw all the above mentioned movies at Radio City during Christmas—Bedknobs for sure, along with Oliver and other such films like Charlie Brown movies, although, they might have been at Easter not Christmas)—I was saying: because it was probably at Radio City and there was merch I had Darby O’Gill “rub ons” which were sort of decals on wax-y paper that you placed against things—in my case my shared (with my sister) bureau—and you rubbed, typically with a nickle against the wax-y paper that held the decal on the other side until it transferred to, in this case, the furniture. I don’t know what they put in those things but they never came off.

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

Virgo 4° (August 26)

The dream I had last night is difficult to put into words. I know it was inspired by watching My Brilliant Friend, which is superb. I know that it hinged on a close friendship with a solid guy. I know that I was filming along the coast of New Jersey. I even spoke to the fact that I was filming. Ellen was there looking for her lost adopted child, walking around with a picture of him as one might do with a pet whose run off. We hugged. We talked about when she was filming in the area. There is always this town, this village in my dreams, that runs along the water. All the buildings are made of a grey stone. I need to find that village somewhere in the world. It could be some place in France that isn’t super on everybody’s radar. I was wearing costuming from the set. I think that the Meisner, no the Drabkin family it was involved. Also there was a gathering at this house and people were interrelated like the families in the TV series, and there were hostile elements that brought me back to Oysterfest, perhaps, when I felt a little uneasy in a crowd of twenty something white people who seemed to know the words to every song from the early seventieis that might smake of racist Southern Rock. But this friendship and the feelings suffounding it were so warm and welcoming and I felt seen for the first time in a long time. I was enjoying a truly close family-like brotherly bond. Perhaps he was a cousin. He was Italian after all, but again I chalk that up to the series I’m watching. My own cousins on both sides are pretty terrible narcissists, the alive ones anyway That’s all I need to write today.

The following blocks of text are exceprts from my first year of  Blagues, nos. 746-750. 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.  

Why do I do what it is I do in regard to the half of each year, I spend, putting together performing arts festivals and series. Well, the simple answer is that Ed Sullivan and I share more than a birthday. Like Ed, I was a journalist from the age of 22 to about 40. IN fact the main reason I thought to adopt the pseudonym of Quinn Cox was because I wanted to keep my journalistic world—editors and publishers and the subjects I wrote about—separate from what might or not be a success as an astrological duo which has affectionately come to be known as Starsky + Cox. But you see paradoxes began to spring up. Like my Libran brother Oscar Wilde said, and I paraphrase because I’m too lazy to look this shit up: Give a man a mask and he’ll reveal his truths to you. Okay I’m going to look it up and see how close I got. What he actually said was: “Give him a mask and he will tell you the truth.” Which is much simpler and better but I was close.

People do not know me and that’s been okay. I think I’m getting ready to reveal myself in teaspoonfuls. The fact is that back around 2005 I thought Stella and I needed to take to a stage, something we had only done together, rarely, in acting classes where, at HB Studios, we were labelled “the Lunts” which, I won’t lie, I loved. I had a sort of rock-bottom epiphany where I thought, hang on, our book Sextrology came out last year and it has been a success, so we should take to the stage and somehow combine comedy and astrology with some music thrown in. At a place called (under) Elmo in Chelsea, which one tried to convince oneself was a boutique version of Fez under Time Cafe which had recently closed down, we launched our first “Cosmic Cabaret” to a full house of wonderful people we knew personally and periferally. Lots of fashion people—Zaldy and Ruben and Isabel Toledo and John Bartlett—as opposed to performer folks. And, I have to say, after another decade or so “being” with performer folk, I much prefer the people in the fashion and design world, despite the fact I was so utterly convinced, in 2005, that I wanted to stop hanging around with fashion folks whom I did at the time find fatuous and enter the “real” world of performing artists who were down, dirty, honest and true.

Performing artists, who had been down, dirty, honesty and true for the whole time I dipped in and out of their circles, for the past 20 years since I made my way to NYC, but when, in 2006, I began to seek their company, they were on their last gasp of genuine experience. Now, first, let me say, there is no downtown. And I say this as both a journalist and a downtown denizen who more dabbles in performance. I have said this for a decade now: Round about 2007, “downtown artists” began emulating some hybrid breed of Upper East Side Socialite and opera, indie-movie and/or rock star. Quite a leap, I know; but one felt, downtown, that one should speak in a mid-Atlantic accent previously reserved for Rosiland Russell and garb oneself from head to toe in outfits that were spontaneously ready to pass, if pressured, at a Met or Whitney Event.

Suddenly the creme de la creme of the downtown scene used words like creme de la creme. Though they might still live in apartments where the bath tub was recently or still, in the kitchen, they thought they should no longer have to pay for meals or makeup or plastic surgery because they were iconic, and they were. Some still are although that particular brand of enchantment is wearing off and, dare I say, thin.

And I started to miss my friends that worked at magazines that no longer existed. I started to miss the art directors and fellow writers, like myself, who live such solitary lives that it takes a proper poking or, at the very least, a more gregarious partner to stap you into interaction. But what I missed most about living life as a more anonymous character was the ability to move on a dime, to travel, undetected, without needing to be any one place on any certain date….

===========================================

I was talking about being a journalist. I started at Passion magazine in Paris in 1986 than moved to New York in 1987 where I worked at an Avenue magazine offshoot called On The Avenue; at the same time I became managing editor then editor of DV8* which was a downtown music, fashion and art magazine that club kids like James St. James and Michael Alig would circulate for us at clubs like the Tunnel, Limelight, Palladium and The World. I then became managing editor of The New York Social Calendar which was a hip rag that was put in the new breed of luxury hotels like the Royalton and the Paramount where Where magazine wouldn’t fit. I freelanced for a number of magazines and newspapers including Paper, The New York Observer, Stop, In-Style, where I was a party reporter and Detour, where I wrote big celebrity features, The New York Times and the Boston Globe. I also was a field producer of a television show called Ooh La La made in Canada by the people who produced Fashion Television with Jeannie Becker. I did fashion pieces for youthy magazines like YM, Mademoiselle and Teen People. Soon, though, people got wind of Starsky + Cox and we/they began writing horoscope columns and features for seemingly every publication from Paris Vogue, Allure, Cosmopolitan, Elle and Teen People, Star, Glamour and ultimately the Daily Beast (if you can believe we had a short-lived column there which ultimately became our own brand of Haute Astrology). Meanwhile under my real name and also under Stella’s real name I wrote for Neimann Marcus “The Book” which was pretty prestigious and allowed for more creativity than journalistic outlets, even though it was considered advertorial.

==================================

The word nemisis is literally from the goddess Nem-Isis, who was the shadow twin of Isis. An archeytpal Debby Downer if you will.

In my life, I believe, that I have had one nemisis, which is different from an enemy. A nemesis might be closer to a frenemy but one of the two people in the equation might be bordering on restraining order. My nemesis has actually tried to kill me, oh so subtly, but I don’t take it personally as he tries to kill everyone he “loves”, oh so subtly, because he has this weird worship/destroy attitude toward people he suspects are smarter, more fortunate or talented than s/he. This nemesis is no longer a nemesis in that I am in no way any longer emotionally involved with this character. Someone close to me probably warned me by saying something like: Anyone that wants to get that close to you so fast is probably not someone you want to know (or probably will know in the longr un because they are going to assert some narcissistic agenda). True dat. Funny thing about narcissists: They stage things like farewell tours and then they don’t go away.

==============================

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

Virgo 3° (August 25)

There are no words.

The following blocks of text are exceprts from my first year of  Blagues, nos. 740-745. 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.  

I love Julia Child. Who doesn’t, I know, but she has always held a special fascination for me. When I was a waiter in 1986 at the Harvest in Harvard Square, she and her husband Paul would come in for lunch. You would here “Bonjour Roger” in that booming unmistakeable tenor as she greeted the tiny alcoholic nicotine sodden maitre d’ whose name she properly prounced in French, ro-jay. Paul, a curled shrimp of a man who had already suffered his series of small strokes, followed hist towering wife into the dining room where she would always order the same thing: a burger, rare, no bun. She is a Leo and I’ve often remarked on the similarity between her choice of lunch and the bloody meat one would throw into a lion cage.

Before the book and movies about her during the last decades, I always thought she would make a great subject for a work of art. I won’t go any further into that thought lest I actually end up pursuing this instinct myself. At the very least I think she and her husband would make great costumes for Stella and me, come Halloween. But, obviously, there’s more to it. Here was a couple who worked together (even though you didn’t know he was behind the scenes), who had no kids and were rather late bloomers. They were also obsessed with France and had an affinity for Cambridge, Massachusetts and Maine. All of this I can relate to.

She described herself “as the cat looking at the king” when she was a student of Le Cordon Bleu—what can be more Leo an expression than that. And what person from any other sign could turn what was for her a personal passion into an entire movement, changing the way Americans cooked, forever. What other sign could see a chef superstar embodied in the form of a fifties something woman. I’m happy I had the few opportunities I did to wait on Mrs. Child whose name couldn’t be more fitting for someone who lived life with a childlike exuberance and who gave so much to the world.

=================================

As we often are, we were approached by an event planner to do readings for guest at a private party. But there was something mysterious about this whole affair as the planner didn’t seem to be someone who threw a lot of parties, and we came to learn she worked for just a few clients helping them with their private and corporate events which kept her busy. This event was to be at a private home in Rhode Island and we took it as an opportunity to see a new part of New England. Only was there did we realize the island was where much of Wes Anderson’s Moonrise Kingdom was filmed. So we drove around to visit location spots, most notably, the “cove” of the place that serves as the film’s title.

The party itself only had about forty people in attendance but it was pretty elaborate and the grounds on which it was held, a private home on the water with multiple acres and buildings, was something the likes of which I’ve never seen; and I’ve spent a lot of time around rich people. We were set up in a sort of tower structure from which we could look down on the partygoers whom one couldn’t help imagine lived very privileged lives. One never knows exactly on which side of the political equation people might be in this position but, we were in short order led to assume that these people here assembled were on the right side of politics and history. How did we know this? Because they were all incredibly nice and unassuming people. In a world where the biblical adage that it is easier for a camel to pass through the eye of the needle than it is for a rich man to enter the kingdom of heaven often rings so true, this party of people was to prove twrong that saying.

We had no idea the name of the hosts all the while we were at the party. Only by doing a bit of Google detective work the next day were our assumtions corrobarated. The host of the party was indeed a well-known, celebrated, very wealthy man of the Warren Buffet school of philanthropy where he was determined to give a great deal of his wealth away and to put it in service of others. We’ve always said that when it comes to private clients the best people in the world seem to find us and to be genuintely interested in raising their consciousness, making it a joy to help them in that aim. What we realize is that the same holds true for those who come to hire us for events. In either case we have never solicited interest but allow word of mouth and, I’d like to say, some good karma, make the referrals for us.

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

Virgo 2° (August 24)

After the way you behaved in our home a week ago today it is shocking that you have as yet not apologized. Since our first meeting where you said you were determined not to rent to a hot head, it has become clear that the hot head you fear so much is you. We already had a run in early in our residency here when, on a Memorial Day weekend, when a pipe burst in the basement, you had a complete meltdown, shouting at me and and storming off leaving us without water, only to return the next day not just apologizing but literally begging for our forgiveness. That contrite attitude and behavior didn’t last long. You have been subtly and increasingly rude and bullying since then, hinting that we are at times hard to reach or that our asking simple questions put you off. But last Monday your bullying went over the top into full-stop verbal abuse, false accusation, shaming, hostile threatening, even to the point of shouting/spitting at us not wearing a mask, while we asked you time and again to only where a mask in our home. This may be a house that you own, but it is our home, and the behavior that you exhibited is not only inexcusable it is unforgivable.

Last year, due to your negligence, I had an accident in this house, falling through the back porch which you admitted after the fact was rotted, and seriously injurying my leg. In hindsight, now I realize that you had no concern for my well-being before or in the wake of this incident; all you cared about was whether or not I was going to take legal action. Surely, had I been hurt in a way that required surgery or longterm doctor care, we would have had to address that; otherwise, I let the incident go. And yet, last Monday you (weirdly, as if you were having a break with reality) accused me of threatening legal action which never happened. If you can show me any evidence of that in my correspondence to you please do—you can’t. You also accused me of slamming the back door of our house “in your face” and when we once again addressed this—you wrote me on the day you heard the door slam and we already told you it was surely the wind and you offered to bring over a doorstop which we said we didn’t need—you alternately called us liars then said it happened when “Lynne was traveling.” Well Lynne was here the day you texted about the door slamming, and I immediately shared your text with her asking if the door had slammed—she was under headphones and said she hadn’t heard anything. And yet you brought it up again in your rage of last Monday.

The truth is you were in a rage of your own making. You showed up to replace our broken refridgerator in a huff. Your stormed around telegraphing how angry you were, trying to switch out the refridgerator on your own, which seemed a foolish thing to do. You were angry at yourself we can only guess because you didn’t measure doors before taking them off their hinges, trying to get the refridgerator in the house. You had texted me from the road to say to move my car, which I did, but then you didn’t pull into the driveway where you indicated so I simply asked, didn’t you want to use the driveway, referring to your text to move the car. You said you wrote after that which, if you had, you didn’t send. I simply said oh I didn’t receive another text from you at which time you completely flew off the handle berating me for texting you that weekend to say our fridge was broken, screaming at me that I shouldn’t be texting you—that I should physically try to find you outside as I “knew” you were out there. I said I did not. I woke up late that morning to find Lynne sitting on the porch, already, for a couple of hours reading. The first thing she told me was that the fridge was broken. I texted you then went about my business filling the car and going to the dump and shopping. I waited a few hours and you hadn’t texted back so I texted you a heads up to my earlier email and you said you’d come over. What you didn’t say was that you had received that earlier text and had chosen not to answer it. That you were already angry for some reason. And all of this, too, came out in our faces in our home where you verbally assaulted us. You threatened, also, to kick us out of our home. I said you were going to feel bad about the way you were treating us and that you would regret treating us in this manner and that only angered you all the more. You didn’t replace the front door but instead boarded it up. It will be a week since we are living without a front door.

 

The following blocks of text are exceprts from my first year of  Blagues, nos. 736-740. 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.  

In my endeavor to catch up on these Blague entries (I have another month to go before I can get to the desired one a day) it’s nice to hit the milestone of Taurus while we are actually still in the sign of Taurus.

Here today on the East Coast it is really hot hot hot outside. One of the bummers of our climate is we tend to go from Winter to Summer with very little Spring in between. Meanwhile the less extreme seasons of Spring and Autumn are my favorite, Autumn probably my absolute. I always considered my preference for Autumn to be akin to my favorite color being green, or my love of auburn hair (my own having long lost the reddish bit, leaving me with just a silver reminder of what used to be there).

As a small child in Jersey City we used to have soot showers. That’s right. There was a nearby factory or something and sometimes soot would fall from the sky like black snow flakes, wafting down. It was very odd and frankly something I hadn’t thought about probably since the last time I witnessed one—sometimes sitting down to write a Blague without any exact idea about what that Blague might be can trigger memories of this sort. These soot showers used to happen, I recall, most, in Spring, which seemed longer when I was a kid, in no small part due to the manmade changes in our weather patterns.

There was something magical that happened to kids in Spring, which I can’t quite explain. In the city, there would come that day where bubbles and water balloons and kites and kids trying to ride bikes for the first time without training wheels, bats-and-balls, those paddles with the ball attached with a rubber band, and hopscotch, water pistols, and hulahoops, and those small pink balls one used, in cities, to play handball against a brick wall, and the two dangerous early-seventies toys called Clackers—two balls on a string you would try to make hit above and below your quick-flicking grip, only to hit yourself in the head or face—and that other gadget, a loop with a string and ball attached, where you strapped the loop around one ankle and you would try to jump over the ball as you swung it in a circular motion with said ankle, only to trip yourself and fall face first onto the pavement—all would all start to surface. Girls played elaborate patty cake and jumped rope and everyone played Red Rover and May I.

Later in the more bucolic suburbs, in addition to paper airplaines, boys would fold up paper footballs and shoot the between a buddy’s goal post—index fingers connected at the tips with both thumbs up, while girls made what I was told later in life by someone were called Cooty Cathers, little magical folded and numbered creases of paper with numbers that you manipulated with your fingers and to which you posed questions about love, for the most part. I didn’t describe this at all well. Under flaps of paper were “answers” to the questions girls would ask. Suburban girls played less patty cake it seemed and gymanstical feats seemed to replace jumping rope, but that might be Nadia Comenici’s fault. And of course little league and new gloves and mitts and such played a major part in the childhood estate of Spring. And for some reason candy seemed to be more a Spring occupation than it was in other seasons. I think that had something to do with marketing and the knowledge that kids could sneak away to candy stores more readily in the clement weather.

All this innocence and youth of Spring is very much in keeping with the blissed out pre-fall Edenic experience of the fixed-earth sign of gardeny Taurus.

====================

Living in seaside towns you see your fare share of inns and B&Bs and so forth. And there is something about the signage that can tell you something right off the bat, I find, about the personalities of the owners. If full and they hang a little NO to the left of VACANCY I take it as a polite, time-saving gesture for all involved. It’s polite enough without being cute. I hate cute. The only exception perhaps is when a shop says OPEN and then scrambles the words to read NOPE when they’re not. I can sort of deal with that. But when an inn or B&B is full and they hang the world NO to the right of the VACANCY sign, I feel we’re in for a bit of a problem. I mean there won’t be a problem because obviously I’m not entering to inquire about a room—I wouldn’t anyway; but I might subliminally steer visiting friends or strangers, even, away from some a place. Somehow that particular combination of the two words is the equivalent of the kind of 1980s joke, like, “I’m so interested in this—NOT.” It’s something Roseanne used to say as the character Roseanne on Roseanne. It’s a little dangle-y, as if there is a silent question mark after the work VACANCY? and then boom: NO, loser. It’s just a bit passive aggressive.

And then there is the more cloying passive aggresive version of the no vacancy sign which is SORRY. Really? Sorry? Are you. Why. Who asked you to be. Who says I’m disappointed? How did we jump to disappointment. It’s assuming a lot: To think you have the power to disappoint me. It’s so condescending. It might be worse than VACANCY NO now that I think about it. Like it’s so fucking great to stay at your crappy B&B. SORRY. That’s like breaking up with someone because you know they are just about to break up with you. Like I have to be shut out from staying at your crappy place and also be noble enough to let you down easy that I didn’t want to fucking stay there in the first place. God. It’s such a victimy projection. Like don’t fucking worry about it. I’m fine. I don’t need your fucking pity that I can’t stay in your lousy room with the squeaky double bed and eat your mini muffins with bad coffee in the morning. Trust me we are good.

Whatever happened to FULL. I love FULL. It’s so simple and direct. It’s the opposite of VACANCY, that would be EMPTY which wouldn’t be accurate because a place isn’t empty then full it’s filling up and then full. FILLING UP would be a cute way of saying VACANCY but, yeah, we don’t like cute so never mind. And so what—damn the parallel structure—FULL works just fine. It’s succinct and yet it feels a little friendly. It’s not assuming anything about me or asking me to feel away. It’s not like the other codependent nightmare signs. It’s just like FULL. That’s it. We’re cool. No need to discuss. I have boundaries. I wish you well. I’m not going to waste your time. Just keep looking and I wish you well. God Speed.

While on the subject of signs: I have this idea to market a two sided Provincetown Paddle whereupon, on one side it says COME HERE and on the other GO AWAY. Because after living and working in this town for quite some time what I’ve noticed is that it’s a petrie dish for polarization. And ultimately people fall into two categories—those you want or actually need to see for one reason or another on any given day OR those you are definitely trying to avoid seeing or being seen by. So I thought I would market an auction paddle. I could call it the “Provincetown People Polarization Paddle”™ I think it would sell like hotcakes.

—————————————————————————

I couple of days back I posted the monologue I wrote for Stella for the opening night of the Afterglow Festival last year. So I thought I would post my bit too although you’ll have to use your imagination a bit here because my bit relies a lot on pantomime; anyway, coming off the “polarization” theme of yesterday’s post I thought I would throw this out there because, as along with Stella’s bit, both monologues are really about how our little town at the end of Cape Cod is a microcosm of our deeply divided culture on a grand scale. Also, as we’ve changed venues this coming year and won’t be performing our own opening-night show in which we feature festival artists performing that week, I thought it a bit of an homage to the past. I am now cranking up the machinery on all aspects of the Provincetown festival, and working on a new festival for Cambridge so you might expect that much of my Blague-ing will be about the cosmic jokes I encounter in so doing. Because I always do! 

The following was performed September 12, 2016 in Provincetown:

Good evening. Thanks. Applause. Nice. Applause. I’ll Take it. If only for fitting into this tux. Seriously. Not to self: Don’t buy formal wear after completing a 30-day Bikram yoga challenge. Don’t do it. As it is Provincetonians traditionally fatten up as summer ends, like squirrels, before all the restaurants close for the season. Nice that more are staying open. Still, we are going to move the show along this year because: Oy.

So, as you can imagine, I’ve been busy putting this entire festival together—thank you—and (if they applaud: you’re going to doing a lot of applauding here tonight as nine of the fourteen festival performers are here tonight to give you a sampling of what they have in store for you this week with their individual shows, plus some special guests, right) so I’ve been busy organizing and so I don’t have any brilliant stand up prepared or spoken word or anything like that to perform—really I’ve got nothing—so I’m just going to wing it something my acting teacher—Uta—said never to do so, I don’t know I thought I’d just talk about the weather. Really because I love the weather this time of year.

It’s one of the main reasons we chose this time of year for Afterglow, you know, post summer glare. It’s my favorite time of year. I just love it. September. It’s so beautiful. The navy seas, the white caps, the perwinkle skies the bleached parchment sand and still the sunkissed skin and salty brow and the best part of all….Sweaters. Sweaters. So comfortable. And sweaters on the beach. I’m sorry but it’s so chic. Negligent chic but..and sexy so sexy, I think so sexy. Sweaters. They’re like Yankeen lingerie.

And there are fewer people. Or as Stella Starsky calls them the Ford Taurists—the day trippers—they’re gone. And that’s why this is the perfect time, too, for Afterglow, because it is so reminiscent of a summer in Provincetown, say, oh, sevent years ago when an artist, a performer, anyone could come here and have room to move, room to stretch, room to roam, room to create, room to grow and room..s to rent. Not to mention a stage on which a performer could play. So free and comfortable. September really is so conducive to “Try(ing) to Remember” a simpler, more easeful, twinkly and electric time.

And how about you are you comfortable. Yeah? Oh good. Your comfort means a lot to us especially in these times because even here over the rainbow flag in Provincetown we live in a polarized, fractured us-and-them kind of world. Yes even there are factions—mainly outside these doors, if not concurrently on other stages, but even in here we have a bit of a mix. You’re all mixed together. And we want you to feel comfortable amongst the various groups and sects and xenos—is that a word xenos?—amongst the various xenos you find yourselves.

There are our sponsors here tonight of course; and our sparklers, too; but our sponsors esepcially are easy to recognize. As they are the ones leaning in. No, literally leaning in. You would have spotted them earlier coming in, lurched forward, edging up behind you perhaps stepping on your heels a bit, giving you the old flat tire. Not really seeing you but looking over your head maybe on tip toe. Or not. It’s just that sponsors tend to be taller than other people—really, they’re taller, it’s a thing—and they would have been focused down front making a beeline to find their reserved seats in the second or third row. Not the first, no never the first—God forbid. Which I don’t really understand: when people don’t want to sit “oh no! not in the front row.” Why not? “I’d rather sit in the back.” Really? Why? You do realize that the first row is just that much closer than the second, right? We’re not Gilbert Godfriend. Nobody’s going to sledge hammer a watermelon. We’re not Blue Man Group. You don’t need a bib or a slicker. It’s not a log flume. But hey, sponsors though forard leaning, are discreet—some are even anonymous—so fine they found their seats in the second, third, fourth row and they’re happy still leaning forward on the edge of their seats some still on tiptoe, legs shaking in eager anticipation. Like parents at a children’s recital, having invested in their talent, shelled out a few clams, and they’re smiling up at me now, I see you, with your perma grins—those are going to hurt later—nodding in appreciation like the beaming bobble-headed benefacts that they are. They just want it to be good. It’s good right. It’s good. Is it good? Is it good? Is it good? Yeah. Would make a great Snapchat filter wouldn’t it. The sponsor?

And then of course there are the invited audience of townspeople here, the townsfolk if you will who hopefully left their torches on their porches. The Townies though meh they don’t really love that word, the T-word, especially when uttered by someone who isn’t one. The T-word. T for touchy. And they’re easty to spot too because they’re the ones leaning back, mainly with their legs crossed like so, arms folded, typically looking at you sidelong with just half the face, not wanting to commit, just the one eye, most liekly the left, not commiting the full gaze with the right eye no just the left and not the whole left just the corner, the outside corner, without the tear duct, just the dead corner of the eye. Like impress me. And they are strategically seated on the ends in the back on the side in case they have to make a Brexit, a quick get away without being noticed. Which by the way is rarely achieved. People who try to “slip out” always spill something or knock something over or step on someone or trip on someones handbag or especially the heavy doors here always make noise or cast light. But my favorite Brexit move is when people cross, the were seated on the end but they have to cross, and then the do that barely bent over walk through the spotlight so their giant head shadow is cast across the stage, and you get this perfect bent over cameo, going by and the person thinks somehow this makes them invisible the bending but everybody wants to know where the hunched over giant shadow head is going. But for now the Townspeople will stay, won’t you. They’ll see. Anyway this is something different, it’s something different it’s something different—the Massachusetts mantra—it’s something different and maybe they’ll like something different and spread the word, right? Right? T-people?

And the last major faction we have here tonight are passsers by, the already dinters, the strollers, mainy couples who are working that delicate mix of wine and espresso perhaps with a cognac thrown in for good measure, which is always a recipt for impulse shopping or the impromptu purchasing of show tickets. And maybe they were just passing by the box office and asked if there was a show starting and thought: Should we? Do we want to? You think? I don’t know—it’s up to you, and they just said “Okaaay, let’s do it” and then speeed-walked from the box office to the door just in time and then suddenly they were like whoa and sort of stopped startled and did that kind of deer head caught in the headlights two-dimensional heiroglphy walk, their buzz shifting, shades of buyers remorse setting in, what…is…this…where…should…we…? These all say reserved. Those have weirdly smiling people in them those others have are-they angry people in them. Where do we go. What do we do. Someone is yes that guy is waving he is waving at us is he waving at us. Us? He’s nodding and pointing to tow seats. Two seats? You want us to ok—go quick, go quick before someone else…ok this is fine. And then it begins. “Is my bag, where should I put my bag, is it safe on the back of my no I can put it on the floor is the floor clean is it sticky no it’s okay but what if someone spills a drink I think I’ll just hold it, I’ll hold it, I’m going to hold it. I said I’ll hold it. Is it cold? Are you cold? I can’t tell is it cold? Maybe I’ll put my shall should I oh you’re warm? are you warm? do you want to take that off? I can hold your…or…I can pull your sleeve. I don’t know should I get a wait waiter what what’s happening is he talking to me again is he talking to me are you talking to me? Yes.

Because this is opening night….

==================================

How to speak on the subject of nothingness: The day was devoid of meaning, there was nothing to discuss, the televised news headlines were the same as last night’s, it was toast as usual, today, with almond butter and honey, not miso-tahini sauce. Alas, it was a no-nonsense day, with varied purposes being personfied in beings moving too and fro, like birds, in the morning.

There was beauty; there always is. But today it had a special spark suggesting something significant might happen. Use of simile, unawares. And somewhere via something else a corner of the mind awakes from long sleep not hindered by worry and longing. There was poetry, too. Somehow, inside ones head, verse was heard, sounding like voiced by Laurence Olivier, which inspired Kenneth Branagh. And now, I have nothing to fear.

I asked the door to move if there were spirit here and it didn’t. So I know that it is just me. And before I exercise license I must feel, and that is near impossible. Of inspiration take a sip and swallow. Make of yourself vehicle and vessel. It’s uncomfortable but it gets the lead out. Golden years, gold, whop whop whop

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