Moments of limbo Not much happening, although I have been writing my own stuff in scraps first thing. But limboish moments bring out my inner astrologer, which is not a good thing as living your life by the stars is buffoonish. But I can't help noticing that Mercury the planet of communications, Mars and Saturn are all in retrograde motion. For astrologers this points to miscommunication and the undoing of deals and agreements, which chimes with what's going on now. Still, Lorraine had some excellent job news. And in the evening Dawn came around armed with chocolate cake, and Lorraine cooked a lovely curry and we all sat about very happily shooting the breeze. Dawn living with a friend at the moment, before buying a new place. She is experiencing the anticlimax of having sold her old place, moved everything out but not yet moving in somewhere new. More limbo. I am very fond of Dawn and Lorraine loves her.
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Under Saturn Up early to supervise the blokes taking away a dead sofa, bookcase, manky mattress and so on. Then noticed the liquid nails hadn't worked. I had placed heavy things on a piece of metal in the floor, and it simply sprang merrily back up after I took them off. Feeling curiously twitchy today. Adding itself to my list of ailments is now a form of diarrhea and hyochondria especially when I read my horoscope and it said that I had to watch my health due to the draining effect of the conjunction of Saturn with my natal sun which happens once every thirty years. Astrologers would say that many of the tiresome things that have been happening lately are due to this. Many others would say that I need to get a life and stop looking at horoscopes. I went instead to the Twitten and let myself into the house. The radio was on so I realised Dawn was doing some work there. I changed into my work clothes, and then heard Dawn locking the door and being unable to get in. I began shouting...
And the stars look down A decent run at my manuscript this morning, then a few calls. Including with Mum. In the afternoon I left home on an astrological matter, passing a massive dead television left in the twitten. I met Diane, Reuben's mum, in my usual cafe. She had asked me to look at her horoscope, which I did although I have officially retired as an astrologer. It is an odd PK fact that when I went through my Marxist warehouse hand phase, shortly after I left university, that I had a sideline as a professional astrologer. I had taught myself how to cast horoscopes in my teens (which now can be done in a split second on sites like astrodienst ) and consulted various reference books to write accounts of people's birthcharts. In my experience when you accurately cast someone's horoscope it can seem accurate, though I think it would be a big mistake to live your life by it. Still, it felt very Brightonish to be discussing things like the nature of rising signs and the i...
Poets, astrologers and mindful sweeping Dragged my butt to the quack - who was in a cheery mood, told me there was a lot of it about, and gave me antibiotics to cure The Ears, which are painfully bunged up and howling with tinnitus. My brain is working a bit better however. I printed out my poems and shuffled them about, although I am finding it hard to see the wood for the trees. I also read some Yeats, and Ted Hughes - and quite enjoyed this. As someone who briefly, and not lucratively, cast people's astrological birth charts for a living, I am interested in how astrology has influenced poetry. W.B. Yeats was of course interested in all things occult. For example on honeymoon he forced his wife Georgie to conduct bouts of automatic writing: to go into trances and channel spirits and write down what they said. Bizarrely, the results were used as source material for a book of occult systems called A Vision . A Vision's systems are essentially quite astrological. There are house...