The momenta blisstasmal dissolution is upon us!
Aquarius tossed us up in the stark, lightnin’ bolt air — an’ now Pisces gonna drop us deep into the Zodiac’s most expansively creative waters.
Gotta thinka all those movies you seen where the hero is drugged or concussed or under the influencea sum reality-shiftin’ hex.
There are shadows an’ shapes, an’ plentya sensual textures that feel like they are merged with evrythin’ you got insideya, an’ even thoughya kinda recognize summa what is gowin’ on, the experience — in alla its soul-caressin’ haze — kinda never hangs together, like your life is bein’ blended by sum deliciously benevolent alchemist.
We gonna plunge together into this eternal outta-phase sargasso an’ drift free in a blur, kissin’ on one another with no clue where our frickin’ lips jus’ went.
Lotsa stuff you been thinkin’, feelin’ an’ doin’ gonna mooshie downta nonsense, like that dull throbba HWWWSSSHHH ya hear inya ears whenya are underwater.
Listen hard, an’ you gonna hear how this ambient an’ seemingly relentless sound got the germa all possibility swooshyin’ up insidea its white noise NUTHIN’.
All sensation gonna be this way — evrythin’ comin’ gonna be super gestatory, like floaty jellyfish suspended in the murk — an’ when the Pisces deal is done, an’ the Spring Equinox flares outta Aries’ asshole, these beautifully amorphous shapes creatin’ themselves insideya gonna slooshie outta the water an’ walk on land as naive an’ darin’ creatures hellbent on life.
Evrythin’ swills round in the deepest waters right now, beyond definition, beyond boundaries, beyond riska drownin’.
Evrythin’ dissolves as of the weekend.
So you got one mission an’ one mission only for the next few weeks:
Allowyaself to be consoomed, gazmoliciously intoxicated.
(An’ I would wanna say to any minors readin’ — or anyone survived the 60s without bein’ turnedta poisoned ash — this is not an edict from on astrological high to go mix it up with mind-bendo narcotics cos I am speakin’ metaphorically here, an’ even if I wasn’t, YOU DO NOT NEED ANYA THAT STUFF RIGHT NOW COS PISCES IS SWEET AN’ KIND AN’ HER ILLUSIONS NEVER GONNA HURTYA.)
Gotta figure next few weeks we gonna be on a creative an’ emotionally supple roll, with no target to aim for other than total abandonment to the moment.
“We are as virgins before emerging dreams, sages before unfolding mysteries, visionaries before spill and shimmer of pure existence.”
See? I jus’ made sumthin’ up already.
An’ — miraculously — it is even in frickin’ English!
Wanna jus’ say also that from Monday 27th, this blog gonna be a regular fixture in an implausibly mutable Cosmos fluxin’ out on eternal change an’ uncertainty.
What this means for you, sweet observera wonders, is that you got a safe an’ dependable harbor whereya can set down anchor evry Monday an’ soak up my wise astrological counsel.
Got sum cool Fire stuffs juicin’ away in my vestibule, an’ we can prolly all rely on Mother Cosmosis to bowl us a whole buncha synchronized planetary swimmo gonna suggest zodiac-type themes an’ provoke filosophical discussions.
Also — rely on Moi to jus’ go make shit up.
That sound like a plan you want in on?
Gotta hope so, cos remember — I got no toad gonna keep me company in my secret sanctum.
All I got is stars — an’ also right now a kinda salad-themed wrap with sum sorta salami in it, dunno what it is.
I am such a frickin’ loser, tellya.