olden instructional films

and the correct order

– for introducing everyone

– opening rolls to butter

– resting your not-in-use knife

– greeting your date’s clothing

– zig zag eating vs. continental

– separate the sediment by pour

– never cover the gun arm

one fine thing for another


I made a storm.
Before that, on the table, the new widower punctured my limbs and ears, drew blood at the third eye. He left me to align and later held my neck and asked me what I saw. I told him, an expanse of tall grasses blowing on a white-cloud clear day, but I was on one side of a short wooden rod fence. An Eastern Bluebird appeared in my left hand and seemingly near death, discombobulated. Suddenly a worm appeared in its beak, and if flew off, revived. I hopped the low fence and began walking through the expanse of grass. My dead dog was with me. It felt futile, just grass forever.
Resigned to it, but then a lion. A massive male lion walking to me, conveying protection, as a familiar. It lead me to a tree I climbed to rest. I picked and ate the tree’s fruit in the shade. Satisfied, it left to hunt, returning with a bloody muzzle. It slept under the tree.
We awoke and kept walking, but just grasslands. The other dog joined us. I tell the lion the dog isn’t food and the lion accepts this, leading us on. There are more of us now, but I wonder if this is just it, forever, the same landscape.
Later, I see a well under a tree. I pull up the rope up. Inside a bucket is midnight blue silk cloth. I lower it again and draw up a silver spoon. I think of my Grandfather. Again, and this time it’s a green frog inside the bucket. I put the items in a hip pouch and lower it once more. A yellow canary or goldfinch rides up on the side of the bucket and flies away.
That night I turn on a show. In it, a woman walks out of the exact house I dreamed that I owned, over a year ago.

Last night I made a storm outside that cracked at the ground and shook the houses like shoulders. Went to bed sweeping at the sky for the breeze to break heat, and rain so I wouldn’t have to water. Weather is not stubborn.

Sun in Scorpio

I mean, as long as we must be here – our emotional innards scraped raw and smooth like a pumpkin’s hollow – we might as well use it.

While I work now, I watch different versions of Wuthering Heights. I’m trying to watch them all. There are a lot. I’m looking for something, but I’m not sure what. It’s something about younger me, something that slipped off and fell. I’m trying to figure something out, methodically tendriling through the floor of a dark lake, searching for something rare I lost. I’m not sure what. A will or a desire or a spark, perhaps.

One of the times I miscarried early, I was alone on the floor, losing it, writhing in pain. Both of my dogs stood over me. The one, the small one, the Pisces Moon, concerned and tending me, the other, staring at me, her will and force telling me to get the fuck up.

I didn’t read Wuthering Heights until my late 20s which was like reading under a spotlight just turned on, angels trying to teach me something, pushing my head closer to the page, saying ‘learn.’ Wuthering Heights should never feel autobiographical, and, one should never have to consider the cost, decades later, a cautionary tale you arrived at too late to heed. What was dropped in the process of faith and karma, twinning and isolation, toxicity.

This protracted Scorpio season due to Venus’ retrograde through, then Mercury, now the Sun, has stretched our emotional excavation past a short season into an extended exhumation. Denying the work would only leave us lingering in ignorance later, less transformed, less faceted than we might shape ourselves now. That doesn’t mean it’s emotionally without cost. Excavating in the dark means we’re residing there, feeling our way versus seeing any dangers. We need to go back for everything we forgot, pick it up, or at least gather it so that no one else can have it without our consciously sharing.

Simon the Good

– – Joyelle McSweeney

I’m the matron-king of hell
In yoga pants and a disused bra for a laurel
& shatter the scene inside your simmering year
Like a ransom scene filmed through shattered transom
I smear in my glamour
I make as if
to justify the ways of God to man
That’s my ticket in
That’s why God lets me speak here
on his couch
Even though I’m derived from Hell
Hellish Helenish Hellenic
I’m the hanged man
in this version
pegged up
in mine pegged jeans
by mine ancles, an inversion
mine manacles are monocoles
I spit out the key
and squinny through the keyhole
back at the unquittable world
In my rainment
of gummy sunglasses
and crows wings for epaulets
I delicately squawk from the edges of things
balance unsteadily on the bust of the goddess
Aeschelus Euphorion Aeschelus Euphorion
I’m going to tell you something so bad that when you hear it you’re gonna know it’s true.
Like all the worst stories
It comes from the heart
& it goes there too.
Back here in St. Joseph County
a struck duck flies crown first into the asphalt and is stuck there
with its brains for adhesive
like someone licked the pavement and sealed it
a postalette
with its cartoon feet in the air and its Jeff Koon wings
that’s roadkill for you: realer than real
and the cars mill by with their wheels in reverse
heavy as chariots
in a dealership commercial
and I am walking my dog by the river
a matron from hell
look on me and despise
I am like the river:
thick as beer and with a sudsy crown
there polyethylene bags drape the banks like herons
and a plastic jug rides a current with something like the determination
that creases mine own brow
as I attempt to burn my lunch off
the determination of garbage
riding for its drain
hey-nonny it’s spring
and everything wears a crown
as it rides its thick doom to its noplace
gently brushed
by pollen
by the wings of hymenoptera
like a helicoptera
performing its opera
all above Indiana
bearing the babes away
from their births to their berths
in the NICU in Indie-un-apple-us
Unapple us, moron God,
You’ve turned me Deophobic
the greasy tracks you leave all over the internet
the slicey DNA
in the scramblechondria
the torn jeans
panicked like space invaders
in an arcane video game
oh spittle-pink blossom
the tree don’t need nomore
shook down to slick the pavement like a payslip
you disused killer app
each thought strikes my brain
like the spirals in a ham
pink pink for easter
sliced by something machinic
each thought zeros in
flies hapless and demented
festooned like a lawn dart
finds its bit of eye
spills its champagne
split of pain
then we come to our senses
suddenly alone
in the endzone

post, eclipse

8 Strength, Vertigo Tarot
favorite card from the Vertigo deck, which i’ve had forever and never use

I always like to think I’m sitting eclipses out when I don’t have a lot of activity in the houses they are occurring in. I never am. It’s never true. I did get through that New Moon Cancer one in early July pretty easily, but in general, I always, always rue that thinking. What a shocking, but also amazingly verdant and unfolding few days.

Things I’ve learned include:

  • EMDR is strong fucking medicine, and now I’ve had cause to see how far reaching and transformative that work can be, how it can work when you dearly need it to. As trauma healing modalities go, by far one of the most potent.
  • Related: no matter the context, men showing how they can soft-land combination punches on your head, face, and body and ultimately render you powerless, is always vibrantly ignorant and tone-deaf, and always requires divorcing from logic the fact that the woman in front of them has almost surely experienced assault and or trauma (conservative numbers, 1 in 3). You aren’t showing us anything we don’t know. You are just re traumatizing and entirely part of the problem.
  • People are hereby paying me to talk with me about tarot and astrology, which my friends are surely breathing a collective sigh of relief about.
  • The riskiest thing I do is go running in wooded areas alone with headphones on and I will not give it up.
  • I’m writing a sprawling essay about the indulgence of obsessive grief. I don’t know what will come of it or if I’ll end up abandoning it, but it’s the best thing I’ve written in a while. It’s an idea I lived for a long time, by grace was able to move out of, and now look at from a distance. I don’t know if Candace coined the term, but I’m betting she talks about it in the podcast with Sarah, here, which I still need to listen to. And, I’m betting I interpret it pretty differently than she does.
  • I dance exactly the same way as I did and always have. In a way, it’s such a relief to know. Like learning I can still fluently speak a first language I never have occasion to use. And, ‘Strict Machine’ by Goldfrapp will always get me to any dance floor, sidewalk, tiny clearing of floor space, at anytime, always.
  • Related, I have no idea how I used to dance for 4-5 hours straight, 2-3 times a week.
  • Tiny, ash colored spiders keep dropping onto me.
  • Everything is shifting.

Anyone who needs a single podcast that will rock you: This is as controversial as tarot gets; this is strong medicine, tarot related or not. These are a lot of things a lot of people don’t want to hear but are true. It’s partly why I don’t believe in, or practice, predictive tarot and it’s why I don’t do ‘Does he / she love me?!’ tarot questions… those are the wrong questions.

Other podcasts of note: Inside Jaws. Ear Hustle.





break out the peaches

I have thoughts and feelings about this,

and of course, this…

though I have surprisingly few thoughts about these eclipses (Merc Rx is tomorrow), followed by the doozy Aquarius Full Blood Moon, total lunar eclipse on the 27th. But boy-howdy are my pals and community feeling this. I have a legit queue of people waiting to talk to me about their natal charts and what-ever-in-the-world is going on. Hang in there, cuties… we are half way through eclipse season.

Horoscopes (just scroll down after the click) and thoughts from Chani Nicholas, on the astro of this week.  This is all really insightful and well written. 

Here is a perky spread I made for part of my astro class final, for this eclipse on the 27th.


(And, the Sun is in Leo now you all… in case your resident Leo hasn’t already reminded you. 25 times. And guess what, their birthdays are coming up. But I bet you knew that too… Make like a Leo; be bold, let your gifts shine!)



I’ve been too busy to watch through much of anything, aside from the giant nest of high school instructional films from the 40’s I was joyfully lead to and keep on while I’m working, but in honor of these golden age of TV announcements, let’s rewatch the finest fight scene ever to grace TV… which is always, wow. And ewwww.  (cw: graphic faux violence depictions…)

uranus, taurus

Tomorrow, Uranus moves into Taurus, after 7 years in Aries. And, the new moon on the same day is also happening in Taurus… that’s a massive new tide. It’s the first and one of the only major astrological moves happening this year.

A bit about the planet’s function first… Innovative Uranus is the strong impulse for rebellion, independence, and even shock. Exciting, unexpected, and liberating, Uranus will overturn anything traditional, conventional or orthodox that it deems has outlived its usefulness… Since Uranus also holds sway over social change, it also regulates the global brotherhood of man and all humanitarian concerns, including environmental issues. 

I’ve always thought of Uranus as Tesla – the man, not the brand – thinking and creating something(s) so unexpected and radical, communal, overhauling whole schools of thinking and moving the world forward in leaps. Of course the culture pushes back, stirred from it’s complacency, but it can’t unsee.

Now a bit about Taurus… Taurus the sign of earth, nature, sensuality, traditions, finance, luxury, food, work, art & beauty, values. I think of Taurus as Orson Wells – an unbelievably brilliant artist – a genius, a virtuoso summing up and aesthetically challenging his time, instinctive, successful, but ultimately (later) overindulgent, hedonistic, and obstinate. Sorta sloppy at the end — the shadow side of unchecked Taurus.


Uranus is an outer, transpersonal planet. Like Pluto, much of the work Uranus does is cultural — broad strokes (versus the personal planets closer to the earth, such as Mercury and Venus). Think of how in 2011, when Uranus moved to Aries, Kardashianism, tumblr, and selfies were just starting to reach an apex. Everyone’s parents and grandparents finally got on Facebook. The broadly named ‘Arab Spring’ was in full swing and it felt like a new protest or demonstration in the middle east was happening each day.

uranus, photo: loupi_nou

Uranus is departing Aries and Aries is the sign of the warrior, of the self… Me-ness, and self advocacy and self focus. While many roll their eyes at the idea of celebrity-for-no-real-reason, self study through the eyes of others has its place, especially for young women who have been denied self-hood in myriad ways for thousands of years. Many artists, including Cindy Sherman and Francesca Woodman (to name just a couple), taught us that. We have to understand how we are in the world — the identity of our self — that is encountering the world.

Uranus in Aries also saw the cultural impact of the outer planet resonate with the start of protests in the US around the Occupy Movement, Ferguson, Women’s March, RESIST, #metoo, etc., protests about holding the culture accountable to how it impacts individuals and therefore non-dominant communities.

Apply those functions to Taurus – sign of nature and its resources – and suddenly things like the shift in focus to water rights, Flint drinking water crisis, the volcano Kilauea, begin to set the tone of the transit. (The 2011 tsunami in Tōhoku Japan happened right before Uranus moved into Aries.) Now apply that kind of transformation and addressing of long standing issues to the self, and we can begin to understand how this transit might impact us culturally, and personally. What will be revealed are opportunities to dramatically overhaul our emotional status quo, transform long-standing issues and bad habits, and forge entirely new ground by unearthing new beliefs and philosophies, all related to the house this is happening in for you.

And to look more closely at the personal impact of Uranus in Aries, think of what was going on in your life in spring of 2011, when Uranus last changed signs… what is different? How are you different now? What was your emotional tone 7 years ago and what did a day in your life look like? What were the most significant events through those years?

Look up what house Uranus was transiting in your chart —  (I love this site b/c it defaults to whole house system, and shows current transits on the outer edge. Just start entering your birth city where it says Sydney, AUS) see what house Aries occupies. This will reveal which themes and narratives Uranus was impacting these last 7 years, and what running themes will be taking attention these next 7 years for you, in Taurus.

For me, Aries is my 12th… the house of death, self-undoing, subconscious, suffering… or so it’s called. I find it to be the house of psychology and our shadow selves – the decisions we make and how they impact us in ways we didn’t imagine. Ultimately, for me, everything that had to die — relationships, jobs, situations, friendships, beliefs, habits, did die. I leave that transit a distillate of myself, far more purely me than 7 years ago, but chrysallis-ing, with no excess. I am wholly pared down and what I hold close, is fiercely held. There’s no surplus — everything that was supposed to leave me, did. What was built on false, weak soil atrophied itself, removed itself, withered off. What’s left is: of the self, as the self, mine.

From, ‘The History and Antiquities of the Deanery of Craven in the County of York

It’s curious then to now see the focus shift to Taurus and my first house of self, the house of my ascendant. What I know is that in 7 years time, I will likely not be very recognizable. My self will be transformed into new, and the nature of Uranus means that the changes will be innovative and unexpected. I’d imagine the places I’ve always been pushing for – living off grid in a wooded area or living abroad in Bruges or Malmö, but the nature of Uranus means the changes will likely not be ones that were able to be imagined.

Note: I just read this by Gray Crawford and turns out I was right about Tesla, whose natal Uranus was in Taurus… at least my instincts are spot on! It’s a great, insightful piece about the significant, cultural tides created by this transit.

A tarot spread I scrawled – hopefully helpful to begin conceiving of this transit.



fierce nascency

My beautiful, dear one reminded me that when in any doubt, return to the basics, and do not forget them. That was right before she took my child outside in the sun and taught him to hold stones closely, cast his wishes into them, and bury them so that the earth can work.

It has been a year of the very best friends.

bruja magic

Current celestial intensity. Plus, Mars and Saturn’s current antics led to these dreams… A man who seemed to be on drugs or simply raging, cut a woman’s face on a sidewalk. As she slumped down, he began looking for another victim. A man near me was bent fixing his bike and the knife wielder approached him. I was walking away to find help, but realized the man with the bike was about to get harmed so I moved closer, trying to prevent it, but the man slashed out with his knife. As I got to the victim, the perpetrator seemed to be moving to cut him again, but saw me and moved his attention. I began speaking to him like a friend, saying, ‘oh can you get some cloth and help me with this man’s wounds?’ trying to throw him off and emotionally shake him to. He was confused, then started towards me seemingly to cut me as well.

The next dream began. I was leaving an event or maybe work at night, in a city. It was busy on the street and a man with what looked like a smallish battery-powered (?) circular hand saw was threatening people on the street, grabbing them, threatening to cut them, then letting them go. I was debating what to do. Then suddenly he took the saw to himself, right across his stomach. He crumpled over, blood everywhere, people freaked out. I walked quickly away, shocked. I didn’t want to have to talk to the police about it for hours, having to relive it. I tried to call a friend to pick me up, but couldn’t get through. I was walking through a part of the city I didn’t know and accidentally walked into someone’s private property. I didn’t see the ‘no trespassing’ sign until I was already inside. I started back towards the exit, but the occupants were coming in — several large men in hunting or military type clothes with large dogs. I figured I would be attacked, and I started apologizing for being there, but they were understanding about it. One took my bag off my shoulder and showed me a way to stretch to relax after the scene I had fled. He told me to look up at the stars while stretching and it would be more effective.These are the Mars-iest, Saturn-iest, Capricorn-iest dreams possible.

astrology of mid-life chiron & what jupiter rx wants

The best example of Aries in action is currently seen across media… the young women who are survivors of mass school shooting speaking fiercely, honestly, and holding accountable the entire country, in front of an audience of thousands of activists and protesters. It’s so Aries-in-action to watch, it’s breathtaking. Children holding our culture’s terminal apathy accountable, righteous anger peppered with ferocity, correct, outraged youth.

Jupiter’s retrograde in Scorpio has a role here too. Jupiter is a planet that enlarges everything it touches or passes through. Jupiter through Scorpio (coupled with Mars which finally left the sign) is what gave us #metoo and the deluge of finally illuminated truth-tellings and stories of assaults perpetrated by scores of high profile men last year. It’s given us people speaking and living their truth, releasing it from shadowy places, finally. Scorpio is liminal, where painful secrets, hurt, and anger reside – feelings and subjects we as a culture consider taboo.

Think back to November of last year when the Sun was also in Scorpio. How much did we learn about those around us and our own truth? What was brought to light that had previously been just a resonant subtext? Jupiter still in Scorpio, continues to pluck that string in a big way and on a grand scale. What have we changed since then? Jupiter’s current retrograde in Scorpio says that we aren’t done yet, facing what’s true, unpleasant, difficult, and desperately needing to be addressed, both personally and culturally.

Whether #metoo or outraged shooting survivors or our own realizations about our ability to look at our own emotional shadows , Jupiter is saying, ‘Yeah not so fast. I’m not leaving until I’m sure you can’t deny this any longer. You can’t unsee.’

A note about the 12th house — I’ve been asked by a few friends recently to explain the mysterious 12th house. It’s been called the ‘house of suffering,’ ‘house of self-undoing,’ ‘house of subconscious,’ house of death.’ It’s the house where we face ourselves, whether we want to or not and whether we are aware of it or not — where we are our own worst enemies or create narratives about ourselves and our lives that we cling to, even when they are outdated, preventing our own real happiness and growth, sort of like emotional and psychic security blankets. Comfy, same or similar, safe choices that ultimately work against us.

No matter what sign is in this house, trying to understand it will probably feel like trying to grab at fistfuls of fog. What the 12th house wants you to know is likely functioning like a rider on the other running themes in your life, asking to be addressed by the choices that we actively make towards our fulfillment and wholeness, instead of our stagnation and undoing.

pablo neruda.

A lot about Chiron returns after the clicky click

Read More »

dreaming, during transit saturn

…conjunct natal Venus (which is opposite natal Saturn), square natal Pluto… It’s like noble Venus is being constantly hollered at in both ears by relentless drill-sergeant Saturn, and Pluto is shouting up: “Heeeey, I can just tear it all down if you want!”. Not helpful, Pluto, but I feel you.

The Moon through Pisces and Cancer was emotionally intense. And, so much is still in Pisces (Sun, Nept, Venus, Merc. and Chiron), all trampling over my natal Moon in Pisces, conjunct Jupiter (and both planets are square Neptune {which my north node sits in exact conjunction} in my stellium sign and house… yeah. Let that sink in, chart readers!). Even I was impressed by how much my subconscious self decided to shut down last month. After a cold, I developed some sort of extremely painful rib lining and sternum inflammation (?) I had never heard of, got a bunch of needles and rolfing which only slightly helped, and ended up staying home for over a week until I could breathe deeply and move my right side. It cleared up, but I can see now it created a strange pocket for me to totally check out. I just read, researched, and slept and played with my kid. That part was kind of a dream, minus the sparking white pain while breathing.

I probably shouldn’t grouse. A few days ago was a lovely, surprising dream. But Saturn is nearly conjunct Venus now… I’ll be deeply relieved when this transit eases and planets leave Pisces. We folk of the Pisces Moon are a very singular sort. A lot is written about us. Astrologers respond soberly when they find out. And, having so many planets though the sign is kind of our worst Piscean fear — like a spontaneous, gregarious party appears in your house and will not leave and will not allow you to leave.

3/4/18 – dream notes

living in or visiting an apartment in a neighborhood that reminded me a bit of Kensington, in London. I was walking at night and saw a house between two others had been demolished, debris cleared. In its place, like a full-scale placeholder, someone had built a house from rich black earth — stairs, stoop, second floor, columns and all. They even gave the facade a beveled art deco detail. It made me think of how beautiful it would be if everything started growing from it, but also, how it might be like a sand castle, but from earth. It was solid and gorgeous. I wanted to show you. I was sad I didn’t have a camera.  

I went back the next day, but it was gone. A new, boring building, a 3 story walk up trying to look authentically old, but super phoned in had been put up in the meantime. I was totally disappointed, but not surprised.

I went to an historic, indoor arcade which was supposed to be a local attraction, but it was super small… only 1 skee-ball alley, and 3 bumper cars that couldn’t get enough space to work up any speed. Some kids were trying to use them. There were 2 llamas outside that I could see through an open dutch door. The woman running it seemed like she had been doing it a long time. 

As I was leaving, I saw several felt feathers affixed to an interior column, like someone had made them and posted them up. I was drawn to the white one, but also a striking cobalt, and a rich rust. She told me I could take one. I put the white one in my pocket.

I started walking home. I thought to ask you if you had seen someone make the earthen buildings before, but knew I had no way. And then, my fingers fell off. I gathered them with my palms and put them in my coat, hoping I would later be able to get them back on. 

Screenshot 2018-03-05 23.57.01
Pisces miniature. Gaius Julius Hyginus, 64 BC – AD 17, NYPL.

journal notes 1/9/18

I write, Sitting in the Vietnamese Restaurant

an astrologer worked my chart. tapped: this, this improbable lattice, where does this much go, taps the moon, jupiter – it shrugs my shoulders

brushed or bashed in transits. a fly on the neptune, moth on your moon — the fine trembling resulting. a consequence along the wire, numen or flare.

*raises vow* all my dreams are and always have been buildings houses or water.

Do you have to have the dreams. I’ve kept them, some days I guess I will not ever tell you.

How to accept, Pluto, Pluto in my pets, in my health, in my daily routines.

A truck passes: Rental Repairs. Motto: “Our name says it all.”

Don’t ask for anything else.

A sublime sun, just after the winter cusp, white golding off glass. I’ve gone so long without my eyes water back at it, grow the lazing strobe. My corneas prism a holy pattern, seraphic.

I know one dream is the water, your hand pulling me. Another, blue moths pulse.

I count up every patron, study first dates, the friend dates, all of us at the solo table staring, shooting lit information at our faces. Crow-like risings, one after the other off a line, kiting our bodies on the day.

In my favorite poems, women walk outside and see every color. They are given the spectrum and immediately cast it.

I see this. My child’s face veiled clear emerald and plum, marbled yellow. My skin polychromatic, gone kaleidoscopic, all verdance and grow back, rhizomes splitting shoots and everything pressing out now now now.