Category: Writings

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Astrology Charleston, West Virginia men Writings

James’s Slut Transit (Pluto opposite Venus)

One cool thing about astrology is you get so caught up in the symbolism that by the time you catch your husband in bed with a dwarf you are practically happy about it.

Oh my god- this is perfect! The dwarf had red hair! They were doing anal!! Can you think of anything better for Uranus in Aries?!?

The past year or so James (husband) has been having a transit which is supposed to make men irrationally attracted to skanky hoes who express something of their own repressed sexuality.

Since I had been majorly shook by a number of transits in the past 10 years, I wasn’t in the mood for the stars to defeat me again. I decided to take the bull by the horns and announce that he was entering a slut transit on facebook. (Sometimes I imagine that telling enough people about something BEFORE it happens will magically keep it from occurring.) And every day since then, I’ve asked him “So have you felt attracted to any skanks yet? Any nasty hoes caught your eye?” Occasionally I will drop a reminder that anyone he likes during this time probably has a cocktail of STDs as well, which is true. (Unless they have a prison record or are a geologist.)

And so far, I have not sensed any attraction to cumdumpsters. This transit (Pluto opposite Venus) has to work through the unconscious. If the idea of sexual obsession with Jezebels is put into the forefront of his mind and linked to a transit, it makes it harder for the dark magic to occur.

So yay, I outsmarted the stars.

Still it’s almost hard not to feel disappointed that the transit didn’t go as planned. All his other transits- in which I did not interfere- were textbook. But this time I prepared myself, made public announcements and now he is basically standing me up at the altar. I had mentally set aside a couple years of life to wage this war on skanks and now there are no skanks in sight. Never a quitter, I eventually started encouraging him. Why don’t you friend some skanks on facebook? Maybe you’d enjoy a trip to the gentlemen’s club? But no. Being a slut because your wife wants you to isn’t Pluto’s way. The taboo is what arouses him. He wants to defy people’s expectations to show them- and himself- that he can’t be controlled. He wants to do something which will make others hate him or cause him to hate himself.

But why, Pluto, why?

For starters, Pluto is the planet of intensity. Sometimes we cut off so much from our darker self that we just start to feel less alive. Sometimes a journey to the dark side is just what it takes to tap into deeper wells of life and emotion. Feeling negative emotions can be preferable to feeling nothing at all.

Secondly, Pluto goes dark to gain power. Nice guys finish last. Pluto crosses lines other people aren’t willing to cross and reaps the rewards. During Pluto transits he challenges us to question our own boundaries. Are we willing to sacrifice one pound of goodness to gain 5 pounds of power? Are we willing to push our neighbor in front of a train to save a bus full of children? Many times, during Pluto transits, we realize we are.

Thirdly, Pluto does bad things to create boundaries. To show himself (and sometimes others) that he can’t be controlled. That there are no rules for him and only his own will reigns supreme.

Lastly, Pluto trespasses to expand his mind. On one level, Pluto is really about the ability to have our own mind which can function independently from the group. People with pronounced Pluto in their chart frequently seem normal on the surface, but deep in their mind is a sort of existential autonomy that the average person lacks. They see life through their own eyes and don’t need social support to trust their own perceptions. So during Pluto transits we want to question the rules we have previously taken for granted. We want to gain psychic & psychological freedom.

* * *

Basically, Pluto is our reptilian mind. It likes to operate in darkness, secretly controlling our behavior while our conscious mind is busy attributing shinier motives to ourselves. Pluto shrinks away when the light is shining directly on him. He does not want the whole world watching him, waiting for him to get an astrologically sanctioned boner.

Still, I have read enough Greek myths to know what happens to those who brag about outsmarting the fates. And there is still a year left of this transit to go. So we’ll see what happens. Maybe whores will end up having the last laugh. Just like they always do.



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Charleston, West Virginia men Politics Uncategorized Writings

Simone Biles & the Masculine Spirit

This post is not about Simone Biles dropping out midway through the Olympics gymnastics competition. I don’t have an opinion on that since I am still not clear on why she did it and have heard different reasons.

This post is about the amount of praise she is receiving for dropping out. I find this disturbing. The consensus on twitter seems to be that this is the greatest athletic accomplishment of all time. Of course, in 2021 it should come as no surprise that quitting is seen as the peak of glory. Gold medals don’t matter, victory doesn’t matter, teammates don’t matter, national pride doesn’t matter. Only ONE thing matters. The ‘mental health’ of the individual, which seems in practice to mean always doing what you feel like doing.

In reality, Biles may not have dropped out for mental health reasons. But this was her initial statement and the public ate it up like pudding. They praised her for putting emotional wellness above gold metals and antiquated concepts of national pride. They could have accepted the idea with disappointment and understanding. But instead, her withdrawal must be called the essence of bravery and courage. She put herself first. This makes her a hero. No. If we value survival at all, we must get over the idea that tending to one’s own emotions should trump all other considerations.

Things can swing too far in any direction of course and there have been times when the obsession with excellence, winning, national pride, devotion to country etc could be said to have gone too far and crushed the soft parts of the individual.

Once again, this issue comes down to masculine vs. feminine- two principles which must remain in balance. The public is taking a feminine perspective, the role of a concerned mother who cares for nothing more than the well being of her baby. If the baby withdraws & the entire Olympics crumbles to the ground, the mother does not care. What matters is her baby’s happiness. She does not want the weight of the world, the expectations of team and nation, to interfere with this. She wants to keep baby safe in a world of inner joy and nursery rhymes. This perspective on life has its place.

However…

1. If we all care about our own feelings and mental health more than the needs of the group, we don’t survive.

2. We only have the option of making our inner self top priority because someone else isn’t. We have no inherent right to stay at home writing in our journals while other people are grow our food, dig our coal and work in our journal factories. Other people aren’t our slaves and if they do the hard work which enables us to opt out of hard work we certainly owe them a debt of gratitude.

Countless people surely worked hard and sacrificed to get Simone Biles where she is. No matter who we are, people have invested in us. We can’t pretend we have no responsibility to those who fed and clothed us, who created our language, our culture, who built our homes, roads and medicines, who died in war to protect us. We owe an infinite debt to society and those who came before us. How can we receive from every direction and still feel we owe nothing to no one but ourselves?

3. To strive for victory and glory, to sacrifice for team and country is the essence of the masculine spirit. To say the Olympics doesn’t matter, that national pride doesn’t matter, that winning doesn’t matter, is- from a masculine perspective- to say that life doesn’t matter. It does.

Not only do the masculine virtues taught by sports train humans to survive and protect, they also reflect a spiritual dimension of meaning. Goals matter. Achievement matters. Excellence matters. Struggle and sacrifice matter. Being responsible to other people matters. This is where the masculine dimension of meaning comes from and what enables men to evolve spiritually. Without the virtues embodied in sports, men devolve. They turn into scary gremlins. They become a menace to society and will never find inner peace.

Males need to be burdened by expectations and responsibilities. Neither self care nor cuddles will fulfill them. They must push themselves and take risks for something which matters more than themselves. A male who believes that his inner self is the most important thing in life will become miserable. And evil.

So the striving for medals, team and nation is really a spiritual thing. It is symbolic of mind over matter. Of pushing the self to become someone who matters to the collective. Men must kill the inner self so it can be reborn as something greater. It is a process of resurrection that gets turned on its head when the inner self is turned into a god.

And so women’s sports are at a crossroads. What do we want? Do we want our sports to be a place where friendship, fun & fitness matter more than winning? That would be fine with me. I grew up in a competitive world & often felt it had a negative impact upon females. In general, women seem designed to cooperate and collaborate. Many times on the verge of victory I would throw a competition because I just didn’t want to defeat the other person. Winning didn’t seem that valuable. Maybe this is just the way women were made.

Or maybe there are enough martian women who DO want to compete with the same ferocity as men. If so, I am fine with that as well. I love it when females display masculine virtues.

However, regardless of what women decide to do we MUST NOT water down male sports to suit female sensibilities. For all the reasons stated above, men need to excel in masculine virtues. Their health depends on it. Our survival depends on it. It is males possessing excellent masculine qualities rather than degenerative ones which keeps society safe and strong.

If females find male values too harsh, then we can operate in separate spheres where different rules apply. Currently people insist that men and women MUST play the same game. But women find the rules harsh. So we try to change them. When we could just drop out of that man game and play one of our own. But whatever we decide, the male realms must remain intact. Hard & proud. Unadulterated. Our survival depends on it.

Never ever undermine that which makes your life possible. The first law of the jungle.



NOW this is the Law of the Jungle — as old and as true as the sky;
And the Wolf that shall keep it may prosper, but the Wolf that shall break it must die.

As the creeper that girdles the tree-trunk the Law runneth forward and back —
For the strength of the Pack is the Wolf, and the strength of the Wolf is the Pack.

-Rudyard Kipling




Categories
Astrology Charleston, West Virginia Writings

Hi Again

(Warning- slight reference to astrology. Does this bother people who know nothing about astrology? Personally, I never mind a few indigestible references, but I don’t know if others- especially men- feel the same.)

I haven’t been able to express anything in a while. I’ve written about 50 blog posts but have not been able to publish any of them due to this feeling that everything I say is completely pointless. So, I thought maybe I would take some time off to become more presidential & then go back to expressing myself.

Last night though I realized this reluctance to speak wasn’t about a true desire to resemble Nixon but rather a clamming up in response to a recent spike of low level enemies. For starters, Mars Bringer of War had been moving through my House of Relationships and when this happens you tend to experience death by a thousand cuts. Minor hostility directed at you from multiple directions. No single event worth crying over and yet the sum leaves you feeling demoralized, as though no good people exist. And as I’ve said before, faith in people, the dream that good people exist, is the force that pulls the words out of your mouth. Without that the words stay stuck inside.

Also, Pluto has been sextiling my sun. When Pluto sextiles* a planet, it basically releases a stream of mini enemies in that planet’s direction. These minis teach you how to fight & stand up for yourself so when the biggie transits happen, you are be ready.

Plutonic enemies are different from Martian ones. Martians attack fast and furious, shooting you in the knees, elbows, wherever. Plutonic enemies study you to find your kill spots. Then they execute the most subtle blow necessary to inflict true damage while appearing not to do anything at all. They do not want to be seen covered in blood and guts. They want to be seen as your friend. An understanding of your insecurities is essential to them. So you could see why the presence of Plutonic enemies would make you uninclined to blog about your inner self. They make you want to close off. Obscure. Misdirect.

And they were attacking me in a different way from usual. Normally, the attacks I get are “You’re dumb. You’re dumb. You’re dumb.” Recently it has been people sending me messages about how I’m a horrible singer, criticizing my videos, my blog, saying I’m a bad wife & leaving weird stuff on my doorstep. And other stuff which I can’t go into without seeming paranoid. That is the weird paradox of life- that you have to lie to seem truthful & if you try to be truthful you seem like a liar.

So anyway, like I said, the sextile releases baby enemies. What are baby enemies? They are enemies who you clearly have the power to defeat. The trick is, you might convince yourself they are too small to be worth defeating. You are a big boy. You can shrug it off. But this is big boy’s big mistake. When something is small, that may be the only chance you have to squash it. Once problems get bigger than you are, your chance of success goes down considerably.

So I prefer to over-analyze the heck out of the tiniest of things. It is probably natural for women to do this, though we are sometimes mocked for it. But if people understand how the female mind works they will realize we are humanity’s first line of defense. Your current problems would probably not exist had you listened to your wife. Once the problems do become full grown gorillas then women tend to take a step back and let men do their thing.

***

While I was busy not expressing myself, I did have the chance to go on a learning spree. But let me say here that I am not a huge advocate of learning. I think people are too obsessed with it and overlook more important mental activities like thinking. Still, I do consider myself 15% scholar and like to learn the life stories of those who came before. I like history. My only problem is that it focuses so much on politics and war. I want to know- I NEED to know- what people ate for breakfast. Were their hankerchiefs embroidered? With what kind of flower? Why that one? What perfume did they wear? Did they match their perfume to their hankerchief? These are my obsessions, the little details that cue me in to what was really going on in their minds, but it is hard to find that sort of info. Cause history trumps herstory, right? Once again we are encouraged to look at the big things and overlook the small ones.



* A sextile is basically the softest bump one planet gives another as it circles round your chart. To put it more technically, it is when the current position of a planet is 60 degrees away from the position of a planet in your birth chart, inside the ring of the zodiac.



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Charleston, West Virginia My Life Story Writings

What’s going on…

Recently, I’ve felt blocked from expressing myself because I’ve been under so many external influences that its been hard to hear through the noise.

I mentioned before how I used to be in the habit of keeping an ESP journal every morning. This would mean drawing the psychic forces (coming from people) that were impacting me.  Once I drew them their impact would somehow release, so it served a function similar to taking a shower.

When I started this journalling though, my contact with the outside world was extremely limited. Mostly, I was picking up things hitting James, which were primarily business contacts. A client would be mad at him for dropping the ball. Someone would be trying to get in touch with him. In those days, my accuracy was amazing, due to tiny size of my world. Maybe this is why women have traditionally lived small lives inside a home, rather than big lives dealing with the public. We are so squishy & prone to impact.

Back then I mostly only had to focus on one spot- the right side on top of the head- because that is where the majority of business issues take place. (In 95% of cases, males hit you from the right & females from the left. Also, 65% of non-romantic interactions hit in the head area– business, social media, an old friend thinking about you etc. If they hit around the ears or throat, they are likely talking about you or in the process of contacting you. If they hit the stomach area, they are actively competing with you. In the heart, they are either wanting to form a relationship or after your money. In the privates, it is sexual. But all in all, the head is the most hit.)

Eventually though, I started looking more at the left side of the body & non-head parts, leading to discoveries which changed my relationship with James and pretty much my whole identity. I had been 100,000% wife with no other parts to myself, but it felt like I had been kicked in the head out of the nest & had to try flapping my own wings, something I never thought it would come to. So I started using social media a lot more & also expressing more through music. This caused the balls to start hitting me directly, rather than me intercepting balls meant for James. The balls meant for him now faded into the background where I could barely see them anymore. And as I interacted with more people in more ways, the number of balls started to increase. Sometimes they were people I didn’t know and I would just write down their approximate age, weight, hair color & length (for some reason race doesn’t show up for me & black people look white which has led to a bit of confusion.) And of course, the colors they were emitting towards me which showed thoughts, feelings, intents.

During this phase, I began to feel less lonely. Because I realized humans are interconnected to a frightening degree. All the things we share- anger, hatred, dumb ideas, love, care, protection & even sexual energy are all transmitted through the air. You don’t have to intentionally ‘send’ love, like new age people do- if you actually love someone, the energy is already there. If you don’t, then good luck sending it. We are inherantly connected to each other & whatever we actually think, feel & intend is automatically broadcast. There is nowhere to hide & no place you can be alone. That is probably why I am sharing more, despite being a private person by nature- because I have realized that the truth is already out there. You can throw out a bunch of confusing signals, but eventually the smoke will clear & reality will be visible to all.

So for a while it felt my psychic abilities were expanding and expanding to the point where I was on the cusp of being able to amaze people as a circus act but then…

Then traffic to my website started to pick up dramatically. The number of inputs to my head increased. Now I could spend 2 hours drawing in my journal, but it wasn’t even clearing out 5% of the factors influencing me. It was like a wreath of static had formed around my head. It felt like a fire. This could be why people who get famous go insane and die. My head is so soft to begin with though, I don’t think it takes much attention for me to feel overwhelmed. I didn’t know what to do. 

So I stopped the ESP stuff around a year ago. I still haven’t found my way yet, because I need a method to clear the influences, but at the same time can no longer isolate & draw out every last person. There were other problems with the journal too- like it was making me too obsessed with other people & also what James was thinking. After drawing his thoughts & communications, I would then log into his computer to check my accuracy. When females were involved I would feel insanely jealous. I would try to avoid saying anything to him, but it would pop out anyway. He would get mad. So I didn’t feel too good about this, but there was really no way I could draw all the balls (which James wanted me to do) while also remaining emotionally detached. Plus, it began to feel tedious to have to pay this much attention to others while feeling completely cut off from my own desires & guidance. I felt like if I could tune into people this much, surely I could tune into something else instead… something maybe which could uplift me and help me to make sense of life.

So, that is the point where I remain…… trying to figure out what I need to get in touch with. Sometimes I feel I have found it & other times I accidentally plug into something which knocks me off my feet & it takes weeks to recover. More on that later.

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Charleston, West Virginia men My Life Story Writings

Falling in Love with Spiritual

I am not sure if this post is sexual and hence inappropriate or not sexual at all. It isn’t sexual to me. If it is sexual to you, then apologies. But there are things I am feeling compelled to talk. They are like giant bubbles rising up from my stomach and forcing their way out of my mouth. I may need to write a number of somewhat personal blog posts to get to the bottom of why I can’t stop talking about dicks. I don’t know where to begin, so I will just vomit up one little bubble about my life.

This is the story of how I fell in love with husband #1. Some of this has been shared before. So apologies for any repetition.

We will refer to this husband as Spiritual, because that was his name for part of the time I knew him. He goes by a different name now & this post is not intended to impact his reputation.

Spiritual was driving me to Michigan to attend a spiritual retreat. Spiritual was my spiritual guide, not my boyfriend. The eastern philosophies I was absorbing had taught me that obedience to a guru was the surest way to achieve enlightenment. God had contacted Spiritual and told him to be my guru. This seemed like a miracle, an answered prayer, since I had been praying for somebody to guide me.

Spiritual had made it clear that attending this retreat would be the key to getting rid of the ego. I had no idea what to expect. Getting in the car with a odd smelling male and going on an unknown retreat was not my cup of tea, but I had already accepted that the process of becoming enlightened was gonna suck. I was majoring in Tibetan buddhism & most of the stories of enlightenment involved eating shit, murdering people & doing all sorts of distasteful things. Crazy wisdom, they called it. But it was just the ego that found these things distasteful. Once you reached enlightenment, it was all worth it.

So we were speeding 80 mph down the highway in his van, when suddenly Spiritual said “There’s something we need to talk about…. THIS” and firmly grabbed my crotch, leaving his hand there. I froze. I tried to remember that it was just molecules touching molecules. It had no meaning. This is something I would tell myself when things were gross.

Then he pulled the car over to a rest stop. He said to get out of the car and stood there and said I needed to kiss him. I couldn’t do it. It’s like when you are trying to get yourself to eat a slug and you can’t. We stood there for the longest time. Finally he started screaming at me and I pecked him on the lips. We got back in the van.

We drove to his parents house. This was a shock to me, since I thought we were attending a spiritual retreat center. He introduced me as his girlfriend. I was confused. I thought he was my spiritual leader. I didn’t say anything. Then he went up to his parents room and lay on the floor naked. He said I needed to touch his whole body admiringly because he hadn’t been appreciated enough in his life. I did it.

Next, he said we needed to get married. Because he was Catholic and I had touched his naked body. (Catholicism had not come up before.) This idea repulsed me. I was still a teen and had no desire to be married, especially to him. So I agreed and started wearing his mother’s engagement ring.

As soon as we were engaged things changed instantaneously. He started yelling at me constantly. Making humiliating scenes every time we were out in public. He had yelled at me before (he called it giving me an ‘ego bat’), but now it was unrelenting. It never stopped. But still I fell in love with him. A cascade of molecules caused me to feel high when I touched his hand. I became very attached to him. Inseparable. It got to where I literally could not think a single thought without running it through him to see if it was true or false.

Technically him grabbing my crotch on the way to the spiritual retreat was not the first time we’d had physical contact.

After he became my spiritual guide, Spiritual told me that God had presented him with two choices. I must choose one or the other to stay on the path of enlightenment. Either ask my best male friend to “go down on me” or if I wouldn’t do that then Spiritual would need to perform the procedure.

This was far outside of my experiences and the thought of having to ask a male friend to do it would have been worse than eating a live heart. I would rather have killed myself. So I agreed that he would do it. On the appointed date he took me to a hotel room. I will spare you the details. But don’t worry- this is not an erotic story and it was not an erotic experience. I just lay there with most of my clothes on. I had had surgery on that part of my body as a kid and also many medical procedures. They hurt, but afterwards I got oatmeal cookies. This wasn’t too different. He stuck various things in me. I don’t remember what they all were. One was a blow pop. When I was a kid I would always get to choose a lollipop before the most painful procedures making them bittersweet.

He said he “came twice.” This didn’t have a precise meaning to me. He said it might be useful to touch other body parts. I said okay. That didn’t mean anything to me. I was just a bunch of molecules lying on a table on their way to achieving enlightenment. Afterwards I felt kind of relieved like how you feel when you are leaving the dentist office and are patting yourself on the back for being responsible. Poor Julien. What a doofus.

And not even that experience was unprecedented. It is just that I had this way of completely tuning out anything remotely sexual to the extent that it didn’t exist in my mind. I have told people before that I’ve never been hit on once in my life, but maybe it only seemed that way because my mind just wouldn’t process the sexual implications of any encounter regardless of how blatant they were.

Once for example, this guy kept putting my hand on his dick and I kept moving it off his dick. This didn’t register as sexual to me (despite being an adult), it just seemed like nonsensical behavior, as though someone was trying to touch my elbow with his nose. I didn’t want to touch the gross slimy slug but I didn’t see the male as sexually motivated.

So anyway, before I became his girlfriend or even his disciple, Spiritual insisted I hug him every time I saw him (which was not desired since he reeked of b.o.) and then he would sing this song, “You always give me a boner.” Then he would explain how he got a boner each time he hugged me. Obviously this should have been a warning sign as to what would happen if you got in a van with this guy. But I had changed a lot of diapers as a kid and babies sometimes had boners. So I just saw it in that light, not a sexual one.

And he would sometimes ask if I could remove undergarments so he could study their fabric due to his interest in fabrics. Luckily, I didn’t do that. If he had said it was necessary for spiritual reasons, I would have, but I didn’t want to do something icky just to increase his knowledge of textiles. He would also say weird things about how my br–sts seemed to be attached to my chest. I just filed this under molecules talking about molecules. Things that had no rhyme or reason. So many things in life, so many things people did, just seemed nonsensical to me. They had no explanation. Molecules talking about molecules.

And it worked both ways- I would frequently say and even act out sexually explicit things, like writing songs about rape that (in my mind) were songs about colors or turning in a giant picture of a dick for my final art project which in my mind was a picture of a tree. But this is a subject for another post.

Categories
Astrology Charleston, West Virginia men Writings

First, An Apology to Men

Recently I have been writing a ton of blog posts but not publishing them. I have a lot to say but feel hung up about saying it.

In some cases, the things I want to share fall somewhat into the #metoo category. Although the excesses of #metoo (Believe Women. Believe the Victim.) are frightening, it is also hard to overstate the value of sharing true stories of victimization. There is simply no other way these processes can be understood and prevented.

We know this when it comes to wars and large scale atrocities. Those who do not learn history are doomed to repeat it. But the principle applies equally to the issue of predatory behavior in relationships, which- while less dramatic- causes just as much carnage in totality.

In astrology, the sun rules the government and husbands, while the populace and wives are ruled by the moon. With apologies to men, it seems accurate to say that governments and husbands are more likely to abuse power than the reverse. The people & wives have to be aware of this possibility to ensure safety. They need knowledge of what can happen, a clear sense of rights & boundaries so they can tell when these are being violated, and some form of power so they will have the possibility of fighting back if it comes to that.

Of course, the government also has to fear the population rising up against it. Likewise, women sometimes kill their husbands. But this most commonly happens as a response to tyranny (in the case of the government) and physical abuse (in the case of the husband). Conversely, men- who kill their wives far more frequently- generally do so in response to the woman trying to leave.

I know many men object to abuse being made into a gender issue and I understand the reasons for this. The fact is, some women are inclined to use false claims of victimization as a tool. I have known them. But the only reason this works is because it is believable. It is believable when you accuse a gorilla of tearing a sink out of the wall with its bare hands, less so for a cat. This is one of the risks of power. But pretending to not have power so that you can’t be falsely accused of abusing it is not the solution.

Lies breed lies and truth breeds truth. One facet of that truth is that women are more vulnerable in relationships. Men have more force and hardness built into the structure of their beings. They are less permeable. Marriage is like throwing a chunk of quartz and a chunk of calcite into the same pocket. If these differences are not accounted for, it is easy to predict which stone will get fucked.



P.S. I realize that when a person’s mind is far from root level concerns and focused on things like movies and restaurants, the power differential between genders and government overreach can both seem like the far-fetched concerns of the paranoid. Sure men CAN overpower women, but so what? We live in a post-physical power reality, right? Sure, governments HAVE killed their citizens, but like wasn’t that in the past?

A decade ago, my perspective on these issues was very different. I thought women could just as easily abuse men and there was no legitimate reason people needed guns. When you are focused on trying out new falafel recipes, it is easy to pretend these red levels of power don’t exist. But once you are forced to confront them, you see how these lower frequencies of life have actually been influencing your choices all along.

Categories
Charleston, West Virginia men Politics Writings

A Black 8 Disclaimer

I see life as a collection of diverse and frequently opposing forces- elements, virtues, qualities etc- that must remain in a workable balance. All forces can be used for good or evil.

So please keep in mind, when I am writing about current events, whatever side I appear to stand on is relative to present day threats and imbalances, as I perceive them. If there is a drought, I want rain. When people are blobs, I want war. When everything turns to yellow, I want illegal drugs. When people are drowning in purple, I want to ban drugs. All of my stances are *relative*, so ten years from now I will likely be on a different side of the same issue. I don’t have a specific vision for what our society should look like, but I do feel it keenly when things have gotten out of whack.

I believe the stars in the sky are literally Virtues. There are a zillion virtues humans can attach to and many of these are diametrically opposed to one another. Therefore, it becomes about aligning with the virtues which lead you towards your peculiar destiny. Or sometimes relating to a virtue only temporarily, because it can guide you out of a problem you are facing. Following a virtue will guide our lives in a specific direction, just as the stars in the sky do.

Being a black 8 means that I believe all virtues are inherently equal, but only specific virtues will be helpful to a specific person or situation. Therefore I don’t judge things by whether they match a specific ideal, but by whether or not they feel right or else give you a darkened backwards spin in your stomach. Generally, I don’t like men in dresses for example, but sometimes I do. Generally, I don’t think people should consult astrologers, but sometimes they should. Right & wrong is about aligning with an underlying true nature which is infinitely variable in the forms it can take.

So right now I promote virtues like patriotism, hard work, self reliance, masculinity etc because it feels as though they are needed. We are overdosing on empathy, introspection, sensitivity and self-care to the point that they have become toxic and are poisoning people. But they aren’t inherently bad. Personally, I am more introspective than patriotic because that relates to my specific life purpose. Since I have an active use for the energy of introspection, it isn’t toxic to me.

But to suggest that everyone needs to spend time journaling is just icky. *IF* any virtues are to be overemphasized, they should be the virtues related to survival- hard work, responsibility, common sense etc. Because without enough of these root level virtues, everything else becomes irrelevant.

And it is disturbing that these foundational virtues are the very ones under attack. As someone who works in non-practical realms I feel a sense of gratitude & debt towards those who do practical things. Because without them I wouldn’t exist. When musicians search for flaws in the way lumberjacks think as an excuse for attacking them, it is so wrong. The impractical should never disdain the practical and pretend to be its superior. Nor is it reasonable to think root level people will tolerate this forever. Musicians need lumberjacks more than lumberjacks need musicians & it is important to never forget this.

Of course, some musicians find my views on this offensive. Usually male musicians. I don’t know why. But to me, it isn’t a negative to need someone more than they need you. Why is that wrong? It’s just the way life is.


Categories
Writings

To Love America is to Love Life

Sometimes there are issues which bang on my head until I feel compelled to say something about them, although I would prefer to be writing about something else. In general, I think of world affairs as being a man topic, so I really hope men can overcome the cultural messaging to “sit down and shut up” and instead find the balls to stand and speak against all the leftist nonsense that is happening. Even if it means taking a beating in the process.

Today I am feeling annoyed by the trendiness of anti-American sentiment. America is constantly characterized in the worst possible terms and disliking America is practically considered a sign of sophistication. Of course, much of this anti-American sentiment comes from mentally challenged Americans who believe it makes them seem cosmopolitan and righteous. But it bothers me it is because- in my opinion- it is yet another tentacle of the leftist brain octopus which is trying to align our thoughts in a way that will make it easy to rob us of our power.

Men are bad, guns are bad, America is bad. Do you see the trend? Anything that has power, anything which can protect life at a root level is being demonized. Red is bad. Pride is bad. Patriotism is bad. Those things which make us strong in the root and give us the ability to survive so we can chart a course of our own choosing are bad.

Criticizing a country as large and diverse as America is obviously an easy task. Whatever bad qualities you go looking for, you are likely to find, just as you can walk into a library and find books on your least favorite subject. But the fact remains that America is currently the largest and most powerful country which has traditionally stood against communism and this is something all freedom lovers should care about. America doesn’t matter just for itself. It is one of the forces standing between all of us and totalitarianism. If America falls to leftism, things do not look good for anyone. But if America pulls through, it helps protect the freedom of the whole world.

And there is no need to put down America. There is no competition between different countries anymore than the dandelion and the oak need to compete. We all have our unique things to offer.

But let’s not be idiots and pretend like America isn’t a critical player on the world stage. For this reason, people who value freedom should find another country to hate. People around the globe- and Americans themselves- should love America and help us to fight off the plague of leftism threatening to overtake us.

To be a friend to America is to be a friend to yourself.

Categories
Charleston, West Virginia Purple, Magic & Sorcerers Writings

Where is my Venus?

(Warning. This post may contain gross words.)

I am a female. I am an artiste. Why can’t I can’t relate to Venus, beautiful goddess of women and the arts? Ruler of money, comforts and social graces? Why can I only relate to Aries, god of blood and gore? Why do I turn to him when I have problems? I started wondering about this today and then vomited out the following words. I don’t know if they will shed light on the issue or not.

*

Growing up I wanted to be a boy. Or at least a tomboy. Not because I liked boy things. I didn’t. But I wanted to like boy things. I felt incredibly guilty for not reading the sports page, watching sports games or learning sports statistics. My ultimate dream was to be seen by others as someone who was obsessed with sports. My ultimate ultimate dream was to be the first female professional football player.

I wanted to be a great athlete, but was held back by my dislike for sports. They were smelly, dull, tiring, abrasive, and lacking in color.

Still, the world I grew up in was 90% sports, so even if you disliked them you were playing them anyways. Swimming, t-ball, tennis, gymnastics and ballet when you’re little and later volleyball, basketball, tennis and track. In half of these sports, being tall made up for the fact that I was spaced out and apathetic.

It wasn’t enough to just play sports though. Unless you wanted to be an absolute loser in life you needed to force yourself to do sporty things in between playing sports. Time between sports could be filled with competitive ping pong games, shooting pool, practicing freethrows or going for a bike ride. If there was a time lapse between swim practice and tennis practice, you should arrange to hit balls with a friend. Failing that hit balls against a wall or practice your serve. But do not sit there munching a grilled cheese like a lazy piece of shit.

I knew some people from public schools who would sometimes play sports in a silly way, like hitting ping pong balls against the wall and giggling. This shocked me. My husband grew up in a religion where pure thoughts & sexuality were moralized. In my world, sports were moralized. Sports and exertion. If you chose to relax when you could be playing sports, exercising or doing something strenuous, then you were a bad person. A lazy piece of shit, to be exact.

Also on my shoulders was the weight of needing to save the female species from disgrace. They were a disgrace because they were bad at sports. The superiority of men at sports was a favorite dinner conversation. My dad liked to discuss how one day my younger brothers would surpass me in sports and this filled me with dread and humiliation. I had to stop this from happening. I had to prove that females can do everything a man can do. And so from the beginning, I was at war with nature.

But the possibility of being a worthless piece of shit was not the worst part. On its own, I could have dealt with being a loser. The real problem was that if I did not become a professional football player I would have to become a regular woman. I knew I didn’t want this. Based on everything I heard they were absolutely disgusting. They used only one thing to get through life and that was “sexual wiles.” Whatever they appeared to have achieved it was those wiles that had done it. I didn’t know exactly what wiles were, but I knew they sounded gross like smooshing your body against someone else’s while wearing a silk blouse bulging with boobs.

And since I had three brothers and no sisters, I was the only one who would have to grow up and use sexual wiles. It made me feel humiliated. They would just get to grow up and be normal people. Beating me at sports until eventually my wiles took over. This sucked.


***

Fast forward to when I’m 18 and decide to legally change my first and last name. Of course I chose a man’s name. To me, a man’s name meant I would be the person I was within, not someone who played a role to please others. Males were subjects. Females objects. A man’s value came from his accomplishments. A female’s value came from what men thought of her. Unless she could beat them in sports. But I couldn’t. By this time I was just a series of injuries and could barely walk without pain. Dreams of becoming an athlete were over. Sort of.

Now I’m 19. My first boyfriend/spiritual guru/husband and Jesus have agreed. I should be a stripper. The reasoning has something to with achieving enlightenment. I agree I should do this. Why? Because it is my greatest nightmare. You must do the thing you fear. Or as my dad liked to say “That which does not kill you makes you stronger.” If you do what feels good to you, the ego wins. If you torture yourself, the ego starts to die. Then you will finally become free to fly past the Eagle in the sky and live forever. That is literally how I thought of it.

Some people see stripping as a feminine expression. Dumbasses. It is the most manly thing in the universe. No one with a feminine side goes near those places. I can only compare it to a man working up the courage to stab himself in a nut.

It is about as sexual as a man pulling down his pants to be examined by a doctor who happens to be his uncle. But I was honor bound to do it because it combined all the things I dreaded most- being on stage, dancing, acting ‘sexy’ and worst worst worst of all- not wearing clothes. I can’t really convey in words the extent to which I did not want to be without clothing. Would you like to be naked and carved up in the middle of a Thanksgiving feast? Would you like to be hog tied with your head buried in mud and your bare ass pointing towards the sky as friends walk by pointing and laughing at you? Cause that is how it felt. Disgusting but also like a horror movie. “Guts” was my name. But the disgust and the horror were why I had to do it. Only the ego has those feelings. Unless you kill the ego you will never fly past the Eagle.

This is also the time I decided to become a Professional Body Builder. This was probably a way of trying to turn my body into a suit of armor since I really didn’t want to be naked. I was not looking to become toned. I wanted to become absofreaking ginormous like those men in magazines with veins popping out of their forehead. I wanted to be a three hundred pound monster. I was convinced that if I ate enough canned chicken and spent all day at the gym, I would become just like those men. I didn’t realize this was as unlikely as becoming a professional football player. In the summer I spent all my time pumping iron and packing down protein. When I got back to school the teacher had me stand up for the class as an example of a body type that would never be able to gain muscle mass. I was confused because in my mind I already resembled those giant men.

But that one statement popped my dream. And if I couldn’t be a successful professional male body builder then I wasn’t going to be a stripper either. The two things went together.

***

Always people were breathing down on me, sculpting me. My psychology was built around finding ways to fend others off while also seeking them out for protection. But every new protector would become the one I needed protection from. Normal, healthy people probably steered clear of me, I was so weird. Or maybe I steered clear of them. To this day, I feel very uncomfortable around nice people. When people tell me I am the dumbest person they have ever met, I feel safe, like Briar Rabbit in his briar patch. When people gang up on me I feel at home. Nobody in my family liked me. I was surrounded by invisible cooties and you could see the disgust in their faces.

***


I don’t trust men who try to pretend like men and women are the same. My first husband was like this. He would wear women’s clothing and mascara. He would decorate my room with pictures of women carrying guns and knives. And naked women making weird expressions. To me they looked like men in those unnatural poses, their faces scrunched up as though (trigger warning) they were trying to take a crap. But to the males that came around they were hot and sexy women. I never knew what they were seeing.

Husband would wear my shirts and perfume. He would buy me knives whose handles were carved into skulls. He bought me swords. He gave me a stolen gun and told me to keep it in my backpack as a symbol of female empowerment. He called the cops and told them I was planning to murder someone. A man who had recently crushed my skull but whom I had no plans to murder. It is hard to explain the full extent to which murdering people was not on my mind. It really hit me from left field. The cops took me to get psychiatric evaluation. They looked at my dorm room, the walls covered in collages and posters hung there by my husband. Violence, nudity. The big black pirate flag he had hung in my window. I had thought it was funny and weird the way teenagers think it is funny to turn a sign upside down. It was better than naked women. But when you are a potential murderer these things take on a different glow. The collection of knives on my desk. It made me feel special when he bought these for me. He wanted me to be safe and powerful. At any rate, I hadn’t had much say in the way my room was decorated. Each new piece of decor was hung while I was out and then presented to me as a surprise, a gift filled with complex existential meanings which would be laboriously laid out. Usually something along the line of female empowerment or getting past the Eagle.

Aesthetically I didn’t care for his decorations but it never occurred to me to view them through the eyes of police men. Although this wasn’t the first time police had shown up in my dorm room. Once they came because there was a gigantic naked man handcuffed to the stairwell outside my door. My name was written over his naked body, presumably by my husband. He was rattling his chains and wailing my name. I don’t know why. My roommate and I were pretty scared because this was the middle of the night and we had been sleeping. But it had become normal for my husband to do weird things in the middle of the night, like pulling the fire alarm, sometimes repeatedly forcing everyone in the dorm to evacuate. It was so loud & startling & cold & then the nightmare of having to get out of bed in a panic and be around boys without real clothes or makeup on. But he said I needed to learn to go without sleep to get past the eagle.

So when a naked guy was chained to my room wailing my name it was not totally out of the ordinary. I was usually in a state of semi-horror. The cops came and I was hid from them because I didn’t want them to see me in my nightgown with no makeup. I couldn’t look at them and I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know why he was chained there and why my name was written on his body.

My husband would wear my clothes and give me his. Sheer mesh shirts from International Male that reeked of permanent b.o. He made fun of my clothes, saying I dressed like a gigantic baby. He bought me new ones. He said he needed me to be a classy elegant lady. This had something to do with existentialism and Apollo vs Dionysus. There were always very complicated explanations for things. Classy, elegant ladies wore cutaway tops. Cutaway tops were shirts which covered up one’s entire torso except for the breasts which were left bare and exposed. I said I had never seen a cutaway top and it made no sense that elegant ladies would wear these. But that is when he would start screaming. Really really loud, just like the fire alarm. I guess his pattern was to make a false or absurd statement and then start screaming until I accepted it. He especially liked to scream in public. It seemed as though the more he screamed at me in public the more our friends would come up with psychological theories as to why he was actually a good guy, just someone with problems. Which caused an ever increasing flow of kindness and generosity in his direction.

He liked to humiliate me in public. Screaming at me until I would take off clothes or dance. Taking off his clothes in a fancy restaurant. Telling me I had to say sexual things to people, including family members, or saying sexual things himself. Giving people inappropriate gifts that were supposedly from me or threatening teachers in my name. I became accustomed to living in a state of permanent humiliation. I was horrified to be associated with myself and the dark, perverted, murderous freak I was supposed to be. But this made me cling to him even tighter. He was the only one who could love me.

People say it is your fault if you are in a bad relationship because you didn’t leave. I don’t care. I don’t know what fault means anyway. There were reasons I was with him. For starters, even before him I was very confused. I remember running around outside at night screaming “Help!! I can’t see!!!” I felt there were things in my mind I couldn’t get to. I was confused as to what was real and what wasn’t. I was always looking for people who could help me make sense of things. Nothing ever made sense in my world. My parents would say things that didn’t make any sense either. They would project strange things onto me.

Even moreso I was with him due to fear. I was terrified of my parents. I still am. I preferred being escorted by cops as a potential murderer to being alone with them. And for all his faults, my husband had the virtues of being insanely brave and bold. He wasn’t afraid of anything. He would bite the head right off of a live snake knowing it was poisonous. It was insane.

I suppose my core flaw was not being an independent person. That is my core flaw to this day. Everyone is expected to be an independent person ready to handle life completely on their own at a moment’s notice. But it is hard to be independent when you can’t trust your mind to know what is real and what isn’t. The terror, the confusion & the dependence became this Bermuda triangle, each point playing off the others so there wasn’t any clear way to escape it. He was the only person willing to step into that mess.

Nothing has really changed. I am still confused, still terrified and still dependent. But I try to be a productive person to make up for my flaws. I don’t want to be a net drain on the world.

Categories
Astrology Charleston, West Virginia Red, Soldiers, & Fire Writings

Aries, I love you!!!

Holy cow, if there is one thing I love in this freaking world, it has to be Aries, God of War. Just thinking about him makes me want to go insane.

Not only is he the first sign of the zodiac he is also the first principle I turn to whenever life feels dim. If not for Aries taking that first bold step into the void, no other signs would have ever be born. He is the electric current that powers the whole zodiac. You could say he is life itself. I freaking love him.

Aries is one quality (well one of 100) I always seek in people but rarely find. It isn’t that common for people to move forward boldly in a direction of their choosing. Many are pathetically addicted to being on the receiving end of life, seeing this as a form of validation. There are more people who want to be courted & pursued than people who are hungry to continuously pursue someone (or something) who is kicking them in the face. But once you make the connection to Aries and feel his fire in your heart your perspective shifts. A kick really does start to feel like a kiss. There is a reason Jesus said it is better to give than receive. Because the life force flows through the giver.

To be the actor plugs you directly into life’s current. When you act boldly upon this world, electricity from another world begins to flow into you. The receiver looks to this world for his fulfillment, while the giver receives straight from God. Connected to a higher power, it doesn’t matter how this world responds to you. The exhilaration of feeling life flow through you becomes its own reward. It is thrilling to never know what you will do next and what might pour out of you. We call this “being on fire.”

And the fire of Aries is always available to us. Aries is our ability to act independently and assertively, without outside support. By definition, he is there for us any time we choose.

No matter our situation, there is always some arena in which we can engage a little harder and become a little bolder. Always some opportunity to extend further into the unknown, filling your body with tingles. If you are low on tingles it is because you are low on Aries and no amount of external stimulation can bring that potato to life. It has to come from within. Setting aside the need for validation, for permission. Life flowing through you and making the world come alive.

I have in my mind this masculine ideal of someone who is always brave, shockingly bold, moving forward, relentless, caring what no one thinks. After discussing this with many women, Aries seems to be the archetype 90% of us dream of. A strong bold man who sweeps you off your feet despite your protests and you have no idea what is happening. You can’t think straight, your bones have turned to jelly, but still he continues.

And I have experienced this a few times, but the sad truth is that when your life consists of continuously getting swept away by outside forces you eventually turn into a vegetable. Even females need to find the fire within. Sometimes though, it doesn’t feel so much like this fire comes from within, but from someone behind you- the perfect man- filling you up with a fire from another world, giving you boldness even when you know you are a coward. The love he gives you never fades or dims, it just grows stronger the more you use it.

Ironically, the more you let the primal fire flow through you, the more you may attract things to yourself thus fulfilling the vegetal desire to be pursued. But at this point it doesn’t matter anymore because you already have all the fire you can take and it is just holding candles up to the sun.

How many times have you heard that you must love yourself before others can love you? How many have lost large chunks of their life floating around in bubble baths waiting for this to happen? Women often think of self-love as a kind of bifurcated mental state where they are both a priceless object and also the housekeeper who must tirelessly care for that priceless object. With this kind of self-love you break even at best, like preparing an elaborate dinner for one. Becoming the slave of your object self is blah. Becoming the slave of Aries is hot.

To me, self love means connecting with the fire in your heart and realizing that this fire is life itself. No man created it. No man can judge it. The fire created the whole world and everything in it. The fire bows to no one and seeks no approval.

It feels fucking exhilarating as though Prince Charming is standing right behind you blazing a hole through your heart. Life itself is the ultimate masculine principle and He has chosen you to be forever alive. Feeling him there you know how much you have to offer the world because it isn’t the form of what you give or how well crafted it may seem. You are bringing fire itself. Bringing life to life. On fire like this, it feels wonderful to be the one extending your hand because you have already received and been chosen. The fact that you are able to extend is proof that life has found you so desirable he couldn’t resist filling you up with his own energy. A slave to the ultimate man. UGH!!!!!!!!!!! That is how I feel about Aries. Like I said, he makes me go insane.

***

But wait… I need to be honest with you… there is a dark side to my love for aries… there is another side to this coin…

I tend to view life as consisting of two worlds. The physical world we can see and an invisible world of eternal spiritual powers which we can’t see. I view myself as a channel through which the powers flow, descending from that world into this one. This is an Arian view of life, in which I play the dynamic role and the world around me is the dough I act upon. Sometimes I view others as dough people. I have to ram them with my rod til I’m exhausted. Or sometimes protect myself against them. Because I realize other people can harm, but I rarely consider the possibility that they could bring something new or meaningful into my life. I have no hope of finding anything meaningful in my world other than the things I bring into it. And I’m pretty sure that perspective is fucked up.

The upside to this is being able to find meaning in my life regardless of how others treat me or feel about me, because my primary meaning is coming from relating to the invisible worlds. Consider Emily Dickinson, who spent her life writing poems but never got them published. What if she had been concerned with getting them published? Maybe she would have become frustrated & committed suicide. Not caring what the world gives to you puts you in a position of control. Things like other people, over which you have no control, don’t matter.

I guess my approach to life developed in an attempt to maintain equilibrium while feeling overpowered by those whom I could not influence. To be able to grow when normal avenues of growth seemed blocked. But viewing life solely through the lens of what you bring to the world can lead to a sort of loneliness where the only person in your life is you. Not to mention reduced survival skills since you aren’t connected enough to the people and things around you to really understand how they work. And emitting too much energy can keep other people at bay. In fact, keeping other people at arm’s length is probably why I started to emit in the first place.

One technique I learned early in life was to stream out a continuous flow of energy towards those I found threatening… to try and shower them with so many compliments, gifts and helpful observations that they would have fewer opportunities to attack. Like throwing a tiger a steady supply of meat. Love bombing I guess. I would try to fill all the space between myself and others with energy so there would be no time or space left for them to respond. This didn’t stop attacks, but did slow them a bit. It probably had the impact of attracting mostly predators and mooches as well since I was constantly throwing things at people. Money, compliments, clothes, even trading school papers when I knew mine would get higher grades. I flattered others constantly while disparaging myself, but because I paid no attention to what I was or wasn’t receiving from the world, I never really noticed the harm I was causing, nor that I was sinking deeper and deeper into a pit from which I would not be able to escape.

Now I don’t feel as much of a need to flatter, but still obsessively fill space with my own energy. When I stop doing this, it feels as though there is nothing there. I can either provoke others and be attacked or be surrounded by inert blobs of dough.

Hence the need for Libra, Aries’ polarity. The sign of relationships where giving and receiving are in a state of balance. To be Aries is to be an individual. To be Libra is to be in harmony with the world and receive the things you need from other people. I am not going to say much about Libra at this point because I don’t really understand it. I have been fairly productive for most of my life and probably earned less than a thousand dollars. Meanwhile a person with a super strong Libra says something like “What is, is.” and wins a Nobel Prize. Oil barons want to marry them. Because they understand how the world works and know how to position themselves within it for maximum gain. I guess receiving things from life is not an automatic but takes a different type of skill and knowledge, something Aries cannot understand. I want to learn this because I want to survive. And also because everything which isn’t myself is my obsession, even if I can never quite reach it.

So take my enthusiasm for Aries with a grain of salt, because despite his absolute hotness he is just one side of the coin. Without the other side you will not last long in this world.

******

*** PS. This is my usual disclaimer that in discussing Aries & Libra I am discussing the signs themselves, as forces in the universe, not those people who call themselves “an aries” or “a libra.” Personally I am a scorpio, despite identifying with aries in this post.

But we all have aries at some place in our chart and this is an area of life where we will exert ourselves with aggression. For me, aries rules my House of Creativity & Self-Expression, so this is the arena where I am willing to step out & assert myself in an independent manner. In other areas of life, not so much. Someone else, like you for example, might have Aries in their house of sex, making them an absolute freak but only behind closed doors.