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Charleston, West Virginia My Life Story Uncategorized Writings

What is a dick?

Please forgive me if I make no sense. Right now the whole universe is bombarding my mercury- aka brain- and it has sped thought processes to where I can hardly function. Zillions of thoughts colliding into each other & all of them breaking into fragments. This will last a couple more years.

I can still write songs in this state, but songs come out like eggs. You have to let the emotional energy congeal again before laying the next one. In the meantime, there is still too much I need to express. Plus I am so alone & this blog is my closest friend.

So I am barfing out thoughtlets. To release them from my mind.

One strange thing about my mind is how it seems to have different pieces which live side by side, unknown to one another. I would notice this at school when I would get perfect scores on tests which- as far as I knew- I knew nothing about. Subjects like advanced math & science where you can’t fake it. Also, everything related to sex.

As a teen the last thing in the world I wanted was to be associated with sex or even being female. This could partially explain why I changed my name to Julian.

Buying female products was my worst nightmare. I would go to the store in disguise & wait til there were no people around. Later the products would be stored in a box hidden behind a dresser in a closet. I invented multiple codes for writing in my journal so that I could write in double code (a code within a code). But this wasn’t enough, so when they were finished my beautiful journals would have to be ripped to pieces and then burned. What was I writing about? Boys. Liking them was the most secretive & humiliating thing imaginable.


At the same time, however, I was- unknown to myself- constantly broadcasting sexual things in an inappropriate way. It was only many years later that the constant explicit nature of my actions became clear to me.

There was the way I would eat bananas in front of younger teenage boys. They would always ask me to eat them over and over again which I was happy to do since I brought 2 bananas with me to school every day. There was the time I plastered the school with a poem about 2 soft squishy balls which a man liked to play with. I really thought it was a poem about favorite toys and was bewildered by how people would crack up. There was my final art project at university which I thought was a tree, but in retrospect was a realistic picture of a dick sliding through a hole. There were the poems I wrote about people coming all over things and the look on the teachers faces when they read them. The times I would jump up on tables and start doing pelvic thrusts at family get togethers. Passing people notes that said “Do you want to make love?” Painting pictures of soldiers have sex with their dads and writing songs which (in retrospect) were obviously about people getting raped but at the time I thought they were songs about colors.

In my mind, almost everything was a color or a feeling. The literal meanings of things did not compute. Of course, I wouldn’t expect anyone to believe this because it doesn’t even make sense to me. How can someone know something and not know something at the same time?


I don’t know.

The End.

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Astrology Charleston, West Virginia Writings

Secret Enemies

Well, I finally forced myself to do an esp journal to see what is going on above my head and it appears the newest thing is that I have a lot of secret enemies, who appear like colored clouds floating above my head, some with lightning bolts contained within the cloud but not striking. I guess they are just waiting for the right time.

Astrologically I have been having a transit (Pluto on Mercury)* which causes a person to speak more forcibly & creates secret enemies since being outspoken alienates people, while seeming forceful motivates them to oppose you in sneaky ways rather than openly.

I used to have people attacking me directly all the time. “You’re the dumbest person I ever met.” “Who wants to hear a nazi singing?” etc etc. It was constant, probably because while I expressed opinions I also tried to be overly nice, making me an easy target. Then I became friends with a bunch of feminists who would constantly go ballistic on people and that started to get me more comfortable with the idea of standing up for myself. The feminists scorned those who coddled male egos, calling them ball palmers & hand maidens. This inspired me to stop my incessant ass kissing. Which caused me to lose most of my male friends.

Now, a year or so later, people open direct fire on me much more rarely. But not because they like me better. Just because they are waiting for their moment to Ceasar me. In many cases I know their identities. But one of the great mysteries of life has always been what you are supposed to do if you know someone is going to commit a crime that they haven’t yet committed? You can’t exactly punish them ahead of time. And if you start cutting people off for things they haven’t yet done, everyone will assume you are paranoid. But just sitting on your hands & waiting for someone to murder you also seems pretty lame.

A few years ago I didn’t even believe in enemies, although looking back, I definitely had them. Just the word enemies would have seemed a bit dirty to me. In fact I still feel pangs of guilt for using such an unladylike word rather than pretending that we are All One. But whatever. God devoted 2 out of his 12 starry houses to them and I am sure he knew what he was doing.

Sometimes enemies may even be preferable to friends because they encourage cunning & self reliance rather than bleeding yourself out for approval. You don’t have to merge with your enemies or give them 3/4 of your sandwich. Unless of course they are pretending to be your friends and you are going along with it, unsure of what else to do.

This past year has been all about females, but this coming year I hope to interact with more males because I feel they have the type of knowledge I need. They don’t seem to lose a sense of their individual identity in the way that women do.

* In case you care about astrology, technically Pluto is sextiling my Mercury. I don’t share the popular opinion that sextiles are positive.

My view on sextiles is that they give you baby challenges which allow you to learn important lessons in a relatively safe setting. For example, the enemies I currently deal with pose no mortal threat to me. (I hope.) If I wanted to I could dismiss them as being too trivial to care about. If I did this, however, I would not learn lessons which will be vital when Pluto squares Mercury. During squares & opposition, failure has real consequences.

Therefore, I always take the events of sextiles seriously- at least from a learning perspective- and try to get things right, so I will be ready when life gets real.

Categories
Astrology Charleston, West Virginia

Mercury: Separate a person’s words from their character, or suffer the consequences!

One thing I have learned from reading people’s charts is the importance of Mercury, a planet I frequently overlook, since on the surface it seems so boring. Mercury rules communication and the intellect. Who cares?! People don’t get astrology readings to learn more about their writing style. But I have come to realize that if you DON’T take a person’s Mercury into account, you run the deadly risk of mistaking the way a person talks for who they actually are.

My Mercury, for example, is in the sign of Scorpio, which rules sex, death and everything gruesome. And it is true that I can hardly speak more than a couple sentences without bringing serial killers into the conversation. The more I try to control myself, the more the “Freudian slips” begin. Not to mention that I have three overlapping codes I write in which are constantly changing so the patterns won’t stay consistent. Do I have anything particularly secretive to write about? No. Because I never actually DO anything secretive. But even if I am writing a to do list, I might suddenly become paranoid about someone else being able to read it. Scorpio rules secrets.

Mercury also governs listening and attention. If someone tries to talk about Buddhism or saving the environment around me, I start to sink into a coma. But mention sex with a goat, and I am all ears. And I live in terror that someday google histories will be made public because when I zone out I tend to google things related to crime, perversion, Woody Allen, and how to know if your husband had sex with his mother.

However, this is just my mercury and luckily not my moon. Which means it has no correlation to what I actually do in real life. My physical existence is the opposite of dark, intense & perverted. I never wear black. I don’t even like Halloween. My favorite activities are walking, talking and going for car rides thanks to a moon in breezy and superficial Gemini. Being involved in anything remotely criminal would be my worst nightmare. I don’t have the nerves for it, nor the interest. But my speech patterns have at times caused people to reach the wrong conclusions about me.

Likewise, I have known humble people who speak like braggarts (Mercury in Leo). Power hungry people who talk like saints. Saints who talk like serial killers. Happy people who sound sad. Crazy people who sounds presidential. Dumb people who seem smart. And smart people who sound dumb. The point is that our style of communication can be a totally different animal from what lies beneath. So don’t be confused! Have you ever heard Jeffrey Dahmer’s sweet and thoughtful baby speech? Assuming a person’s words are a window into their soul may be the last thing you ever do!