Highs and Lows.
Or maybe it’s ebb and flow. A couple of unrelated links via Slashdot: \\Scientific American\\ on Pluto stuff, and my favorite, more about Heisenberg.
I got a suggestion that I should let Bubba deal with my hate mail, as there’s been a ton of it lately. Bubba’s vitriolic rhetoric is second to none.
It’s strange how topics coincide, too, as I was just wrapping up the world as my Petri Dish when some – to me – rather damning and hateful mail, cycled through.
It was an old friend, or teacher, or mentor, or confidant, apparently incredibly upset with me. I couldn’t begin to fathom the source of the complaint because it rambled from one point to another, and it included a comment about my mother. Not an expletive, just a comment. Seeing as how I’d just spent Sunday doing the dutiful son thing, that comment bothered me. With this particular acquaintance, though, I don’t know how to handle the vitriol. Subsequent notes back and forth revealed that some of the complaint was merely strongly sarcastic, but to mention my mother? Sarcasm? Or just plain toxic and caustic?
“Hang him with his pen and ink-horn about his neck” Shakespeare’s \\Henry VI, Part 2\\ [IV.2.103>
Couldn’t have asked for nicer comment if I’d written it myself.
As I wandered home from a reading at Magnolia, I got to thinking about that scornful mail, and its inherent message, “Saturn’s taking you down.” And a comment about my parental units, with whom, I tend to feel like I have a good relationship with these days. Saturn is, indeed, in Gemini, making my life miserable. If you look closely at my natal chart, two items stick out: one is mother [figure> and the other is career. Poignant timing, that’s what it was. Almost – as if – an astrologer timed it to make me as uncomfortable as possible.
Could be my own paranoid fantasies, that’s for sure. Or it could be something else, too, a sign. I stopped by the bank-in-the-box and deposited a check, the cash from that reading, and I did a quick tally in my head. I may not be rich, and I’m certainly not independently wealthy, and I haven’t won the lottery yet, but my basic needs are met by me doing what I love to do.
The cool Texas evening, the neon just down the street, bats darting in the air, if the city’s glare wasn’t present, Jupiter twinkling high above [in the Tropical Zodiac sign of Cancer>. Best of all? The strains of a Hank Williams III’s song was going through my mind, “Walking with sorrow…” Funny how sad songs leave me feeling better.
