Episode 82: Please Report to the Abyss for Further Assistance…
Welcome to the last period of Scorpio full moon lunar eclipse mercury is in catastrophe again and Venus and Neptune straight up ditched to go smoke some weed on top of Baldwin Hill… which is like a thing in the Berkshires and thank you very much for the literal universal hazing. Can I have my phone and my shirt back please now that you’ve dumped a bucket of slime on me that smells faintly of strawberries and I’ve cleaned your bathroom with my toothbrush? If I could just have a moment to catch my breath… before the current just takes me under again. And could I please, pretty please, have a pony, and some really good sex, and 3 copies of A Streetcar Named Desire, in the original print, and some warm lentil & tomato dhal, and a bouquet of lilacs, and a long drive in someone else’s truck with my feet hanging out the window on the passenger side and the speakers blaring some epic electronic beat-dropping-base-heavy number while we drive to absolutely nowhere to lie down on a picnic blanket and watch the grass grow. Could I just, would you mind if I… could I have a small beeswax candle, 2.5 million dollars, a tiny house in New Mexico made of stone and glass. Could I just trouble you for a soulmate, a bottle of good non-alcoholic wine, a pair of shoes made in the high tradition of fine Italian leather shoemakers by hand in a burnished dark brown with leather soles? Did I mention I’d like some peace of mind, an ounce of clarity, a drop of compassion, a cup of tenderness? A dozen hummingbirds a garden of roses a perfectly ripened apple, a field of thyme. Could I bother you for a home, with a waterfall, a sanctuary by a mountain, could I just trouble you for strands of Tibetan prayer flags offered to the forest? If it wouldn’t be a bother maybe a hammock for reading, a gentile breeze, a perfect kiss. And maybe, if there’s room, just if we could recode my DNA to not carry this weight of trauma, the old memories and sensations not my own. If you wouldn’t mind maybe a dinner full of people who love me, and mean it when they say I am their favorite person. And maybe, while you’re at it. Just another cup of tea.
