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Coming at You

This is the most silent I’ve been on this blog since its inception, and I offer no apologies. There are six planets in retrograde–Mars and Mercury are especially packing a punch–and we’ve been knee-deep in eclipses. So I’ve been surrendering to the universe big-time, riding its waves and heeding its gory lessons, and hope you’ve been doing the same. Rest assured, if you haven’t had a tumultuous summer, you haven’t been doing it right.

Mars retrograde suffers no fools; it’s all about teaching us how we hold ourselves back in our relationships and in pursuit of our dreams.The best thing we can do right now is revisit old patterns so we can blow them up. Yep, you read that right. BLOW THEM UP. The good part is sex–sexy dreams, sexual revolutions, sexual evolutions. For while Freud said everything was about sex, I think sex is about everything else–about igniting all walks of life—and there’s a pulse thumping that wants to transform your rhythms. So go ahead and succumb (pun intended). Sex with yourself counts, maybe the most, so don’t ignore this siren call just because there’s no object of your desire.

Of course, with this Mercury retrograde in proud, proud Leo, you can bet there have been a lot of ruffled and kerfuffled feathers. If I’m being honest, I haven’t been doing tons of Ruby Intuition readings because it’s difficult to analyze the storm while it’s still raining–not to mention that I prefer to serve cream with my coffee and none of us have been on our best behavior. But now that eclipse season is coming to its thunderous conclusion–Saturday’s is going to be a doozy, dear ones!–my mind’s eye is clear as a bell. Do let’s learn together what the heavens have been trying to teach you. I’ll be available for Massachusetts readings August 13-23, and to my fellow New Yorkers for the rest of August. Get in touch.

Augusts (Not August) Past

Once I had a girlfriend from Venezuela, and whenever she kissed me, she’d run her hands through my hair and laugh. “You have a baby’s hair,” she’d say in Spanish, and I wasn’t fluent enough to tell if if she was mocking me or complimenting me.

Really, what she was doing was comparing me to someone else, which is never a compliment to anyone.

This woman had thick, dark hair that framed her face in tight ringlets, and the effect always took my breath away. She was neither feminine nor masculine, nor was she especially gender-neutral. She was just extremely beautiful in a self-made way. She wore enormous green glasses and lots of layers in different shades of the same color, and she had very long lashes and very soft skin and very hard muscles. I liked touching her and I liked her touching me, and we were always better off when we didn’t talk much.

For one thing, she had a wife whom I knew, and whenever my girlfriend and I talked at any length she always assured me they had an open relationship. When she did this, I hated us both, for the lie was so grossly apparent that it cheapened us both.

Still she smelled and felt wonderful and I liked our small adventures–we’d meet somewhere off our beaten tracks for an afternoon drink and then fall into a sex warp in a hotel room until she had to go to some couple’s thing. My girlfriend seemed more aroused by betrayal than any physical act, but I’d thrill every time we’d fall into bed. Continue Reading →

Rise and Toil and Thank Your Lucky Stars

I woke thinking about how, when I was a kid, you’d still encounter elders with numbers tattooed on their arms. If you were a Jewish child in the 1970s, you knew those numbers were not like other tattoos. You knew they were from the Camps. And even if you didn’t entirely understand what the Camps were, you knew they were the worst places imaginable, that they haunted your grownups more than dark closets and spiders could ever haunt you. I woke thinking about all this, and it made me dive immediately into my writing rather than succumb to the hour of lollygaggging and whining that usually precedes my book production. Because I am free to do what I think I’m meant to do, and I cannot take that for granted, especially in Trump’s America. My line did not survive so that I could merely sit on my ass. None of our lines did.

"All, everything I understand, I understand only because I love."
― Leo Tolstoy