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Message from the Management: Heart Power

We are gliding into a more matter-of-factly fourth-dimensional, energy-is-matter Age of Aquarius. Think I’m being lofty? Consider the new-fangled electronics you count on that even ten years ago would have been inconceivable. Consider how the pull of digital information is now as real as the pull of “real life.” And consider how speculative fiction and animation now deliver more plausible interpretations of modern life than the navel-gazing, self-important balderdash that conventionally passes as serious fiction and live-action. It all comes down to a new plane in which gravity responds to time like any other object. Our feelings fold chronologies and our passions warp each other’s paths.

Which is to say I’ve been fully obsessed with how Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse and Russian Doll are showing us that personal and cultural trauma can’t be healed in linear time. I’ve gone on record before about the brilliance that is the Spider-Verse and Russian Doll is the best use of the freedoms and formats afforded by Netflix thus far–so good-looking, so funny, so 4D, and so old-girls-network. Creator and star Natasha Lyonne’s personal and ancestral Holocaust is alive and well in this futuristic past perfect and it’s a brilliant dig into the metaphysical black hole that is narcissism, as well as Lyonne herself. She’s so fabulously interstellar as this character, all her lives coexisting in that voice.

Too, I’m obsessed with how the present incarnations of the divine feminine are splintering ancient patriarchal prisons. Witness all the female politicians declaring their runs for president. All the women running last night’s Grammys show. All the lady artists and scientists shining like entirely new suns. Even this Breakup Bertha is reclaiming her spine and sense of humor.

I’m just so bowled over by how “kairos,” or soul time, is overpowering chronos, or linear time, for the first time since I’ve been alive. But of course I was born right as the 1960s were ending.

For sure this is connected to me finishing up the first draft of my memoir, which after all is a sort of time travel that I am writing and reading simultaneously. It’s a tesseract I’m authoring in bold pastels, a heart I’m mending in five dimensions. And now my dear friend (and talented IT specialist) Nefty is updating Signs and Sirens on a new hosting platform that will reflect all the progress and proactivity that’s taken place since its 2010 inception. So if this site behaves oddly in the next few days, it’s because there’s a blip in my time-space continuum–and thus yours.

The site should be back up and running by the weekend. In the meantime I’m forgoing my normal Valentine’s Day objections to bask in the big glow of divine creative consciousness. Lots of visual art, lots of theater, lots of music, lots of kindred spirits. And all Wednesday —V-Day Eve—I’ll be holding a Ruby Intuition salon with extra dustings of pink and red sparkle.

No worries if you can’t make it because everything happens when it should, especially when we trust that not all unknowns are the abyss. My work as a practical magician has taught me that there’s always more, especially when it comes to opening doors and windows. Scarcity thinking–surviving rather than thriving– has no place in any reality worth sharing.  Love is the only true currency.

To schedule an in-person or video-chat reading on Valentine’s Day Eve or any Wednesday or Saturday, get in touch. I can’t wait to see your sparkly self.

Blustery February

Begin here, as May Sarton always wrote when she closed the door to her study and sat down to write. Begin here. Ok. So. I’m just going to get all my blurts out so I can buckle down on Book. Feel free to roll your eyes for I am blatantly using this forum to glide into my Foxhole. I am sorry, dear Sirenader, you deserve better and I promise to do right by you soon. But just showing up at the plate today feels like a feat, what with this cold-cold-cold and brain sludge and financial worries and existentially broken heart and okay yes blurts. SO. I wanna write, stage, and star in a new Broadway production entitled SNOTSICLES! THE MUSICAL! to take place on the first day of Febrooooary and ALSO I want an appropriate occasion for the gorgeous ill-advisedly long earrings I was gifted for my birthday and ALSO I miss sex on the regular and ALSO It offends me that my ex no longer stalks me on social media though I stopped following him halfway through that disaster of a relationship and ALSO fuck valdeTrump GOP MAGA corporatized Dems too. ALSO I think I have bitten off more than I can chew with this book sheeeit why isn’t it done yet it’s never gonna sell ALSO Grey’s Anatomy slayed last night and I 100 percent can defend my continued passion for the show ALSO should it bother me that I am a 48-year-old woman who still wears pigtails? Probably OK THANKS SEE YA SOON. (I hope.)

Pardon the Mess, I Live Here

I have known K since our late 20s–actually I turned 30 a few days after meeting him*–but we only became solid friends in our 40s. First he had a crush on me and I found him esoteric. Then I had a crush on him and he found me extra. Only now that we’ve outgrown feeling slighted by people who don’t desire us have we become good friends.

It’s the best.

Because we are neighbors, we often meet up for coffee, go on rambling walks, help each other out. We have seen each other through some very hard times–illnesses, deaths, breakups, poverty. Neither of us are out of the woods in that final category, and we talk about how being broke is different when you get older. Aging is a constant undercurrent of our conversations.

Perhaps I should say overcurrent because the topic looms. Continue Reading →

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