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Everyone’s a Superstar to Orbit

As you know, I don’t put much stock in the changing of the calendar year. But I do put stock in what you put stock in—much like the transformative power a beloved object holds after years of us cradling it. So I can feel your resignation and disappointment seeping away tonight—the hope you are harboring however cautiously—and I love it. More than that, I love you. To that end, I offer only one piece of advice for this upcoming year: Do what your heart tells you. Not your brain, not your pelvis, not your ego, not your fear, not your past, not anyone around you. If there is one thing 2020 taught us: there is no institution more powerful than love. Trust this energetic field. More than that: Embody it.

So may we inhabit our bodies respectfully and joyfully in 2021. May we eschew punishing exercise and diet and clothing in favor of whatever helps us relish our bodies even more. And may we be more lovingly present with each other—more sensual, even when we’re not sexual—when we once again can play, dance, dress, dine, hug, smooch, fuck freely. Physical freedom is a gift. When we regain it, let us treasure it accordingly.

Astro PSA: Full Moon in Cancer

Most of us are spending this week between Christmas and New Years in our PJs, and tonight’s full moon in its home sign of homebody Cancer supports this impulse. But Capricorn season is always about reality checks, and with both the Sun and Moon conjuncting Chiron, the Wounded Healer, don’t be surprised if issues around intimacy and domestic stability come up to be healed. Honor whatever discordance you experience, because this last full moon of a truly heartbreaking year is here to help us release our impediments to true compassion and peace. So howl your heartbreaks at the moon, drop them in the water, maybe even burn them on a piece of a paper. All that matters is you make room for bigger and better love because that’s how we’re all going to heal in the year to come. As Alice Walker says: The way forward is with a broken heart.

Nimby Noel

This is a grinchy post about my neighbors. In this post, I am the grinch, for my across-the-hall neighbors are cheerful, well-intentioned 20somethings who are wildly in love, living their best life, and never anything but polite and helpful. They have carried out my garbage and carried up groceries and even taken my bulky air conditioners out of the window while my back has been in arrears. I am grateful to them, and have made sure they know. Unfortunately, they are also the loudest freaking neighbors I have ever had. Not to speak in terms of demographics, but he was born in Italy and she was born in Israel and those are two of the loudest human populations ever ever ever.*

These two talk loudly, move loudly, listen to music and television loudly, and have sex loudly (and authentically, thank god; there’s little worse than audibly faked pleasure). Would you believe they even eat loudly? Yes, you read that right. Through the wall we share I actually have heard them chew and swallow. Even permakitten Grace was startled, then appalled. And o my: I cannot tell you many times I have been jarred awake by peals of delighted laughter or the sounds of elephants bowling, aka them walking.

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