Here in New York, this weekend’s weather promises to be cool and rainy—growing weather, my grandmother would have called it. These sort of weekends are ideal for the deep-root work that liberates us to bloom like the most fragrant peonies, the loveliest lilacs. In Aries Season, intuitive readings are led by our littlest selves— the parts of us who must be re-integrated into our daily lives if we’re to activate the practical magic that is our birthright. Some of these parts aren’t easy but it’s my honor as an intuitive to reflect how endearing they also are.
All nature is absolutely beautiful art and so are we.
Easter is a weird holiday for me, as it no doubt is for many others. Growing up in Greater Boston with an aetheist Jewish father and a shiksa mother, the only people who thought I was Jewish were the gentiles. With the exception of my clan, the Jews of our town lived up on West Newton Hill–on the other side of the train tracks from my house; the right side, if you want the full metaphor. With my blond hair and messy small house I no more felt I belonged on the Hill than in my Irish-Italian neighborhood, known locally as the Lake.
During bar mitzvah season and the high holidays I was left out; on CCD Tuesdays (the Catholic kids’ equivalent of Sunday School) I was equally left out. But the worst was Easter, when Jews were blatantly maligned by the local priests, some of whom were later outed as pedophiles in the Boston Globe’s Spotlight investigation.
I inhaled the HBO Max/Channel 4 AIDS dramatic mini-series It’s a Sin in one day and am still thinking about it.
As someone who was in ACT UP and moved to the West Village in the early 90s, AIDS is never off my radar. I’ll never forget my beautiful young friends who seemed like ghosts even before they died. I’ll never forget equating sex with death even before I lost my virginity.
The London-set series has charisma to spare–hip-strutting, head-strong boys; head-spinning montages; spot-on 80s and 90s set and costume design; catchphrases! But it spares no soundtrack cliches nor no 90s-era micro-aggression: witness its centralization of white characters; the lack of sex life for the sole female protagonist, who seems to exist solely to caretake men.
I resist the critique that It’s a Sin fast-forwards too quickly, though. While I was still in my teens, the transition from carefree club life and wanton fucking to hospitals, funerals, and activism took place in the blink of an eye. Gender/sexual harassment/trauma was so widespread it was background noise–something you white-knuckled through if you wanted an apartment, job, not to get beat to a pulp. Believe me. As someone who has often called out aberrant behavior—who confronted the landlord who stuck his tongue down my throat, who refused to work for the newspaper editor who licked his lips while asking if I had a boyfriend–my career and livelihood suffered mightily.
Gen X is too hard on Z/millennials, but we resent younger people’s assumption that we’re oblivious to trauma. My generation of queers just was swamped with too much macro-aggression–mass extinction and existential horror–to tackle micro. Oh how this show captures that giddy ghastly time.
Here in New York, this weekend’s weather promises to be cool and rainy—growing weather, my grandmother would have called it. These sort of weekends are ideal for the deep-root work that liberates us to bloom like the most fragrant peonies, the loveliest lilacs. In Aries Season, intuitive readings are led by our littlest selves— the parts of us who must be re-integrated into our daily lives if we’re to activate the practical magic that is our birthright. Some of these parts aren’t easy but it’s my honor as an intuitive to reflect how endearing they also are.
Easter is a weird holiday for me, as it no doubt is for many others. Growing up in Greater Boston with an aetheist Jewish father and a shiksa mother, the only people who thought I was Jewish were the gentiles. With the exception of my clan, the Jews of our town lived up on West Newton Hill–on the other side of the train tracks from my house; the right side, if you want the full metaphor. With my blond hair and messy small house I no more felt I belonged on the Hill than in my Irish-Italian neighborhood, known locally as the Lake.
I inhaled the HBO Max/Channel 4 AIDS dramatic mini-series It’s a Sin in one day and am still thinking about it.
–my career and livelihood suffered mightily.