New Moon, Old Goat
Tonight we usher in a new moon in Capricorn, just as we land at the midpoint of Mercury retrograde in the same sign. This is an opportunity to set soul goals—nothing pedestrian, mind you, but the deepest shit, the common denominator of our many incarnations, the stuff we were put on Earth this time around to accomplish. Questions to ask: What do my head and heart agree I should do? How am I best of service? Cardinal Capricorn is the make-it-happen-captain energy, and with Sun, Moon, and Mercury retrograde currently in this sign, it’s high time to figure out how to put your meaning where your money is—or at least your money where your mouth is. Enjoy the vibration, because god knows you have no choice but to submit to its ancient, Saturnine lessons. As a Capricorn with an appreciation for the absurd, I love this moment madly. So the brilliant witch Cat Cabral and I read each other’s cards and called each other’s bluff among a swoon of roasted chicken, vino, candles, and a certain overfamiliar presiding for good measure. This is how you walk the Cappie talk: Embrace your coven, release what doesn’t shine on your celestial frequency, and, for heaven’s sake, say it, don’t spray it.
A Few Notes on Mating Rituals
The other day, I met a cute guy in a luncheonette. We exchanged numbers and flirty texts. Then he started messaging about video-gaming and I went radio silent. I am an old-school dame, and old-school dames don’t date boys (cis or trans) whose mating rituals include Mortal Kombat. Old-school dames prefer gentlemen who phone rather than text, speak in complete sentences rather than monosyllables and GIFs, and listen and learn as much as they hold forth. Old-school dames prefer suitors who ask, don’t tell, and old-school dames don’t chase so much as stride. Really, I most prize notes hand-lettered on engraved paper and stately walks through parks, but I’ll accept any heartfelt exchange that makes me shine, not shrink. True courtship entails communion, not coercion.
Melodrama, Distilled: ‘Julieta’
“Julieta,” Pedro Almodovar’s adaptation of the Alice Munro Runaway short stories “Chance,” “Soon,” and “Silence,” was meant to be his English-language debut. Instead, he rechristened the protagonist Julieta and swapped out Vancouver for Madrid, where he contrasted her quiet despair with the bright colors and patterns that are not only that city’s trademark but the Spanish writer/director’s trademark as well.
If at this point you are thinking, “Gosh, I didn’t know Almodovar had a new movie, let alone that he had adapted Alice Munro,” rest assured you are not the only one. Early festival circuit responses were so lukewarm that its regular theatrical release was buried, and it didn’t even make the Academy Award’s foreign-language short list. Certainly this film has not made any critical top-ten lists except my own. For while I agree with critics who claim this is “not Pedro’s best,” I happen to think his best film (“Todo Sobre Mi Madre”) is one of the best films ever made. “Julieta” is merely one of the best films of 2016. Continue Reading →