Afallenvenusian - A Fallen Venusian
More Posts from Afallenvenusian and Others
Ryan Coogler in this interview describing Marvin Gaye's "I Want You." Sexy as hell.
"I'm strong enough to take, but I want you to want to be taken."
"I can't cry anymore, that you're not around..."
May 4, 2025
Daily writing is back. One: I can feel the gray clouds of void (shouts to The Thunderbolts*) rolling over the horizon which means your girl needs habits. Daily assignments that get me moving when my mind tells my body to retreat. Two: this also helps with cultivating gratitude because when I don't know what to write, "What are you grateful for?" is a solid prompt. Three: actively working with Human Design means doubling-down on what I love to align with my Strategy. Even when I don't know what to say, my body lights up over a keyboard with an empty screen. Authority doesn't get more sacral than that.
So, here I am. May the Fourth be with me or whatever.
I knew something was off yesterday when a friend canceling our plans to hang out at the art museum (mere hours before we were scheduled to meet up) sent me on a spiral. I was already planning my outfit. I was looking forward to catching up, seeing where she is in life, and if I'm honest, performing my personality a bit. I have Leo Rising with a Sun in the 3H – conversation is my stage du jour. Being robbed of the spotlight for an afternoon not only had me ready to rage but activated a "Hey. What if your perfect Solo lifestyle isn't so perfect after all? You wouldn't cling to plans to get attention if you didn't live alone" thought whirlpool. I won't tell you who that voice in my head sounds like because he is a politician, but let's just say he may or may not have had a dalliance with a couch.
Thankfully, The Thunderbolts* was showing at my neighborhood movie theater at the same time I would have gone to the museum. So I had something to get up and get dressed for. The movie not only hit (good for Marvel), but hit a little too hard. Then, my mother texting "Well, that sucked," in reaction to Miami Grand Prix Qualifying put a literal pit in my stomach on the drive home. And I had to concede that the Sunken Place was, indeed, calling because no way should a man I've never met driving too slow around a race track trigger that kind of physical reaction.
The outlook isn't great. Not alarming. But definitely giving "Meh. What's the point?"
I know from experience. There is no point. You put one foot in front of the other until a point finds you.
Step one: daily writing.
May 12, 2025
The weekend was good to me.
My mother and I celebrated Mother's Day at our favorite Spanish restaurant, over garlicky grilled octopus, glasses of crisp Cava, and a flurry of Formula 1 yapping. She's been brave enough to watch the 2021 season (I refuse) and couldn't stop marveling over Max Verstappen and Lewis Hamilton nearly killing each other several times over on track.
We've had our ups and downs. As she nears retirement age, I can accept that she's a great mother now for whatever she lacked in my childhood. It doesn't erase the bad, or make up for it really. But I have to give her the chance to be good to me now, so should I have to care for her at some point in the future, I can do so out of love. Not bitter obligation.
Saturday was spent out and about in my neighborhood. In the morning, I took my cheap Vivatar digicam to the Farmer's Market while I sipped coffee and people watched.
It reminded me of sitting on the porch as a kid. Hearing loud music from cars thumping up and down the block, watching neighbors tend to their yards.
Stopped home for lunch then headed back out for a quick glass at my Neighborhood Wine Bar. As Mike (the grumpy owner who's become an adopted uncle of sorts) poured the last of a Sancerre he’d sampled with other customers that afternoon, he remembered the name of a woman who accompanied him last time he went to Croatia. “It was Kathleen,” he said. Apparently, one of his other frequent travel companions had to refresh his memory.
(Michael and his travel companions are a long story. For now, just know this man is a 71 year-old Gemini who, up until recently, had a solid roster of eight to nine women, all at least 15 years younger than him. And I know this to be true because I saw them all at his 70th birthday party, hanging out like sister wives.)
Seeing that Mike was kind of over it for the day, I jaunted over to a new Italian spot I've been meaning to try out. And had — hands down — the best mussels I've ever had in my life. The broth was... good lord. I had to order some Focaccia on the side to make sure I didn't waste a drop. The bartender was so amused by my theatrics (listen, I love good food and am not shy about it), she comped one of my two glasses of wine.
I will definitely be back.
Next month. For the rest of May, we have food at home.
