Monday, September 6, 2010

"Virgin On The Ridiculous"

September.  The month of Virgo.  When seven turns into nine.  The third earth (sign) from the sun.  The Mercury Players.  Quicksilver Messenger Service.  I'm in the year of my Septembers.  Astrology used to play a large part in my pagan past.  I used to be into it a lot.  Every girl I dated, I needed to know when she was born, exact time and location.  The Sun sign was important, but so was Moon, Mars, Mercury, and especially Venus (heh-heh) and Rising.  Placement of the Moon?  Lunacy, perhaps.  It did seem that certain patterns emerged.  But, oh well. 

On early Space Pirate Radio shows, I even did a weekly astrological/astronomical outlook.  Telling the audience where the planets were and in what elements for that particular show.  It's not that I wanted to turn into Walter Mercado with a weekly los mundos astrologicos type of thing (I've never met the fellow, but I kind of like him even though he reminds me of a combination of Liberace meets Jon Anderson).  Those introductions disappeared after a while, but later on in the '80s, I got to know poet-astrologer Rob Brezsny.  He came on Space Pirate Radio, did a wonderful interview, promoted his book at the time, and I suggested that he do twelve astrological IDs for the show--a different one for each sign--which I would play at the appropriate time of the year.   In the ID, he would introduce himself, kindly say he was with yours truly, impart a bit of philosophical arcana, and then say that "today the Sun is in Virgo, the Moon is in Space Pirate Radio."  Twelve of these, which I could rotate throughout the year during the show within the music mix.  It added to the alchemy.

But back to Virgos.  Obviously I'm partial.  I understand the Virgo mindset.  Technically, extremely critical.  Virgo, the Critic it was sometimes called.  Perfectionist.  Analytical.  Twit.  Or twit like.  Definitely with essence of twit.  As in too witty.  Conway Twitty?  No.  Twit.  Sometimes appearing extremely cold and arrogant.  But that would be pure Virgo.  Being aware of the mix of elements, it's important to tone it down a bit.  For myself, I was glad to turn the earth into a bit of mud with a few water signs: Moon in Cancer, Cancer Rising, and the ever notorious and obsessive Venus in Scorpio.  You've seen my bathroom, haven't you? 

Virgos good and bad:  Roger Dean, the artist who designed the fabulous logo for Virgin Records, Virgo.  Romantic author Goethe, Irish fantasist Sheridan Le Fanu, and famed Ruskie Leo Tolstoy (hey, it's the Labor Day weekend...excuse me while I turn down The Internationale).  Greta Garbo was born on my birthday, that double G thing.  I'm a triple G myself (Garbo Talks, but Guden Walks!).  Frankie Avalon was born on my birthday too.  An early hero of mine, David McCallum, is a Virgo born on September 19.  In my high school years I often patterned my look on Illya Kuryakin:  long blond hair, black turtleneck, black coat.  I thought this cool Scotsman portraying a jazz-loving, Russian U.N.C.L.E. agent was the epitome of hip iconoclasm.  It wasn't until very late in life that I discovered quite the opposite about him.  This cool, mod Russian is actually a Socialist-fearing, Bush-loving conservative.  Oh god!  And I thought Thrush was the enemy!  More on this later. 

Lyndon B. Johnson was a Virgo.  That's awful.  Hated the man till he had a final days mea culpa.  Virgos don't normally get along with fellow Virgos.  I found this to be true.  In most cases, when I was single, if I met a Virgo woman, there was little spark between us.  So I never could understand the supposed romance between Peter Sellers and Sophia Loren, both Virgos.  Peter Sellers and Harry Secombe, fellow Goons, were both born on the same day, September 8.  And Sophia Loren is not the only beautiful Virgo.  Raquel Welch is also amongst the vestals.


Oh yeah, besides that David McCallum misinformation, I once thought that Twiggy might be my perfect soulmate.  This was only because she and I were born within 24 hours of each other: her in Neasden, UK; me in Detroit, USuck.  Oh well, that was probably a case of minor delusion.  I was in a movie with Twiggy, but unfortuantely I never met her.  Probably for the best.  If I had spoken about this, it might have come off as a bad scene from little known British cult film, Goodbye Gemini.  That would have been bad.  Nice soundtrack, though.