On the agenda, closing cycles

 

Pluto continues in fierce opposition to my Sun. I grit my teeth and digrify, while the Moon, in its waning phase, in my house of individuality intersects with my personal planets, having passed through my Mars and now intersecting with my ascendant. I want what the fuck. Jupiter and Mercury talk, where Mercury says it's time for me to quit tobacco, roll up my sleeves and get to life. And Jupiter says to her: Don't worry, old Hermes, I'll give you all this, as soon as my retrogradation begins, I don't know if with this girl, the thing will produce the effects. The only one who really believes in me, in my ability and resilience is my Mars who has sat down, since I was born, in the house of the self and keeps telling me: enough is enough, don't you think? How much more will you let your piece be eaten? And I listen to them all. My Venus divorced itself from the planetary Venus, like: what about me? And I add up what I can and now I start to reap what no longer serves me. In the distance, in my 5th house, I see Neptune making a beautiful trine with Kiron and Pluto, I know, I know! I don't need to be told anything. I'm going to break this whole internal shit. Everything that is inside, comes out. I'm going to take an anvil and demolish the whole house. Throw away the shit of the boxes, the postships, the talismans and totems that I collected for too long and everything goes through the windows, through the air, disappear into a thousand pieces. Saturn in Pisces making aspects, not with my Saturn in Aries, but with my Jupiter in the 3rd house, in Virgo. Don't talk to me about virgins, with this stellium of transpersonal planets, heavy in the 3rd house. How can I drag these heavy weights, I who need to change the furniture from time to time, to release energy?

Pluto, Uranus and Jupiter in Virgo, the fucking Wheel of Fortune that must have the weight of one of the empty coffers of Socrates' mother. Oh if I could, I would send this map to the lightning bolt to break it, but I can't, and I will enter the eclipse with Uranus watching me and wondering: will that donkey hold up with the novelty that I will bring him? I, the ass! I don't move. I play dead.  And I just ask Pluto to hold on a little longer, that's all I ask. That my migraine has returned, that heartburn has returned, that the ghosts have returned and I am cowered, here in the corner of the past, dressed in bulletproof, dressed in the beautiful designer dress, signed by the most respected designer, God Brahma. Well, let it rain pitchers and penknives, let Zarathustra and King Nebuchadnezzar, Apollo and Hades, Cervantes and Socrates come, why not?, come all of them, and I'm just going to put on my boxing gloves, to be really prepared. Meanwhile, I read the news diagonally. From the floods, from the fluctuating temperatures that address mercury, from the wars in the name of anything that has nothing to do with peace, that they repeat it in their voices to deceive themselves and others, that strikes will kill a few more, that hunger will be the protagonist in many latitudes and that Pluto is truly effective in cleansing the masses of the population. Well, the blame for the state of things is Pluto and the immense mercantilists, the blame for natural phenomena is overwhelming, but the grass in the neighboring garden will always be greener. 

Mars opposite the North node? Oh c'um carago! It's not a good sign, but I'll try to tune in to a new station, maybe the noises will turn into music in my ears!

Fuck OFf.