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Sagittarius Horoscope for week of July 7, 2016


Do you remember that turning point when you came to a fork in the road of your destiny at a moment when your personal power wasn't strong? And do you recall how you couldn't muster the potency to make the most courageous choice, but instead headed in the direction that seemed easier? Well, here's some intriguing news: Your journey has delivered you, via a convoluted route, to a place not too far from that original fork in the road. It's possible you could return there and revisit the options -- which are now more mature and meaningful -- with greater authority. Trust your exuberance.

I find that difficult to believe.  If I had been "courageous", I would have found a way to stay in Florida, where I would have had a better possibility of starting a career.  Granted, I'm only here in Tennessee because of my love for my parents and my hope to see them well.

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In the 1976/'77 scholastic year, I was a C student.  Except for my two worst subjects: Handwriting and Art, in which I was a D student.
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Easter Sunday will be the 18,000th day of my existance.
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Sagittarius Horoscope for week of February 18, 2016

Asking you Sagittarians to be patient may be akin to ordering a bonfire to burn more politely. But it's my duty to inform you of the cosmic tendencies, so I will request your forbearance for now. How about some nuances to make it more palatable? Here's a quote from author David G. Allen: "Patience is the calm acceptance that things can happen in a different order than the one you have in mind." Novelist Gustave Flaubert: "Talent is a long patience." French playwright Moliere: "Trees that are slow to grow bear the best fruit." Writer Ann Lamott: "Hope is a revolutionary patience." I've saved the best for last, from Russian novelist Irene Nemirovsky: "Waiting is erotic."

Because Time won't give me Time...

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In 1977, the only night of the week on which NONE of the three major U.S. television networks showed a feature film in Prime-Time was TUESDAY.
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Sagittarius Horoscope for week of October 15, 2015

One afternoon in September, I was hiking along a familiar path in the woods. As I passed my favorite grandmother oak, I spied a thick, six-foot-long snake loitering on the trail in front of me. In hundreds of previous visits, I had never before seen a creature bigger than a mouse. The serpent's tail was hidden in the brush, but its head looked more like a harmless gopher snake's than a dangerous rattler's. I took the opportunity to sing it three songs. It stayed for the duration, then slipped away after I finished. What a great omen! The next day, I made a tough but liberating decision to leave behind a good part of my life so as to focus more fully on a great part. With or without a snake sighting, Sagittarius, I foresee a comparable breakthrough for you sometime soon.

I could use a breakthrough.  I've been trying to reconcile my future with the fragments of my past that I have left.

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A couple weeks ago at the Knoxville IPMS meeting, a fellow member was clearing out his closet of old periodicals and some of us got to divvying the pieces among them.  When I saw that he had old issues of War Monthly and True War among them, I shamelessly scooped up as much of those as I could.

Both those magazines were influences on me, and perhaps more than I'd care to admit.

War Monthly was the product of the Marshall Cavendish publishing powerhouse, and (I felt) a good value for the combination of artwork, writing and layout work.  The articles would get repurposed into volumes, and from there sometimes into whole coffee table books.

True War, on the other hand, was the product of the notorious low-budget tabloid schlockmeister and pornographer Myron Fass at Countrywide Publications.  The only color content was on the cover, and the interior was made up mainly of archival or press-release photos and cut-to-the-bone prose.  True to form, their presentation on the Battle of Arnhem (for an example) was slimmer in both page count and journalist prowess as the photo spread of Cornelius Ryan's book A BRIDGE TOO FAR!  I got a replacement copy of an issue of True War I thought I lost in 1978 and now that I think about it, I think one of my parents could have thrown mine out in disgust.

To make a long story short, I couldn't afford as a kid to subscribe to War Monthly, and even if the option were available my folks probably wouldn't have condoned me subscribing to True War.  My main go-to publisher of magazines from then was Challenge Publications (Air Classics, Air Combat, Air Progress, Military Modeler, etc.).

But I'm glad to get back these.  And then I found a bunch of online sources for .pdf versions of War Monthly, so one way or another I have all the content from the get-go through to Issue 49.  The series lasted much longer than that, but the later ones are very hard to find because they were subscription-only and most went to library collections.

FP

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January: My best wishes to all my readers for this and every coming new year.
February: I don't know what I despise more...Having to watch my bandwidth like a hawk knowing that to stay under the limit I'll probably have to live without Internet for a few days in the middle of the month, or...Having the DNS server suddenly drop off for a couple hours at a time every so often.
March: Not the first time something like this has happened.
April: Come on now, Who do you, who do you, who do you, who do you think you are?
May: Blue Gender.
June: While I was asleep this morning, one of our family friends, Jessica, was here picking up a dozen eggs that Dad had gotten her from a nearby farm as per their usual arrangements.
July: My wishlists are a known quantity.
August: Yes, there are times when exercizing a fantasy is more satisfying than outright making reality of it.
September: I'd had a suspicion that the mockup fighter jet in DEAL OF THE CENTURY was based on a Learjet, and I'm still looking for harder evidence.
October: Channel 7-2 in Knoxville just tweaked their schedule again.
November: Well, after that incident in Morristown in which I heard some really nasty noises come from Moonshine's underside last week, Dad and I scrambled to find a repair shop to get her back to rights.
December: Over the weekend was the local IPMS club's Swap Meet, and I got several kits for very very cheap.
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I used to like having facial hair, in my end-of-teens into my twenties, but once my follicles there got tougher and tougher to manage, I value having a clean-shaven face--as hard as it is to get there.
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The early side of autumn in Florida, just before the love bug invasion.
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DULCE ET DECORUM EST by WILFRED OWEN

Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of tired, outstripped Five-Nines that dropped behind.

Gas! Gas! Quick, boys!---An ecstasy of fumbling,
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time;
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling,
And flound'ring like a man in fire or lime...
Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light,
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.

In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.

If in some smothering dreams you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin;
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,---
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est
Pro patria mori.
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As if you really have a choice in the matter. 1) Truly "bad" memories never let go, even through the best of efforts; all you can do is mitigate the damage. 2) OTHER PEOPLE are happy to remember for you stuff you want forgotten, for their own motives. That stinks. 3) Time is not kind to past happinesses. I don't think I ought to get into details.
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Partying Like It's...what year IS it, anyway?

Culture Club, "Do You Really Want To Hurt Me?"--LINKED because if you get EMBED with Boy George you have to live with the consequences.
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We really aren't this time around. We have candy for any kids who may show up, but there haven't been these last several years. I'm wearing my Desert Storm-vintage "chocolate chip" battledress top and pants--as per FreeWill Astrology's advice to emulate a "peaceful warrior", but that's the extent of my cosplaying. We haven't done any decoration and we aren't going to any parties or anything like that.

Halloween is a lot more fun for kids than adults these days. I have to agree with the types who say that mass media horror has gotten so saturated in the culture that the joy is drained out of the holiday in these times.
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Today in the mail I received...my wall calendar for next year. It's a freebie from Agilent Technologies' Aerospace & Defense division. (www.agilent.com/find/AD)

I've got loads of other things to do before January 2011 rolls around...but I'm already working on them. How about you?
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Today is my 16,000th day on Earth. Earlier in the year, I'd thought of celebrating this day instead of my birthday...but today it's harder to justify doing much of anything. Maybe over the weekend coming up...
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Out of Tennessee, I fervently hope.
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LINKED because there's no room in EMBED.

Naked Eyes, "Promises, Promises". From my sister's Frosh Year in college (Warren Wilson). A time of great anxiety, changes, transitions, and possibilities. We saw the coming of the month of August with a mix of excitement and dread. So much could go right. So much could go wrong. We never knew what.

I guess I'll ALWAYS see the start of August every year henceforth to my dying day the same way.

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Stephen R Bierce

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