3 February 12020 is the day after Groundhog Day, when everything repeats and nobody seems to know the previous day happened. And it’s Elizabeth Blackwell’s birthday—also Gertrude Stein’s. My machine is really acting flaky now—not only is the r key stuck, but the device is turning itself off and on without any human intervention. I’m not happy with this, but, you know, it is what it is and there’s nothing to do except deal with it. And my cough is as bad as ever—maybe worse today.
Are we downhearted? You bet we are! Enthusiastically downhearted, I’d say. With Venus in sextile with Saturn it’s a good time to seek out like-minded people and invest in something you love—art, maybe, or a positive-looking political candidate. (Not, say, Montana state Representative Rodney Garcia, who thinks the federal constitution calls for his political opponents to be shot.) In history this is the day of Batepá massacre in São Tomé (1953) and the day the music died in Iowa (1959), but as I know nothing about either event and haven’t had the time to learn I guess they’ll just have to lie there. Maybe next year, if I live so long.