Whoa, dudes, um, like, got a whole bunch of half-baked posts germinating, but can’t bring anything to completion. Maybe it’s like, y’know, something to do with like retrograde Saturn like moving away from opposition to my natal Sun whilst Uranus is like fixing to go stationary retrograde like five minutes shy of my natal Sun in a few months and like right before that like Jupiter is like conjunct both of them, which means, um, yeah, I’ve gotta stay totally grounded and centered, man. Like, uh, time to chillax to some chillwave and contemplate what style of ironic mustache I’ll grow.
Anyway, rendered in common English, I guess what I’m trying to say is that either this blog will burst with a meadow of psychedelically colored posts in the next week or two — and for those of you who know me, don’t worry; I’m utterly straightedge and committed to the clean and sober life, although my mind tends to invent its own weird little drugs — or else I’ll be that guy stumbling up 21st Street, mumbling and babbling to random strangers about Uranian energy and what it does to people it comes into direct contact with.
And for those of you in Sacramento who might be curious as to what happens when the transiting planet Uranus conjoins a person’s natal Sun, watch me, and artists John Stuart Berger and Skinner, and musician Josh Chesney, to see if there’s any effect on our work. I have no idea, really, but concerned astrology-minded friends have been e-mailing me certain articles to make sure I’m forewarned to stay grounded, and not go off the deep end this summer. If anything, though, I’ll just crank up the funny.
Cowabunga, baby. Let’s go trippin’. —Jackson Griffith
ps: Speaking of 21st Street, that new Indian restaurant Bombay Grill is open, and they’re open every night until 11. Haven’t tried their aloo samosas, benghan bharta, saag paneer, nan, etc., but 11 every night is a good sign, no?