Former Charmed actress Rose McGowan joined in the Twitter conversation about #WhyWomenDontReport sexual assault on Thursday with her own story.
Saying that it was “time for some (expletive)” honesty in this world, she listed the reasons she didn’t go to the police to report her own rape by a Hollywood executive: “Because it’s been an open secret in Hollywood/media (and) they shamed me while adulating my rapist. Because my ex sold our movie to my rapist for distribution.”
The news that the universe has 10 times as many galaxies as we thought brings on a mind-numbing sense of expansion very similar to my recent feelings upon immersing myself in social media. We are little drops of water in a very big ocean, and the continuous wavelike churning of information will never cease. I’ve been seeing the ghost of my old friend, Fignolum, recently. He reminds me that “If you don’t want to be there, you can always not be." The spirit world is getting clearer for me every day, and the Trump/Clinton election is reminding me every day that the country I live in isn’t really that interesting, and neither are the people who live in it.
What did I sit through all this strangeness for, this 47 years of pscyhedelia and a covert war against the clowns of evil? I don’t know, but it’s a little off-base for me to claim to worry about it, as I can feel the supernatural energies directing my life and this makes most of the intellectual debates of the earth irrelevant.
The weekend is starting off well. I haven’t really gotten out of bed yet. I have a lot of cleaning to do. I have a lot of answers to come up with about why everything is happening. I am inching on to the web via social media, kneading my sense of identity back and forth between Aquarian and Piscean, future and past, public and private, getting a little sharper every time. There’s actually a very powerful presence looming over me now, which I am trying to ground. Perhaps it’s my angel of Saturn.
I just had the idea of making an analogy between my angels and rock guitarist. Genevieve, my angel of Venus, is like Brian May of Queen, elegant and classical. Sandra, my angel of Saturn is like David Gilmour. And now that they are in alignment, here comes my third angel, who is like Jimi Hendrix. I still haven’t gotten a name for her I’m comfortable with.
What sense of their presence am I to communicate? This is the question now.
What’s public and what’s private? I can’t come up with answers right of the top but each blog post is like a snail-trail leading me toward some key element of persona that will let me fulfill my angelic destiny and resolve the strangeness of the life I’ve known.
Self-experession? Cocreation? Hierarchy? Where is the nexus point? Perhaps in the pain I experienced that I have been discussing, the "Comfortably Numb” balance point between earthbound life and exalted travel across the dimensions.
Disney is currently No. 1 at the 2016 box office this year with $2.1B, roughly $617M apart from Warner Bros. at No. 2, and that gap is going to get wider in the fourth quarter. Disney kicks off the first of three holiday titan tentpoles on Nov.
Ray will produce with Gordon Gray. Written by Miguel de Cervantes in 1605, the story is about a lower class aristocrat named Alonso Quixano who goes insane and comes to believe that knights, maidens and dragons exist in real life.
