NOVEMBER UPDATE

November is one hell of a month for origin stories, and there’s some whoppers going around. But you can’t fool our spidey senses, which have nothing to do with logic, so forget trying to make sense of anything you read in the history books. The real past is dark. Real dark. So dark it had to be omitted from history.

Jupiter stations retrograde in Cancer while locked in a binding death-grip square with Eris, and suddenly, as everyone’s singing homecoming hymns and anthems, they’re startled to hear the misfits and outcasts be like, “Bitch, you locked us out, remember? You tried to strike us from the records!”

This probably won’t be your glad, long-awaited Thanksgiving reunion. Shit’s gone all septic back on the farm. Every family wound is likely to erupt simultaneously. While Jupiter wants us nestled in grandmother’s bosom, gathered by the fire, sharing pumpkin pie and ancestral tales—how great-grandpa screwed over those savage natives for this stretch of paradise we now call home—Eris, that feral goddess of the uninvited and the disappeared, is mustering beyond the hedges, fixing to throw molotovs through the window, screaming about generations of being told we’re too weird, too brown, too queer, too loud, too much.

The tribal pull is REAL. Your DNA literally aches for a sense of belonging, for those blood-deep connections that modernity murdered. But Eris keeps receipts of being scorned dating back to the 1800s. She remembers every family gathering where you had to shut it and perform “normalcy” or be ousted. Every ancestor erased from the family Bible. Every time “tradition” meant “shut up and conform (or perish).”

So here’s a cosmic joke you can tell: the very uniqueness that got you exiled—your refusal to play along, your insistence on being unfuckwithably yourself—is now your superpower. The mainstream narrative is in the final throes of collapsing. The centre cannot hold. The outcasts inherited the earth while the insiders were protecting their worthless thrones with the latest hi-tech surveillance equipment and armies funded by those tax dollars of yours.

November asks: Can you honour your roots without betraying your inner senses? Can you return home as yourself, not as the ghost they wanted you to be? Can ancestral healing include the fallen ancestors who never made it into the photos?

This year, the revolution starts at the dinner table, freaks…

Aside from Jupiter, Mercury (currently in Sagittarius) is now also retrograde. Sadge is ruled by Jupiter, and though Mercury is in detriment there, its station at 6° 51′ comes while it’s out of bounds—so not just big-mouthed, but completely off the rails, outside the usual ethics and protocol. It’s also perilously close to Mars, injecting pure adrenaline into every leaked document, every bridge-burning revelation, every “SEND ALL” twitch that probably should’ve stayed in drafts.

Mercury then dips back into Scorpio for a second opposition to Uranus on the 19th—forensic evidence meets anarchist’s handbook —before fusing with the Scorpio New Moon on the 20th. This is an intention to cut to the bone, ruthlessly expose what’s been festering, and make an irrevocable choice that forfeits comfort for blatant provocation and the satisfaction of watching power squirm under the consequences.

In a more personal sense, it mirrors the month-long Jupiter-Eris square: both can force a choice: keep adhering to the tribal lie or finally say exactly what you mean, even at the risk of blowing the whole thing up.

URANUS now slides back into Taurus for its final six-month drag, and the bill for the past seven years of techbulll comes due. Noticed how much we’ve thrown ourselves at crypto/bitcoin and AI— shit that has absolutely no real-world backing? There’s no gold standard or real talent behind much of anything built since 2018. During this period, we’ve seen how meme stocks, NFTs, Twitter, and the metaverse have already faced remarkable booms and setbacks; how app economies—Uber, Airbnb, DoorDash/Deliveroo, Instacart, BNPL schemes, online gambling, porn and even dopamine-drip shopping(Temu/TikTok Shop/Amazon)—have turned streets, rents, work, and even human relationships into a digital churn mill.

Not to mention, of course, the squillions siphoned from real infrastructure like health, education, and defence into the “remote” future—work-from-home bullshit, Zoom classrooms, app fixes, drone wars in foreign lands, etc, while back home, hospitals, schools, and bridges fall apart.

If you were to rebel against it all, how would you go about it? Stop investing in any of it??

Taurus demands tangible reality: cash flow, commodities, kilowatts, and food on shelves—not digital vibes and phony AI cat videos. When the dust finally settles and the numbers don’t add up, is this stretch… this next six months the cow-dung hill where the whole tech bubble finally comes to burst?