FUCK how are you so cool and creative and inspiring wtffff. THIS IS THE NICEST QUESTION IN THE WORLD.

See this was such a beneficial question because I actually got to learn a lot more about astrology, since I wanted the directors to be coherently placed within the sun/moon/rising meanings. And you know I don't know shit about astrology, you're my source of knowledge. OKAY LETS GO.

The Sun, as my essence, has to be Gregg Araki. Man, this is so stupid, but I get tear-eyed just thinking about him and what his movies have meant to me. Araki must be the director who's defined most of the paths I've chosen to take in terms of my identity and self expression; the one who's truly talked to my soul, like a mirror, allowing me to finally see myself in something.
My memory's fresh as if it were yesterday, the first time I watched Totally F***ed Up, I sat in silence for a long time, trying to place my feelings within my body, that felt so ecstatic it could explode. Until then, I led a life of deception and repression — I didn't even know. When we're dissident, we learn to cut the roots of every strange flower that wants to bloom on our soil. And up until then, I had cut innumerous roots of innumerous flowers: my sexuality, my gender expression, my spiritual beliefs (or, in this case, non-beliefs), the very right to exist in the world — that at that point, I thought I didn't have.
Of course it took me years to slowly, but surely, unlearn all the thoughts that held myself back from living my true and honest life, but I like to think that Araki opened the door that allowed me to lead that way, or better saying, he showed me I could plant my seeds and let them grow. I now cultivate a garden of the strangest flowers, they're very loved, and oh... not strange at all! I could talk about it all day, it seems, but to cut it short, I believe Gregg Araki movies have caused such a deep identification with who I am, and at the time, couldn't fully be... that's why he's my essence, because at times, even when I couldn't show it, he was still representative for the person I am, that will always peak through the cracks, even with my attempts to hide it.

The moon... obscure, mysterious. The inner world is an ocean full of surprises, that we spend our lives learning how to navigate. Wait... are we talking about David Lynch?! I don't think anyone fits here better, he himself said he had a connection with the moon, didn't he?
I like to think I'm steady. That I've already figured my mind out by the age of 13 and from then on I'm just living within it's set of rules and predicting every feeling and reaction I might have. But sureness is a thin veil, and our mind leaves no space for it! My feelings lead me to unknown places, and I live on the edge of them — always being surprised, because although all of my attempts to decipher where my inner world wants to take me, the way still seems so foreign. You could think you know where a Lunch movie is going, but boy will you be wrong! You'll be grabbed by your heart before you know it, and then, sit with yourself and your feelings for once to try and figure out what that meant to you. Lynch is a revealer, but not on the expected sense. He awakens the curiosity, but doesn't show you the path, you have to find it by yourself. I feel like my mind plays the same trick on me, it's mystery is of such heights that I'm always having to lead obscure paths to find out what it means; what it wants. The fun part is, you enjoy the ride, and when you get to the other side it is, more or less, hopeful...
Sometimes a Lynch project can keep you in constraints of the most strange agony, sitting deep in your stomach; but he never leaves you in that dark. If anything, I've learned a lot about how things could be better with him, even amongst the horrors. I feel, Lynch films.

My rising is how I present myself, and it all got really confusing here. I have a strained sense of self, I basically don't know who I am out of my head. Funnily enough, I feel like that shows. I'm often described as quiet, "in my head", introvert... the list goes on. What I can say is that living in my inner world so much creates a paradoxal bridge that allows this world outside, ironically, my inner world becomes also the outer one. There's no clear distinction between the two.
Man how I wish Cronenberg would fit in this list, but this post has to go to Chantal Akerman.
How I am in love with her films. They feel like guts spilled out, like vomiting your feelings even when they're bad, when they're ugly. There's no shame in what she chooses to let us see. Eventually, everything is shown, she's very transparent, I think that best describes it. The thing is, if you've never watched any of Akerman's work, this description my lead you to think her movies are loud, dramatic, emotional blockbusters... but it's quiet the opposite. She builds her tension on the mundane, on silence, the secret and the sacred. Often her films feel like something that could be happening anywhere, with anyone.
That, to me, is the very structure I think I present myself in. My dearest friends, who know me well and lovingly, might tell you some crazy stories I've been involved in. Or might talk about me with and enthusiasm that makes me seem like a strident ball of joy or something... but none of that translates. My emotional highs (and look, they're many) often happen embedded in quiet... I am that introspect I present myself as even at the greatest of feelings. And Chantal Akerman is, to me, the master of introspective films that carry a heavy emotional load.

THAT WAS SO FUN I LOVE YOU I LOVE MOVIES