Aquarius: Bateman or Batman?
After watching The Dark Knight (thorough astrological analysis to follow), I couldn’t help but contemplate…
Christian Bale is an Aquarius. Interestingly, Bale embodies the transcendent, positive qualities of the Water Bearer archetype in his role as Batman, while embodying the base, negative, fetishistic qualities of his sign as Patrick Bateman. Notice how the titles of his two most significant acting roles are separated by only one vowel. In truth, transcendent Batman and the profane Mr. Bateman are two sides of the same archetype.
Like all Aquarians, both Bateman and Batman are social critics, independent, estranged, rigid, pedagogical, dispassionate, unemotional, odd, objective, detached, unorthodox, mysterious, vanguard, alien, rebellious, complex, self-righteous, misunderstood, and completely unpredictable. Archetypically, the Aquarian represents The Wizard or The Magician. Both inventor and con-man, The Magician is the connection between the immanent reality of the material world and the transcendent reality of universal truth, the alchemical unas mundi. The Magician, like the Water Bearer, bridges the gap between the implicate and explicit order.
When we encounter The Magician in synchronous events (perhaps a chance encounter with a smooth talking Gemini or an eccentric Aquarian) or during a tarot reading, we are encountering a part of ourselves that is concerned with verbal and mental revelation. The Wiz, like the alchemical Mercurius, is paradoxically both human and alien, his wand or scepter serving as a conduit for universal revelation from above, conducting the power of transcendental truth (or alien technologies ala Chariot of the Gods) from far above to us down below.
Aquarian energy is similarly focused and paradoxical: they are at once the alien Batman swooping from the sky to institute social reformation, while living underground in a cave befitting a vagrant, alienated from the society he is so desperately in need of rescuing. The Wiz is an anonymous hero, more object than human, embodied in concepts such as Nietzsche’s Superhuman (übermenschlich) and Aquarian William S. Burrough’s infatuation with Scientology’s concept of the perfect human. Like Batman, the Aquarius man is adept at both walking and flying, he’s comfortable wearing a black vinyl unitard and swooping through the night sky, just as he’s comfortable wearing a suit and tie from the Men’s Warehouse his caretaker (usually a devoted and doting wife or girlfriend) dressed him in. Aquarians love hand me down clothing. Curing cancer and developing a working model of the universe comes naturally to the zodiac’s resident alien, but wearing human clothing isn’t something they concern themselves with. Perhaps this is why they love silly hats (usually a shout out to their pointy head-gear adorned archetype) and dress like clowns (The Juggler and carnival performer are incarnations of the archetypal Magi).
Less officially, my sister and I like to refer to Aquarians as the “Mork from Ork” of the zodiac. They’re fucking aliens. They’re Spasticus Autisticist. They’re your brother reading The Economist at your mother’s wake. They’re that discomforting weirdo you’re on a date with who just purposefully (unbeknownst to you, of course) rubbed food all over his face to make you feel uncomfortable (and here you just thought he was a messy eater, but actually, he’s testing your tolerance for oddities).
In my life, The Aquarian is my father, who is self-righteous and incorrigibly dogmatic, a hardnosed social conservative that doesn’t believe in progressive taxes or social welfare, but does believe in aliens, the holographic universe, illusory existence, and string theory. He’s a capitalistic hippie who loves a good argument, reading E.B. White while taking a shit, and the odd meal of fried lamb brains and pigs feet. He’s the odd duck, a brilliant ball of facts wrapped in an aseptic intellectualism that came crashing to the earth in the 1960’s via space wind from planet Your Anus. His head is shaped like a light bulb and he walks like an android. He talks the way I write. And he will make your butt sweat when he attempts to hug you because it’s cold, contrived, and in complete violation of his inherent nature.
How can you NOT love what an Aquarius has to offer?
The image of the Water Bearer we’ve come to associate with Aquarius is that of the Biblical Galahad, the Greek Ganymede or the Medieval Merlin, forever pouring the vibrating brain waves of knowledge and universal truth from his chalice (a.k.a the Holy Grail) onto the profane world (and yes, those are Alpha waves, not water waves):
Like the character of Batman, Aquarians are the humanistic saviors of the zodiac: they are reformers, rebels, and revolutionaries. Unlike its opposite sign Leo, Aquarius is concerned with society writ large, Society with a capital “S.” This is not a symptom of the fact that Aquarians lack an ego; au contrar, Aquarians cat fight with the zodiac’s lion for the title of Biggest Egotistical Maniac. Like Leos, they are self-righteous, self-assured, and self-possessed; however, Aquarian egotism is derived from the fact that they simply do not divorce their own self-interest from the prevailing universal interest… what’s good for the Aquarian is good for his or her family, country, the world, and– what the hell, probably the entire universe (rarely does an Aquarius, the zodiac’s psychonaut, not think in terms of the entire scope of reality). Just as my dad believes the entire world would be better off if social welfare, and the attendant taxes he pays, were done away with, all Aquarians construct their world view based on their subjective experience with little input from their emotions (read: human empathy). In fact, “emotions” might as well be conducted through dangly receptors fixed atop their head anyway: the Aquarian brain, unlike that of a water sign, truly mediates every aspect of their life. In this sense, Aquarians are not controlled by the executive centers of their brain as much as they ARE the lumpy, quivering gray mass of synaptic uptake we all think of as a part of our entire central nervous system. Appropriately, Aquarius rules the central nervous system in medical astrology. A gangly mass of brain waves and nerves, Aquarians are perhaps the most myopic, unempathetic sign in the zodiac… which brings me to our favorite sociopath, Patrick Bateman:
Patrick Bateman embodies the vibratory pattern of Uranus in his unpredictability and disaffection. He is nauseatingly superficial. Like all Wizards cooking up some convoluted potion/math equation/invention/manifesto in their lairs, his participation in reality is vague. His relationships are kept in the upper stratosphere of his brain, which is exactly why he can fiddle fuck with the most grotesque and improper sexual fetishisms imaginable. He’s removed:
“I have all the characteristics of a human being: blood, flesh, skin, hair; but not a single, clear, identifiable emotion, except for greed and disgust.” – Patrick Bateman
Fetishism is an Aquarian trademark, in both its traditional Marxist sense and its kinkier sexual sense. The Waterbearer is fixed-air (stubborn/focused-intellectual); thus explaining their inclination towards monomaniacal obsessions and very specific fetishes, such as sticking cheese in a woman’s smooch and having a mouse eat it out. Just as Bateman can languidly participate in fetishistic perversions without internalizing anything, he can also successfully perform normalcy and quotidian behavior with more gusto than his legitimately yuppie colleagues. His fluid vacillation between complete mind fuck serial killer and normal guy is derived from the fact that, while he may be physically engaged, his actual role in these behaviors is incredibly restrained. He’s present in body, but never in mind. In the words of my best friend Matthew, my favorite Waterbearer, Aquarians are “all form, no content,” or in the words of my second favorite Waterbearer:
“There is an idea of a Patrick Bateman. Some kind of an abstraction, but there is no real me. Only an entity, something illusory. And though I can hide my cold gaze and you can shake my hand and feel flesh gripping yours, and maybe you can even sense our lifestyles are probably comparable. I simply am not there.”
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