ARIES Mar 20 — Apr 19
There is a poem by Borges in which the old writer mentions the joy of encountering an unexpected etymology, a joy that I too feel, each and every day. You see Aries, reading the stars is like learning a new word all the time, in an alphabet that’s always changing. I’ve got one for you: “ezzerallienescent,” the love of a corner booth in the changing light. Do we understand each other?
TAURUS APR 20 — MAY 20
Snakes in your boots? Moons in your buckets? What’s the skinny Taurus? You’ve had a sly-sly grin for the past little while… Are you — dare I say it — happy? It’s been a rocky road for many this past dark month, but you’ve taken all the bumps and turned them into delicious morsels of total goodness. Are you a dark wizard of transubstantiation? Does your power come at a price? Yes.
GEMINI MAY 21 — JUNE 20
Some people still seem to think that if you’re dreaming about falling and you don’t wake up before you hit the ground, you’ll die. Sounds crazy, but it just might be true. Or wait, maybe we’ve all died and this is Heaven? Or Hell? Or are we all having the same metaphysical crisis, the one we choose to call “life”? Gemini, I can’t explain it, but I know it’s gonna be all right for you.
CANCER JUNE 21 — JULY 22
Yes, Cancer, it is possible to love two people at the same time. Love is not a concept that allows for the idea of “limitation” — it is an endless source, flowing forever to the sea of the Other. Which totally means you shouldn’t feel too guilty about that wicked crush you’re cultivating at Pilates class. C’mon, you’re only human, and nothing’s going to happen — or is it? (It might.)
LEO JULY 23 — AUG 22
“The steam pushes it forward” is not an acceptable answer to the question, “How do steam trains work?” Yet you insist, Leo, on not really thinking about the problems put to you — terrible! Try the following: for the entire week, whenever anybody asks you a question, discard the first thing that comes to mind and after five minutes, respond. If anyone’s still there, they’re sure to like the answer.
VIRGO AUG 23 — SEP 22
Nepotism is made to sound like a dirty word, when it’s really just a basic bio-evolutional imperative. Seriously, even in the world of the astrology guilds of Lappland (from whence my knowledge derives) it all depends on who you know. So I find it a little self-important of you Virgo, to ignore all the help at your disposal from those who know and like you. Just take it, will you?
LIBRA SEP 23 — OCT 22
The second half of the first decade of the 21st century. Wow. Oh-six. Libra, this is your year, dog! Your annus magnificat awaits! But for all of it to come to fruition, you have to abstain from the following things: any film starring a Sutherland (Kiefer or Donald), white rum, racquetball, fantasy novels by Lloyd Alexander, and finally, tapioca. It won’t be easy to go without, but it’ll be worth it.
SCORPIO OCT 23 — NOV 21
There will always be problems. There will always be something better around the corner/across the fence/down the road. There will always be gravity. There will always be gravy. There will always be the ineluctable pull of the unknown. But you know what else there will always be Scorpio? Another chance, another morning, another pretty streetlight reflected in a Midtown puddle. Chin up.
SAGITTARIUS NOV 22 — DEC 21
Making your own clothes from scratch may sound like a charming opportunity to get in touch with your material world, but really Sagittarius, unless you have the free time of a trustfunder, you’ll go nuts trying to knit a simple girdle. I really think these kinds of undertakings are inauthentic and a waste of time. Why don’t you focus on the one thing you really, truly love to do? Bowling! (Dad?)
CAPRICORN DEC 22 — JAN 19
This is your time of the year, Cappy. When the snow is crisp and even beneath your feet, and the frozen midnight crunch of ice echoes between the tenements. Everything is still and quiet. The bugs and smells are all asleep, waiting for the hot stench of summer. The wind makes speeches around city corners, that only you can understand. Hey, you should totally move to Reykjavik!
AQUARIUS JAN 20 — FEB 18
The Age of Aquarius hasn’t exactly turned out to be gangbusters, has it? Sorry kid, them’s the breaks — but then again, you should be relieved by this. It’s like the first-born son with all the family hopes on his shoulders who eventually cracks and starts synthesizing opiates from boiled-down fashion magazines. The pressure’s off now, you don’t need to be the best. Time to have fun failing.
PISCES FEB 19 — MAR 20
I thought we were pals Pisces? What happened to all the note-passing and eye-winking and hallway high-fiving? And when you tell me you’re “busy for the next few months,” it really hurts me. And so what if this horoscope is more about me than you? In 2006, it wouldn’t kill you to try listening to the problems of others. Be a reliable shoulder for once, you might even like it.

ARIES MAR 21 - APR 19
You’re sitting by the window. The sun has set and the seabirds are coming inland, curiously silent. There is red in the sky, in that part where it meets the coming night. You look back, back into the furthest, forgotten parts of your life and it is tiring to see how much life you have led. Aries, do you have it in you to keep on? To put one foot in front of the other? Yes. You. Do.

TAURUS APR 20 - MAY 20
One of the more aesthetically challenged words in the language is “panties.” It manages to be dirty without being sexy — which is plain wrong. File under other wrong things: vegetarian cheesesteak, rollerblade hockey and your notion, Taurus, that if you ignore the problem it’ll go away. Most of the time that’s true, but not in this case. Quick, before it bites you in the ass, deal with it.

GEMINI MAY 21 - JUNE 20
Money. Unfortunately we need it. Only the very rich believe that shit about happiness not being for sale. Frankly, even if the good life can’t be bought, the bad life can be bought out of. But then again, Gemini, your fixation with things pecuniary has, of late, been exceedingly garish: check-splitting to the ha’penny, drinking no-name orange soda… c’mon, you’ll be fine, don’t be such a miser.

CANCER JUNE 21 - JULY 22
You’ve found yourself in some pretty sticky wickets, Cancer. Real tight spots. And though you’ve acquitted yourself well some of the time, I think you need to revise your crisis strategies. Try this: next time you find your back up against the proverbial wall of spikes, just start singing ‘Kiss’ by Prince, in the craziest, funkiest falsetto you’ve got. Trust me, the pain will dissipate.

LEO JULY 23 - AUG 22
Candy canes and bawdy limericks. Walking sticks and bar stools. Skipping-stones and love notes in the linen closet. The world is full of beautiful, unusual pairings. Take your own circumstances, Leo. I won’t pretend to know the exact details, but somewhere in your life such a pair exists, and I sense that you’ve been neglecting it, taking it for granted. And, d’uh, that’s a stupid thing to do!

VIRGO AUG 23 - SEP 22
Said the clam to the peppershaker: “Time is immaterial when you’re waiting for nothing.” Said the peppershaker to the clam: “Thyme is ethereal when you’re making stuffing.” Said the clam to the astrologer: “Holy shit, this conceit is labored.” Said the astrologer to Virgo: “Have you thought about cutting back on the trans fats and the crappy TV?” Have you? Me to you, seriously: Have you?

LIBRA SEP 23 - OCT 22
I think about your upcoming month Libra, and all I can see is a pair of klieg lights. I can’t tell whether they’re illuminating a glamorous premier or chasing after your shadowy heels during an ill-advised jailbreak. The point is, I guess, the spotlight is going to be all over you, every inch of your existence — but will it be positive, or negative? It’s up to you.

SCORPIO OCT 23 - NOV 21
Well Scorpio, rumor has it that you’ve been trying to write your own horoscopes. And while I find it charming that you would dare venture into the murky realm of the haruspex, I worry that you’re out of your depth. To grapple with the power of the future is to face one’s deepest fears and touch bottom in the wading pool of expectation. Do you have any idea what I’m talking about? Lil’ help?

SAGITTARIUS NOV 22 - DEC 21
We were all once superstars. To our parents. To our one friend who was always a level down from us in the social pecking order, who we kept around because they made us feel smarter/prettier/taller. But now, as adults, we are not superstars (unless we actually are, which is a whole other subsection of hell). But maybe Sagittarius, just acting like the world is at your feet is enough. Maybe.

CAPRICORN DEC 22 - JAN 19
Pessimism, publicly expressed, is ridiculous. It’s just a declamation of neediness, of concern that one isn’t being taken seriously. Gloom and doom makes all the headlines and gets people’s attention — but it doesn’t really accomplish much, does it Capricorn? Every time you feel compelled to make a pissy comment about how tough things are, try just complimenting someone.

AQUARIUS JAN 20 - FEB 18
I read in a book that Aquarians are descended from aliens. But not the crazy tentacled kind, the ones who are just a little bit off in the head, the ones who are eccentric and opinionated and impulsive and plain old kooky — that’s right, I’m talking about Plutonians. I don’t necessarily believe this book, but it does make a lot of sense, doesn’t it? (If you are an actual alien, please don’t probe me.

PISCES FEB 19 - MAR 20
You’ve heard of bibliomancy? The parlor distraction whereby a person lets the pages flip randomly and the sentence upon which the finger falls reveals something about the future? Ok, whatever. Television-o-mancy! Tonight, after you’ve read this Pisces, I want you to begin at 8pm and turn to channel 27 (your past); 8:40, channel 51 (your present); and 9:09, channel 7 (your future!)