Wednesday, February 15, 2006
Your Horoscope This Week
Posted by Läps Trinity on Wed, Feb 15, 2006 at 12:00 AM
ARIES MAR 21-APR 19
We miss you, Aries. Hell, we’re all soft and weepy, frankly. Where did you go? What has become of that person we knew better than the streetlights and the puddles? Every now and then, the weight of your absence descends upon us like a breathless fog and we are blind with sadness. But you don’t see this, do you? You can’t see it. But maybe you’re not looking hard enough.
TAURUS APR 20- MAY 20
I saw a worm riding a robin the other morning, like a roughrider or a frothing Cossack or a dandy from the light brigade. It was half vision from hell, half heroic tableau, and it shook me, Taurus, shook me to the quick. The scariest thing was the face of the worm… that’s right, you know where this is going… it was your face on the worm! Ask yourself then, are you a Cossack or a dandy?
GEMINI MAY 21- JUN 20
There is a certain look people get, almost without knowing it, when they’ve realized they may not be eating the short end of the stick. A half smile, furtive, measured, irresistible, that seems to say, “Ok, just don’t fuck it up now, you might actually win one for a change.” I’ve seen this look on your face a lot Gemini, and it’s getting perilously close to a full smile. Watch it. Keep those cards close.
CANCER JUN 21- JUL 22
Down by the riverside we waste away; moss gathers on the soles of our boots; birds play desultory bridge in our unruly coiffeurs; and with every second the water comes ever closer to washing away our dirty sins. But what happens when the river freezes, Cancer? Will we skate across its iron-gleaming surface into a brighter future? Yes we will. For we are the hockey-playing angels.
LEO JUL 23- AUG 22
Get a permanent! Buy a new crinoline! Wax the dog! Damn it, Leo, get out there and treat yourself to something special! I know you feel like you don’t really deserve it, but that’s just bullspit. You’ve put in a good 5 months, 14 days, 3 hours and 21 minutes. The weird thing is how freakishly intense you are about keeping everything so exactly timed. That’ll just give you a rash.
VIRGO AUG 23- SEP 22
Talking to yourself is most certainly not a sign of craziness. It’s actually indicative of a refined mind. When you think about it, everyone’s pretty much a nutjob, the only difference is that the ones we label “wacko” are the ones who aren’t able to conceal the faulty wiring. So, Virgo, you’re not “crazy”, ok? You are, however, crazy. But at least you’re not alone.
LIBRA SEP 23- OCT 22
Sometimes you sink, sometimes you swim; sometimes you get the bull, sometimes the bull gets you; but the toast always lands butter side down. Though they can become tiresome, clichés exist to serve us, like garden tools, or hang gliding instructors. So Libra, if someone tells you “your eyes are like deep blue lakes,” try not to laugh, it could really break someone’s heart [sob].
SCORPIO OCT 23- NOV 21
The silent treatment is not a medically accepted way of treating a perceived insult. It’s the equivalent of the old Lappish fishwives’ healing wisdom that thinks cat penises are a good way of alleviating grumpiness. What I’m saying, Scorpio, is that you’re employing too many cat penises these days, when what you really need are dolphin dreams. (Used to cure insomnia. Try them.)
SAGITTARIUS NOV 22- DEC 21
There’s an old saying, from some famous womanizer or another (Marlon Brando? Caligula? Gertrude Stein?) that every woman has something beautiful about her; and though I’m not normally the sentimental type, this little axiom gets my eyes all misty. Oh Sagittarius, I think you’re beautiful, inside and out, and if that makes me a gushy flatterer, you’re just gonna have to sue me!
CAPIRCORN DEC 22- JAN 19
A spiritual/aesthetic world journey is what’s called for. First of all Cappy, we have to accept the sad fact that you won’t be taking any spectacular global tours in the near future. But the powers of food-pretend are great: baguette (France) with gouda (Holland) and olives (Spain) — see, you’ve already been all over Europe! The human superpower is self-delusion. I suggest you employ it.
AQUARIUS JAN 20- FEB 18
The jackknife is your totem, Aquarius; it’s in your very blood, coursing sharp and thirsty through the pulse of your daily life, ready for all tragedy, all joy. So what does that mean for you? Well, try to avoid careers in which the atmospheric pressure changes a lot: elevator pilot, refrigeration mercenary, dog mimic... You really gotta take it easy — after all, there’s a knife in there somewhere!
PISCES FEB 19- MAR 20
Sometimes perfect strangers can be more insightful about who we really are than our closest intimates. Just the other day I was out walking the dog when someone driving by yelled, “Hey! Great looking dog!” and I thought to myself, ‘yeah, I am a great looking dog.’ So when I tell you, Pisces, that you’ve got really lovely hands, I think you should just take that at face value.
We miss you, Aries. Hell, we’re all soft and weepy, frankly. Where did you go? What has become of that person we knew better than the streetlights and the puddles? Every now and then, the weight of your absence descends upon us like a breathless fog and we are blind with sadness. But you don’t see this, do you? You can’t see it. But maybe you’re not looking hard enough.
TAURUS APR 20- MAY 20
I saw a worm riding a robin the other morning, like a roughrider or a frothing Cossack or a dandy from the light brigade. It was half vision from hell, half heroic tableau, and it shook me, Taurus, shook me to the quick. The scariest thing was the face of the worm… that’s right, you know where this is going… it was your face on the worm! Ask yourself then, are you a Cossack or a dandy?
GEMINI MAY 21- JUN 20
There is a certain look people get, almost without knowing it, when they’ve realized they may not be eating the short end of the stick. A half smile, furtive, measured, irresistible, that seems to say, “Ok, just don’t fuck it up now, you might actually win one for a change.” I’ve seen this look on your face a lot Gemini, and it’s getting perilously close to a full smile. Watch it. Keep those cards close.
CANCER JUN 21- JUL 22
Down by the riverside we waste away; moss gathers on the soles of our boots; birds play desultory bridge in our unruly coiffeurs; and with every second the water comes ever closer to washing away our dirty sins. But what happens when the river freezes, Cancer? Will we skate across its iron-gleaming surface into a brighter future? Yes we will. For we are the hockey-playing angels.
LEO JUL 23- AUG 22
Get a permanent! Buy a new crinoline! Wax the dog! Damn it, Leo, get out there and treat yourself to something special! I know you feel like you don’t really deserve it, but that’s just bullspit. You’ve put in a good 5 months, 14 days, 3 hours and 21 minutes. The weird thing is how freakishly intense you are about keeping everything so exactly timed. That’ll just give you a rash.
VIRGO AUG 23- SEP 22
Talking to yourself is most certainly not a sign of craziness. It’s actually indicative of a refined mind. When you think about it, everyone’s pretty much a nutjob, the only difference is that the ones we label “wacko” are the ones who aren’t able to conceal the faulty wiring. So, Virgo, you’re not “crazy”, ok? You are, however, crazy. But at least you’re not alone.
LIBRA SEP 23- OCT 22
Sometimes you sink, sometimes you swim; sometimes you get the bull, sometimes the bull gets you; but the toast always lands butter side down. Though they can become tiresome, clichés exist to serve us, like garden tools, or hang gliding instructors. So Libra, if someone tells you “your eyes are like deep blue lakes,” try not to laugh, it could really break someone’s heart [sob].
SCORPIO OCT 23- NOV 21
The silent treatment is not a medically accepted way of treating a perceived insult. It’s the equivalent of the old Lappish fishwives’ healing wisdom that thinks cat penises are a good way of alleviating grumpiness. What I’m saying, Scorpio, is that you’re employing too many cat penises these days, when what you really need are dolphin dreams. (Used to cure insomnia. Try them.)
SAGITTARIUS NOV 22- DEC 21
There’s an old saying, from some famous womanizer or another (Marlon Brando? Caligula? Gertrude Stein?) that every woman has something beautiful about her; and though I’m not normally the sentimental type, this little axiom gets my eyes all misty. Oh Sagittarius, I think you’re beautiful, inside and out, and if that makes me a gushy flatterer, you’re just gonna have to sue me!
CAPIRCORN DEC 22- JAN 19
A spiritual/aesthetic world journey is what’s called for. First of all Cappy, we have to accept the sad fact that you won’t be taking any spectacular global tours in the near future. But the powers of food-pretend are great: baguette (France) with gouda (Holland) and olives (Spain) — see, you’ve already been all over Europe! The human superpower is self-delusion. I suggest you employ it.
AQUARIUS JAN 20- FEB 18
The jackknife is your totem, Aquarius; it’s in your very blood, coursing sharp and thirsty through the pulse of your daily life, ready for all tragedy, all joy. So what does that mean for you? Well, try to avoid careers in which the atmospheric pressure changes a lot: elevator pilot, refrigeration mercenary, dog mimic... You really gotta take it easy — after all, there’s a knife in there somewhere!
PISCES FEB 19- MAR 20
Sometimes perfect strangers can be more insightful about who we really are than our closest intimates. Just the other day I was out walking the dog when someone driving by yelled, “Hey! Great looking dog!” and I thought to myself, ‘yeah, I am a great looking dog.’ So when I tell you, Pisces, that you’ve got really lovely hands, I think you should just take that at face value.
Comments (0)