Wednesday, April 26, 2006

Let L?ps Tell You What to Do

Posted By on Wed, Apr 26, 2006 at 12:00 AM

The “Rose of Aberdeen” was my nickname in high school. I know that’s a little weird, but high school in Lapland is a bizarre place. Instead of the usual cliques, students gather according to the color of their sled dogs’ eyes. Aries, do you think they called me the “Rose of Aberdeen” because I was a pretty Scottish maiden? No, it was because of my auburn locks. Funny world ain’t it?

Some people take a certain pride in the willful mispronunciation of words, as if there’s a kind of democratic nobility to a lack of learning. This, of course, Taurus, we understand to be complete balderdash. But we are we to do about this alarming trend? Easy. Whenever someone says “foy grass” instead of foie gras, just start mispronouncing everything you say. It’ll be awesome.

The old horoscope beat ain’t all daffodils and pie, Gemini. I’ll tell you that much. It takes hard work to make stuff up for you people. And by “make stuff up” I mean delve boldly into the bright traces of the firmanent risking severe damage to my scalp and elbows to come up with your future. So don’t take it lightly when I tell you trouble at work will spill over into your home life. Wow!

Big things happen in our lives and we don’t even notice them. The light changes so slightly, so quickly as the wind catches the curtain and you look up just in time to see the sun going down… Cancer, it has been a good life so far, hasn’t it? Sadly, your perspective has been too narrow to see that of late — you need to climb to the very top of the tree, and just, look around.

Standing by the side of road, you’re waiting for a lift to nowhere, Leo, waiting for a ride to that great ponderosa in the sky, where the skirt steak is always tender and the rib sauce packs a punch all the way to Tuscaloosa. I know the cowboy life ain’t for everybody, but you have a certain steel in your soul that leads me to believe you’re ready for the big sky horizons of a rambler. Get going!

Lifetime diner waitresses are special people. Sure, their skin might be sallow from years of grease spatter and burnt coffee vapor, their legs might be bowed from those thousands of Hungry-Man platters delivered with a cracked smile to Bob and Steve and Sal, their voices might be graveled and hoarse from the daily chorus of “toast, no butter.” Jeez, Virgo, time for a new job.

All the best, Libra, on this, the occasion of your greatest triumph. You don’t know what I’m talking about? Well, you will soon. It’s been a while since all cylinders have fired at the same time for you, in the same direction. Be careful though, because sometimes the intensity of the blast can be enough to tear apart the whole damn thing, and just like that, victory becomes tragedy.

It doesn’t hurt to be kind, does it Scorpio? Well, it depends on who you have to be kind to. Some people are so obnoxious, so idiotic, that each small act of politeness toward them is like a plastic fork in the eye. But then again, painlessness isn’t necessarily a virtue. In this troubling life of ours, the things with the most value generally have some suffering attached. Sorry.

Living in New York, it’s surprisingly easy to forget that we’re right next door to the ocean. Sure, there are moments when the wind picks up and you can taste a little salt on the air, but we are a city looking inward, and down at our own nervous feet. Sagittarius, for all of our sakes, I beseech you to make for the seaside and plunge yourself into the great briny surf.

Kids these days are pretty freaking sophisticated creatures, with their iPods and their BlackBerrys and their drug addictions. What happened to frolicking among the heather, making monkeyshines, eating moonpies, throwing stones at mailboxes? I don’t know, Capricorn, but I’m glad I ain’t a kid anymore. So why are you moping about getting older? The best has just begun.

The Antipodes. A new start. Oh Aquarius, to sail the ocean blue round Cape Horn and make for the bonny blue skies of Van Diemen’s Land… This could be you! Some, when faced with a major decision, will always opt for the safer route — this is bad. Seconds slip by and we waste most of them vacillating over meaningless details. Be bold, head south, start again.

We each have our own private set of totems, that to others might seem silly and superficial, but to us are potent symbols leading us back to signal moments in our lives. For me, the battered old lute of my Uncle Mats, though forever broken, will always play a festive Helgoland jig… And you, Pisces? What objects hold that special power for you? And don’t say lute.


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