Wednesday, June 18, 2008

Horoscope

Posted By on Wed, Jun 18, 2008 at 12:00 AM

ARIES MAR 21 — APR 19

It’s easy to get lost in the woods, Aries. It can even be fun. But if you’re serious about letting go, about truly testing yourself, you gotta leave the map at home. It’ll be scary, I know, but the first time you make your way back to the clearing, back to the warm glow of the campfire, the sense of satisfaction will be more than you dreamed it ever could be. Also, I’m gonna need that map.

TAURUS APR 20 — MAY 20

You know that old saying, “Be careful what you wish for”? Well, I think it’s dumb. You should wish your goddamn heart out:  you could wish for an airplane or two mouths or the power to turn books into ice cream — they’re just wishes, Taurus, so why not? Seriously, why do you have to be careful? And between you and me, I think one of your wishes may soon come true (the one about cheese).

GEMINI MAY 21 — JUNE 20

You and I both know that we’re not always nicest to those we love most. In fact, we tend to reserve our worst behavior for our best friends. Why is that, Gemini? We have it all backwards: the world is brutal enough to deal with, from the subway to the supermarket, to add to it all with sniping and bitching. So try this: be mean to strangers for a change, and nice to the important people.

CANCER JUNE 21 — JULY 22

The mind’s eye is a terrible thing to waste. Err, I mean, mind your Ps and Qs. Wait, no, I mean, who’s minding the store? Love is a minefield? Mind over matter? Look, I’m sorry Cancer, I’m having a hard time here, there’s been a lot of kooky action in the Van Allen Belt lately which is throwing the stars all for a loop, and it’s messing with my mind. Oh, oh, I got it: what’s mind is yours!

LEO
 JULY 23 — AUG 22

What if the dead didn’t actually really die. I know that sounds crazy, but what if they just moved to a different neighborhood, like Hunt’s Point or East New York or someplace weird like that. And they’d just hang out in coffee shops reading old books, trying on each other’s scarves and gloves (they’re always cold), going about the business of forgetting the living. Sorry Leo, but it’s possible. And sad.

VIRGO AUG 23 — SEP 22

I used to think umbrellas were just a little bit fey. They’re kind of like weird inverted corsets for circular alien streetwalkers. Or something. But then I got really drunk one night and passed out in the gutter. I woke up to the meditative pitter-patter of light rain skirling across an umbrella. Some kind soul had covered me. You should do more cinematically nice things for people, Virgo.

LIBRA
 SEP 23 — OCT 22

A solid kick to the shins is actually a pretty good way to settle an argument. Ok, ok, violence is bad, yadda yadda, but you know those discussions in which two people are so clearly fighting over two completely different things, and they don’t even seem to actually hear each other? Man, I hate that. So I just go and kick everybody’s shins. Um, You weren’t one of those people were you, Libra?

SCORPIO OCT 23 — NOV 21

Have you ever thought about a career change, Scorpio? Something like a con man (or woman) or maybe a lifeguard? You may say it’s the humidity, but I think your current course is really draining you down to empty, and if you don’t stop now you might not ever be able to fill it again. Time to seriously consider an alternative fuel source. By which I mean start driving an ice cream truck.

SAGITTARIUS
 NOV 22 — DEC 21

You remember in the old 60s Batman series when the Dark Knight (ha!) and the Boy Wonder would scale buildings using special Bat rope, all hunched over together like little old ladies? Well, it turns out they weren’t actually doing that! They filmed the whole thing sideways! Take that gravity. Sometimes, Sagittarius, if the trick works, and nobody really knows it’s a trick, it’s fine.

CAPRICORN
 DEC 22 — JAN 19

Have you seen jungle gyms these days? They’re all covered with rubber and don’t have any pokey bits and there’s this big poofy padding laid out beneath them. Lame. When I was a kid, jungle gyms were built out of old gallows and cinched together with barbed wire. And let me tell you, Capricorn, we sure as hell didn’t play on ‘em at night. Or in the day. Nope, we just watched em’. Silently.

AQUARIUS JAN 20 — FEB 18

Being a Gaucho ain’t what it used to be. Time was you could saunter into Buenos Aires fresh off the pampas, bolo tie pulled up tight, and find yerself some intelligent romantic company. These days you mention Borges or Epictetus and they just stare. When does nostalgia go from pleasant aching feeling to nauseating fever? Right about now, Aquarius. Was anything ever any good?

PISCES 
FEB 19 — MAR 20

Being a tough guy and dealing with pain is one thing. It’s kind of exciting and if you really concentrate, the adrenaline can usually get you through. But the trick is chronic pain, which is really just about irritation. It is really hard to live each day with a little cocktail umbrella stuck in your shoulder. So, Pisces, instead of being a grouchy “hero,” why don’t you just deal with it and cheer up?

Wednesday, June 11, 2008

Horoscope

Posted By on Wed, Jun 11, 2008 at 12:00 AM

ARIES MAR 21 — APR 19

When life gets tough, we like to think of the universe as some particularly malicious agent that’s out to destroy us with trial after trial. This is our way of contextualizing the unfairness we perceive — something or someone must be out to get us. Well, Aries, that’s poppycock. It’s all random, and there’s no reason to suppose it’ll get better. There is no balance, just chance.

TAURUS
 APR 20 — MAY 20

I would hazard that this time you might be underthinking your situation. I’m normally of the school that encourages spontaneity and instinct (yeah, we’re all a bunch of zen hippie surfer trustfund types), but hold on, Bodhisattva — maybe you need to get a bit more rational, maybe even draw up a pro/con chart or some shit like that. I know it’s not cool, Taurus, but try to be thoughtful, k?

GEMINI MAY 21 — JUNE 20

Can science save us? Will we ever be able to time travel? Will we ever be able to breathe in space? Will there ever be a hangover-free Christmas morning? I don’t have those answers, Gemini, but I can tell you one thing: at the heart of all scientific breakthrough lies the unflagging ability to dream. Are you flagging these days? Where does that word even come from? Happy Flag Day, dude.

CANCER JUNE 21 — JULY 22

So I’m writing this from a tiny trailer parked out back of a Hardee’s about six miles outside of Oxford, Mississippi. It’s hot. My hands smell like bear glands. My coffee tastes like back issues of People. In short, Cancer, this isn’t looking good. I offer the sad reality of my life to you, that you might gain some perspective from its pathos, and stop complaining about your own.

LEO JULY 23 — AUG 22

Beach! Yeah! Let’s go to the beach! Maybe we’ll get sand in our veggie wraps! And we will forget to put sunscreen on the thin band of skin between our waistband and t-shirt! And a large man from Wales will get drunk and beat us up! And it will be the summer of 1993! We were younger then, but kind of sad! Man, Leo, sometimes it’s just best to forget, right?

VIRGO
 AUG 23 — SEP 22

Big deal, Virgo, you know why the sky is blue, and how rain works. Way to go captain smartypants. But do you know why you’re having trouble hanging on to money? Just because you can rattle off the theories of the world’s great economists doesn’t mean you’re good with a buck. Ok, it may seem both obvious and impossible, but the key is planning ahead. That’s it. That’s all.

LIBRA SEP 23 — OCT 22

You may think it’s all fun and quirky to have a “make your own ice cream” party but it’s really a bad idea. It’s messy. It takes a long time. And it doesn’t taste very good. EVERYONE WILL HATE YOU. I’m sorry, Libra, but just because you have an idea doesn’t mean you have to follow through on it. Keep an idea book, write them down, and maybe act on them once and a while.

SCORPIO
 OCT 23 — NOV 21

The heart, as an organ, is really pretty ugly. It’s gnarled, asymmetrical and it’s always clenching, like a fist or the mouth of a judgmental spinster. The liver, on the other hand, is slick and has a beautiful monochrome sheen — pretty nice looking as internal organs go. Does this gross you out, Scorpio? Then you should apply to law school and give up that doctor dream. You’re welcome.

SAGITTARIUS NOV 22 — DEC 21

Have you ever tried to make coffee using one of those giant-ass, turn-of-the-century Italian steampunk contraptions? Preposterously complicated; also, delicious. Preposterilicious! Do you see what I’m getting at here, Sagittarius? A long, difficult process that yields a sublimely edifying result? No, that’s not it. Portmanteaux. The combination of words. Sooo fun.

CAPRICORN DEC 22 — JAN 19

Where do you stand on using your childhood lunchbox as a playful signifier of perpetual youth and all the creative latitude that entails? Did you just tell me to fuck off? Good for you. I respect that. You’ve really grown up, haven’t you, Capricorn? No longer will you wander the childhood byways that shaped your adult self. Well, all I can say is keep running. Get as far away as possible.

AQUARIUS
 JAN 20 — FEB 18

Oh dear. I read somewhere that over the last few years Spanish business culture has been trying to reconfigure itself closer to the American model. Translation: no more two-hour lunches followed by a nap. That fucking sucks. Now we’ll just have more stressed out, hunch-shouldered people squeezing onto subways, getting really angry really quickly. Oh Aquarius, what can we do?

PISCES
 FEB 19 — MAR 20

The key to a happy life is being able to fit all that really matters to you in a single Honda Civic glove compartment. Everything else is kind of bullshit, and half of the stuff you think is making you happy is really just making you sad. Try it tonight, Pisces. And if you don’t have a Honda Civic, a basic toaster oven will work, too. Just don’t turn it on. Ok, get cramming!

Wednesday, June 4, 2008

Horoscope

Posted By on Wed, Jun 4, 2008 at 12:00 AM

ARIES MAR 21 — APR 19
You can be full of shit sometimes, can’t you Aries? To give you the benefit of the doubt, I’ll assume you believe most of the stuff you’re saying because otherwise that would make you a big liar. Look, I don’t mind a little mendacity now and then for the sake of simplifying any given situation, but making up stories for no reason just complicates your life further. Truth is simple.

TAURUS APR 20 — MAY 20
The season of the fans is upon us. No, I’m not talking about Mets crazies or Yankee yobs, I’m talking about the sweet reassuring thrum of seven spinning lovelies circulating air and white noise through your otherwise stifling apartment. Why are you so cheap, Taurus? Why are you frightened of air conditioning? Do you like sweating all the way through your mattress? That is not sweat equity.

GEMINI MAY 21 — JUNE 20
One last dance, eh Gemini? Why not. We’ll stop traffic and string lights up around the zocalo and the villagers will come out in the hot rainy night and none of us will be able to hear the music but there will be laughter and we’ll be happy again, all night long. But that’s the trick, isn’t it? No matter how much fun you have, your troubles will still be there in the morning.

CANCER JUNE 21 — JULY 22
I’ve been receiving strange postcards in the mail over the last three months. They’re all postmarked “Zembla,” and I can never make out the handwriting, especially the signatory. Some salient words have been “awl,” “obligatory,” “fondness” and “amygdala.” Cancer, do you have trouble reading the signs the world  sends you? Just chuck them in the fire and get on with it.

LEO JULY 23 — AUG 22
A chill goes down your spine when the ducks fly by in the darkness. A great flock of them, nearly 200 strong, comes in low, only ten feet over your head, and they suck the air behind them causing you to stumble forward. Are there any angels left in the world? Were there ever any here? If we are them, Leo, I fear for the coming morning, when the sun  rises on all this damning evidence.

VIRGO AUG 23 — SEP 22
Sitting in a field, playing a guitar, daisy between your teeth, cardigan askew. Isn’t it all a little hokey, Virgo? Even you have beautiful teeth and perfect pitch, you have to consider how you are seen by the rest of the world. Are you a charming ne’er-do-well  with a heart of gold, or a vain blowhard with a hidden agenda? Are all of us torn between these personas? How are we to know? Damn.

LIBRA SEP 23 — OCT 22
Did you know that Jacques Brel was a key contributor to artificial intelligence research? Indeed, between recording magnificent chansons and eating French fries with mayo he made key discoveries about intelligent agent paradigms, still in use today. Makes you feel useless, eh Libra? But wtf do you care? You have your own life to live, to waste if you choose. I suggest you do so.

SCORPIO OCT 23 — NOV 21'
Dreaming that you are a piece of furniture is significant, wouldn’t you say, Scorpio? I may be an astrologer but that doesn’t mean I’m qualified in the arts of oneiromancy — and so I turn to you. Last night I dreamt I was an ottoman, and everyone kept putting their feet up on me at the end of their long work days. Analyze that, won’t you? And when you do, apply it to yourself. DIY!

SAGITTARIUS NOV 22 — DEC 21
Do you have a dedicated phone ear, a particular side of your head you’re more comfortable using on the old gab box? It’s good to alternate ears as much as possible, because, according to studies by invisible Dutch doctors, your personality is slightly different from one side to the other. Think about that, Sagittarius! You might be presenting your weak self every time you say “hello.” Messed up.

CAPRICORN DEC 22 — JAN 19
I always thought I was an honest guy — until I checked out your stars last night. Man, things look really good for you this month. So good that I very seriously contemplated fudging the truth out of a concern  you might take things for granted. But fuck that, Capricorn, I ain’t gonna do you wrong. You’re just going to have to deal with the foreknowledge of good fortune. (Wait! I am honest!)

AQUARIUS JAN 20 — FEB 18
Grass-stained knees, twigs in your hair, a little soil under your fingernails — life in the great outdoors can do a lot to restore the will to live. Now Aquarius, I’m not suggesting you wander off into the wilderness with nothing but a penknife and a Snapple bottle filled with tap water, I’m just saying you need to get yourself to the park. Bring a blanket, take off your shoes, relax.

PISCES FEB 19 — MAR 20
Scissors, graph paper, a pack of gum, coat hangers, industrial-strength rubber bands and a box of expired toner — that’s all you need to make the perfect Mini-Heli Dream Carrier™. Once you’ve assembled your M.H.D.C™ you’ll never again have to worry about remembering your dreams. That’s right, Pisces, your unresolved subconscious issues (and you have a lot) will be a thing of the past!

Horoscope

Posted By on Wed, Jun 4, 2008 at 12:00 AM

ARIES MAR 21 — APR 19
Are you a little more tired than normal these days, Aries? Do you find yourself sitting at your desk typing away and the next moment you look up and you‘ve typed the letter aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa a whole bunch of times and there’s drool on your keyboard? You clearly need to start using some kind of drug. Diet and exercise will not help you. It’s all about the drugs.

TAURUS APR 20 — MAY 20
Time for a wake up call, dude. You’ve been sleeping through your alarm for a few months now, hitting that snooze button, being late for work and otherwise fucking up what semblance of a life you’ve so far been able to build for yourself. Well, you know how you’re going to turn it all around? It’s pretty simple. You’re just going to start getting up really early. That’s it. That’s all.

GEMINI MAY 21 — JUNE 20
Causality, as David Hume taught us, is a tricky beastie. One of our main design flaws as humans is the perpetual drive to imbue unrelated incidents with a connective identity, e.g. I leave the window open>the rain comes in; I leave the freezer open>the ice cream melts; I leave my diary open on your bed>you get all crazy about what I wrote about you. It’s not all about you, Gemini.

CANCER JUNE 21 — JULY 22
Is that a kimono you’re wearing, because seriously, if it is I think you should at least take off your socks. If you’re going to go with a new look, Cancer, you have to commit — half-measures are just  weak. I understand the inexorable lure of reinvention, but don’t kid yourself, it always comes with a cost. For example, that whalebone girdle you have your eye on? Three hundred bucks.

LEO JULY 23 — AUG 22
I found a box of mixtapes in the wheel well of my cousin’s old Ford Upsilon. The first one I pulled out was called “Leo’s Lament” and, apparently, it had been made for you, for this very moment. Side one: first track, ‘Shelter From the Storm’, Bob Dylan; last track, ‘The Safety Dance’, Men Without Hats. Side two, first track ‘Say No Go’, De La Soul; last track, ‘Mayfly’, Belle & Sebastian. Crazy right?

VIRGO AUG 23 — SEP 22
Look, I know there are times when what I say makes very little sense. However, Virgo, let us consider the historical value of this cultural construct we call “common sense.” If she floats, she’s a witch. If he’s mute, he’s stupid. If she’s got green eyes, she’s wicked. The market will right itself. Do you see what I’m getting at here? Sometimes you have to yield to unsense. Jibber jabber hey!

LIBRA SEP 23 — OCT 22
Baby it’s cold outside. Ok, I know it’s actually summer and it’s pretty frigging hot. But I’m using the power of metaphor here, so bear with me. I think you’re spiritually underdressed and the snow is falling on your bare shoulders and you’re going to catch a terrible chill if you don’t cover yourself in something far more substantial. I’m not talking about God, Libra, I’m talking merino.

SCORPIO OCT 23 — NOV 21
I got a gift in the mail today, a little Japanese manga figurine that actually walks around on a flat surface and shouts “hello!” Well, that’s what it allegedly does, except the gift giver failed to provide batteries. Have we lost all ability to think through the consequences of our decisions, to anticipate a world beyond our own convenience? I think maybe we have, Scorpio.

SAGITTARIUS NOV 22 — DEC 21
Gimme that hard rock glory! Gimme that good time party fun! Gimme that summertime “beer in the tall grass” euphoria! Join me, Sagittarius, in cutting loose. Stay up all night. Eat two breakfasts. Buy a blow-up doll. Whatever it is you want, just give in and go for it. A window of hedonistic indulgence is opening for you, and I suggest you jump through it. Just watch where you land.

CAPRICORN DEC 22 — JAN 19
There’s nothing wrong with second place. In certain situations, people are given silver medals for getting that close to the top. And, depressingly, if you think about it most of us never even get close to the podium — unless we rewrite the rules, i.e. “I’m the best Lapp astrologer working in New York, ever.” You see what I did there, Capricorn? Make up your own game and then win it.

AQUARIUS JAN 20 — FEB 18
Have you ever taken a big bite of suspiciously soft white chocolate only to discover that it’s some kind of erotic body wax that tastes so bad you have to run to the bathroom to wash out the flavor except the janitor is there so you have to push your way past him and the tap water tastes like old pennies so it’s not much better? Yeah, that happened to me, Aquarius. Don’t let it happen to you.

PISCES FEB 19 — MAR 20
Train travel may be slow and unpredictable (cows!) but it sure is fun. One of the funnest things is walking along the aisle and “accidentally” cuffing people in the back of the head when you “lose your balance.” I learned that you can get into a lot of fights this way! Sometimes they even turn violent! I think it’s good, Pisces, every now and then, to experience danger and pain.

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