Wednesday, June 18, 2008
Horoscope
Posted by Läps Trinity 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?
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?
