Wednesday, August 20, 2008
Horoscope
Posted by Läps Trinity on Wed, Aug 20, 2008 at 12:00 AM
ARIES MAR 21 — APR 19
The area where the hospital disgorges itself into the street is a stretch of pavement rich with resignation and defiance, littered with cigarette butts, newspaper and the racked, battered survivors of modern medicine. It’s not a fun place. But, Aries, if you ever want to see a person truly enjoy a cigarette — which is to say, truly enjoy a moment of freedom — this is the place.
TAURUS APR 20 — MAY 20
Jeez Louieez. It happened the other week... that first cool night of summer, when a faint trace of cold Canadian air comes rilling down across the Midwest, all the way to your own particular Brooklyn street corner — and you can feel it across your upturned cheek: Fall. This year, Taurus, I want you to be ready for all the autumn boohoos, because eventually you’ll drown in that river of tears.
GEMINI MAY 21 — JUNE 20
Finally, it’s possible: get smarter while you sleep! While I normally counsel against the quick fix, I gotta say that we’re all kind of running out of time, so, you know, whatever gets you through the night. I’m not going to get into the details of the procedure, but I will say, Gemini, that if you don’t think you need to get smarter, you are flat-out wrong. All of us need to grow our brains more.
CANCER JUNE 21 — JULY 22
Late last night I was approached online by a death cult looking for members. They call themselves the Thanatonauts and an unwanted chat window just blooped up on my screen with the words, “Hi! Are you afraid of death?” Obviously, I replied, “Fuck yeah!” And then, amazingly, the power went out. I never heard from them again, Cancer. The moral here is to make sure you follow shit up.
LEO JULY 23 — AUG 22
So close, Leo, I am so close. I am so close to that age when I can simply revert to a single, uniform outfit of clothes, of which I will purchase multiple copies to wear each and every day of the week. Choice is oppression — we fetishize it and obsess over it and it is ruining our lives. That’s why I’m trying to eliminate it from my life. Except, now I have to choose my one and only outfit. Wetsuit? Unitard?
VIRGO AUG 23 — SEP 22
Baby, were you born to run? Because, frankly, I wasn’t. I was born to hitch a ride, bum a lift, tag along, roll by whenever and pogo. Does that mean we can never be friends? You see, as you get older you have the opportunity to pick your friends more through objective criteria than uncontrollable circumstance. So really, Virgo, why should you roll with someone who just doesn’t get you?
LIBRA SEP 23 — OCT 22
You’ve turned the corner and it’s a dead-end street. The sun is going down and you left your Taser at home, on top of the microwave (next to the TV Guide). There’s a rustling in the shadows and then... who should appear, but your future self, looking shiny and happy! You see, Libra, if you’d had your Taser, you would have juiced your future self and none of this would’ve come to pass.
SCORPIO OCT 23 — NOV 21
You ever think that maybe life is too long? Seriously, I’m starting to think that, like, 52 is probably pretty close to what any reasonable term limit should be. After that, things just seem to fall apart, and it’s one slow, dokey sled race to the bottom. This is why, Scorpio, you need to speed up all those plans you’ve made and make sure you get them done by 40, so you can retire. Crikey!
SAGITTARIUS NOV 22 — DEC 21
We all know how Icelandic people pee on shark meat and bury it in the ground and eat it a year later, right? It’s true. (Crazy, I know.) For some reason, Sagittarius, this image comes to mind every time I read your star chart, and I can’t for the life of me interpret it. So, in a highly unorthodox move, I’m going leave it to you to puzzle out the significance. (Let me know, please, if you get it.)
CAPRICORN DEC 22 — JAN 19
Did you ever race paper boats in the gutter? After it rained? I did. Then one time I shrunk myself to the size of a saltshaker using the power of my Dad’s autoshop microwave and a barrel of de-ionized candyfloss. Oh Capricorn, the things I saw… amazing, also feculent. But the one thing I took from the experience, besides a fear of pen lids, was the importance of changing your perspective. Get it?
AQUARIUS JAN 20 — FEB 18
Someday, Aquarius, when I am rich and handsome, I will buy you a horse farm. This may seem like an odd introduction to an astrological reading, but bear with me. You see, you were born for movement, to be out in the world, wind, air, sun; you were born to ride. Sure, I know I can’t promise this to all the Aquarii, but what the hell, it might happen for one of you…
PISCES FEB 19 — MAR 20
A skirl of birdsong. The smell of toast. Piano in a far distant room. Gulls blown in from the outer harbor. A small child looking back over its shoulder through the screen. Blossoms fallen to the cracked sidewalk at your feet. A stack of Vintage paperbacks with a “free” sign affixed. Take some time with your walk to the subway, Pisces, because there’s a lot of good shit out there.
The area where the hospital disgorges itself into the street is a stretch of pavement rich with resignation and defiance, littered with cigarette butts, newspaper and the racked, battered survivors of modern medicine. It’s not a fun place. But, Aries, if you ever want to see a person truly enjoy a cigarette — which is to say, truly enjoy a moment of freedom — this is the place.
TAURUS APR 20 — MAY 20
Jeez Louieez. It happened the other week... that first cool night of summer, when a faint trace of cold Canadian air comes rilling down across the Midwest, all the way to your own particular Brooklyn street corner — and you can feel it across your upturned cheek: Fall. This year, Taurus, I want you to be ready for all the autumn boohoos, because eventually you’ll drown in that river of tears.
GEMINI MAY 21 — JUNE 20
Finally, it’s possible: get smarter while you sleep! While I normally counsel against the quick fix, I gotta say that we’re all kind of running out of time, so, you know, whatever gets you through the night. I’m not going to get into the details of the procedure, but I will say, Gemini, that if you don’t think you need to get smarter, you are flat-out wrong. All of us need to grow our brains more.
CANCER JUNE 21 — JULY 22
Late last night I was approached online by a death cult looking for members. They call themselves the Thanatonauts and an unwanted chat window just blooped up on my screen with the words, “Hi! Are you afraid of death?” Obviously, I replied, “Fuck yeah!” And then, amazingly, the power went out. I never heard from them again, Cancer. The moral here is to make sure you follow shit up.
LEO JULY 23 — AUG 22
So close, Leo, I am so close. I am so close to that age when I can simply revert to a single, uniform outfit of clothes, of which I will purchase multiple copies to wear each and every day of the week. Choice is oppression — we fetishize it and obsess over it and it is ruining our lives. That’s why I’m trying to eliminate it from my life. Except, now I have to choose my one and only outfit. Wetsuit? Unitard?
VIRGO AUG 23 — SEP 22
Baby, were you born to run? Because, frankly, I wasn’t. I was born to hitch a ride, bum a lift, tag along, roll by whenever and pogo. Does that mean we can never be friends? You see, as you get older you have the opportunity to pick your friends more through objective criteria than uncontrollable circumstance. So really, Virgo, why should you roll with someone who just doesn’t get you?
LIBRA SEP 23 — OCT 22
You’ve turned the corner and it’s a dead-end street. The sun is going down and you left your Taser at home, on top of the microwave (next to the TV Guide). There’s a rustling in the shadows and then... who should appear, but your future self, looking shiny and happy! You see, Libra, if you’d had your Taser, you would have juiced your future self and none of this would’ve come to pass.
SCORPIO OCT 23 — NOV 21
You ever think that maybe life is too long? Seriously, I’m starting to think that, like, 52 is probably pretty close to what any reasonable term limit should be. After that, things just seem to fall apart, and it’s one slow, dokey sled race to the bottom. This is why, Scorpio, you need to speed up all those plans you’ve made and make sure you get them done by 40, so you can retire. Crikey!
SAGITTARIUS NOV 22 — DEC 21
We all know how Icelandic people pee on shark meat and bury it in the ground and eat it a year later, right? It’s true. (Crazy, I know.) For some reason, Sagittarius, this image comes to mind every time I read your star chart, and I can’t for the life of me interpret it. So, in a highly unorthodox move, I’m going leave it to you to puzzle out the significance. (Let me know, please, if you get it.)
CAPRICORN DEC 22 — JAN 19
Did you ever race paper boats in the gutter? After it rained? I did. Then one time I shrunk myself to the size of a saltshaker using the power of my Dad’s autoshop microwave and a barrel of de-ionized candyfloss. Oh Capricorn, the things I saw… amazing, also feculent. But the one thing I took from the experience, besides a fear of pen lids, was the importance of changing your perspective. Get it?
AQUARIUS JAN 20 — FEB 18
Someday, Aquarius, when I am rich and handsome, I will buy you a horse farm. This may seem like an odd introduction to an astrological reading, but bear with me. You see, you were born for movement, to be out in the world, wind, air, sun; you were born to ride. Sure, I know I can’t promise this to all the Aquarii, but what the hell, it might happen for one of you…
PISCES FEB 19 — MAR 20
A skirl of birdsong. The smell of toast. Piano in a far distant room. Gulls blown in from the outer harbor. A small child looking back over its shoulder through the screen. Blossoms fallen to the cracked sidewalk at your feet. A stack of Vintage paperbacks with a “free” sign affixed. Take some time with your walk to the subway, Pisces, because there’s a lot of good shit out there.
