Wednesday, March 18, 2009

Horoscope

Posted By on Wed, Mar 18, 2009 at 12:00 AM

ARIES MAR 21 — APR 19
I knew you long before we became friends. I saw you in the street, picking up old newspapers, talking to dogs, folding takeout menus into paper airplanes, dressed all the while in pink coveralls and an old, battered pith helmet. You looked totally crazy, Aries. You still look totally crazy, but now I trust you to do the right thing. You will do the right thing this time around, won’t you?

TAURUS APR 20 — MAY 20
Must you turn every daily interaction into an opportunity for political grandstanding? Sometimes, Taurus, an innocent question about appetizers is just an innocent question about appetizers, and does not require a ten-minute disquisition on the history of the Asturian labor movement at the beginning of the Spanish Civil War. For reals, dude, stop taking yourself so seriously.

GEMINI MAY 21 — JUNE 20
There are cities across America filled with alleys and back byways, unnamed thoroughfares that go nowhere and everywhere all at once. In the winter we are pulled along on sleds by angry snowcats; in the spring we float down the floodwaters of nostalgia on pizza boxes and guitar cases… One day, Gemini, we will get lost forever, and it will be a happy day.

CANCER JUNE 21 — JULY 22
There I am, in the back of the van, thumbing through old issues of Sports Illustrated, sipping on a gin and juice, back doors thrown wide open to catch the sunset, and some old dude just comes up to me and straight up starts talking about the time he went to Biarritz and ate mussels with Princess Grace, and I’m like, “I don’t care.” I don’t really care, Cancer, just do what you have to do.

LEO JULY 23 — AUG 22
Let’s say you’re an unusually scattered intellectual who’s exiled himself to Paris in the late 1930s to write about art, architecture and the implacable forward movement of history. You find yourself one day sitting out on the boulevard St. Germain, sipping a café au lait, writing a letter to Stefan Zweig as a group of fascists marches by… What do you do, Leo? Do you act?

VIRGO AUG 23 — SEP 22
You’ve been on the East Coast for too long, Virgo. You need to loosen the fuck up, go shoeless for a few consecutive days, climb a tree, eat a peach. I know, I know, spring is coming, yadda-yadda, but we all know what that means in New York: dog shit and garbage cooking in the weak March sun. You need to take a road trip south. Seriously, start planning.

LIBRA SEP 23 — OCT 22
Storage space is a sad but useful metaphor for modern existence. Just think of the myriad ways in which we try to fill the spiritual void: exercise bikes, fondue pots, VHS tapes of Sanford and Son. But really, Libra, there’s not enough storage room in the world to contain all the objects you need to distract you from the emptiness. Renounce your desires, have a Sanka. 

SCORPIO OCT 23 — NOV 21
Those were the days, Scorpio. Tree forts, lemonade stands, lollipops and yoyos, puppet shows, The Goonies… What do you miss most about college? And how do we return to those carefree sensibilities? Face it, we can’t just squeeze our eyes tight and wish for the best, clicking our heels as the streetlights wink on one at a time. You see, we can’t ever return to those sensibilities. That’s it.

SAGITTARIUS NOV 22 — DEC 21
Everyone thinks they’re wise and tolerant. Everyone thinks they have a pretty good sense of humor. Everyone thinks they’re a good driver. Everyone thinks they have good taste in footwear. But you know very well, Sagittarius, that most people don’t have those things. The trick is, you probably don’t either, statistically speaking. It’s time you came to grips with your inadequacies.

CAPRICORN DEC 22 — JAN 19
Buttoned up to the top, or undone to near salacious levels? What’s your mood today, Capricorn, and how are you going to express that through your outfit? You’ve had a hard time communicating your feelings through words and facial expressions of late, so you should move to the sartorial realm. Let your cardigans do the pouting, your shoes do the bitch-slapping. Dress to express.

AQUARIUS JAN 20 — FEB 18
Hey, we should go hang-gliding, you and me. I know it seems pretty dangerous, but think of the adrenaline rush alongside the indescribable experience of flight — don’t you think you need a jolt to the system, Aquarius, something big and amazing to wrench you out of yourself and your routines? I don’t know, maybe just a long bike ride and a spicy curry will do the trick. Maybe.

PISCES FEB 19 — MAR 20
There can be no greater feeling of relief than experiencing your friend’s art for the first time and actually, honestly enjoying it. I once knew a woman who refused to read her boyfriend’s writing; it was really weird, she loved him, and he had talent, but she didn’t want to enter into any kind of critical dynamic with him. I respected it at the time, but it didn’t work out. Lesson learned, Pisces?

Wednesday, March 4, 2009

Horoscope

Posted By on Wed, Mar 4, 2009 at 12:00 AM

ARIES MAR 21 — APR 19
Can’t you see that flowers aren’t going to cut it this time, Aries? Granted, forgiveness is a great ocean in a flow of perpetual renewal, but you can never really tell what’s going to sink to the bottom and what’s going to glide delightfully across the surface. Well, in this case I can tell that flowers are definitely going to end up in Davey Jones’ Locker. Upgrade to jewelry.

TAURUS APR 20 — MAY 20
Your eyes are wide open, your mouth is shut. Your hair is combed back, your shoes are tied up. Your feet are on the ground, your hands gripped tight. You, Taurus, are ready to rock and roll… But just as you’re set to take the stage you hesitate, your breath held back in an anxious gulp. What happened? Why can’t you follow things to their logical conclusions? Be brave, dude.

GEMINI MAY 21 — JUNE 20
I knew a girl in high school who was convinced she was a changeling. You know, someone with the power to take any form they can imagine, from professional polo player to goose. This girl (let’s call her Stephanie R. Webb) would show up at a party and start mewling, as if she thought she was a trapped bobcat. We tried, Gemini, to tell her she wasn’t, but she wouldn’t listen.

CANCER JUNE 21 — JULY 22
I want a boater, a stripey jacket, a pair of wide-legged houndstooth trousers, a monocle and a sterling silver cigarette case. You see, Cancer, I am about to reinvent myself. Honestly, it’s not as hard as it sounds. Just find some pictures from magazines you like, take them to the clothing place, and ask the nice people to outfit you. Also, try to be cooler and talk with a funny accent.

LEO JULY 23 — AUG 22
You think it’s bad that Mitt Romney tied the family dog to his car roof, well, get a load of this: apparently the ancient Sumerian Sparvak culture would tie the second-born child to the roof of the car whenever they went to war (which they waged in abandoned Wal-Mart parking lots), using the poor little creatures for ballast and luck. My point is, Leo, there’s always something worse.

VIRGO AUG 23 — SEP 22
One man’s vulgarity is another’s man’s bicycle. The world is a small place wrapped in gabardine. We can’t know a thing if we haven’t seen it in the light of day. Have you noticed your weird pronouncements have been getting a little gnomic of late, Virgo? Is there something you’ve been wanting to tell me? Are you trying to speak but it’s just not coming out right? Use a pad.

LIBRA SEP 23 — OCT 22
I had a complex, fully developed version of the afterlife when I was eight. (N.B. I no longer believe that consciousness carries on after the biological organism dies, so there.) Basically, Heaven was like an infinite sports stadium in which you could watch whatever you wanted, and angels would come around with your favorite food. Will you sing at my halftime show, Libra?

SCORPIO OCT 23 — NOV 21
Floating down river on a rickety raft made of candy and foil and magicians’ underpants is not the best way to meet new and interesting people. Sure, you might run into the odd bobbydazzler who jumps aboard at the old mill crossing or what have you, but these friends are not going to last. Ain’t it time you made a commitment, Scorpio, and settled down in one spot?

SAGITTARIUS NOV 22 — DEC 21
Kentucky or Tennessee? I’m thinking of relocating further south, Sagittarius. There’s just something about the northeast that’s getting to me: maybe it’s the winters, maybe it’s the WASPs… I don’t know. Have you thought about jumping ship, hauling off to somewhere new and exciting? It may seem obvious, but a big change (especially now) is exactly what you need.

CAPRICORN DEC 22 — JAN 19
So you’re standing on a beach staring out in the direction that you think must point straight across to Africa (but in reality you’re actually just looking at the butt end of Cuba), and the sun is setting behind you, and there’s a beer in your left hand. This is it, the end of the world, your last day on earth. Tell me, Capricorn, what is going through your mind? Run with it.

AQUARIUS JAN 20 — FEB 18
That was nice, eh Aquarius? Do you feel at least a little relaxed now? I think you need to put things in context and realize that you function at a basic level of chaotic stress higher than most of the world. So when I ask if you feel calm, I know you’re never going to be one of those people who talks about how “chill” something is, but I just want to know you’re not going to explode.

PISCES FEB 19 — MAR 20
The ancient Romans believed that Sicily was a gateway to Hell, a gray rocky anteroom where lost human souls wandered in search of salvation, only to yield in the end to the maleficent tug of fire and evil. And that is how pizza came to be. The end. Do you know what a non sequitur is, Pisces? Well, that’s how a lot of your behavior comes across right now.

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