Really? Was I that bad? I didn't even realize it at the time... I honestly thought everybody loved me. But I guess what you're telling me, Taurus, here in the cold light of day, the cigarette smoke curling up over my top lip and deep into my brain, the alcohol fading slowly into the back eddies of my bloodstream, is that I was an asshole last night. Yeah, well so were you.
Why do they kill horses for things as minimal as a broken fetlock? How can such a perfectly evolved creature, so well fit to do one thing — run — be so disposable? Sometimes, Gemini, even taking the briefest moment to think about the world can cripple you with sadness. That's why it's important to work. I'm not talking any fancy St. Benedict "work as virtue" shit, I mean get a job. Loser.
My true love gave me golden boots to cross the vaulted sky. My true love gave me a silver cape that I might hide from darkest rain. My true love gave me a ruby crown that I might pass the Bridge of Sighs. My true love gave me a magic beer to dull the aching pain. My true love also gave me a pretty serious headache, so that didn't really work out. Don't be fooled by fancy gifts, Cancer.
Are you just making shit up as you go along, Leo? Faking your way through every moment of every day to the extent that you're losing track of what's real and what's fake? Well, here's an important message for you: the line between "fake" and "real" is an antiquated construct devised to maintain a mass immiserated class of workers with no real freedom or franchise. So you're good, dude.
Once, my Uncle Susan ran out into a giant electrical storm with the intent of getting himself struck by lightning. He had this theory that God resides in electricity and that the only way to approach transcendence on the terrestrial plane is to fill your body with pure energy. He is now dead. I can't stress enough, Virgo, the importance of considering the consequences of your actions.
Dude, it's not lame to go to bed at 10pm. As the Buddha said, you gotta eat when you're hungry and sleep when you're tired. The key here, though, is that you shouldn't eat when you're not hungry (not to mention that excessive napping and/or sleeping is a sure sign of depression). Listen to your body, Libra, it knows a lot about itself (but ignore your brain, it is devious and needy).
Breakfast in bed is more trouble than it's worth: crumbs end up in your pillow case and live there for weeks; egg yolks travel up the headboard in viscous amarillo streaks; thrice-roasted Columbian blend seeps deep into the mattress, caffeinating your dreams... My point, Scorpio, is that sometimes luxury is actually a burden. As Spiro Agnew said: "If you ain't got nothing, you're a poor."
I've always wondered what kind of guy our Sun is. I mean, he's just one in a billion, like the rest of us, hanging out, trying to get his work done each day (and solar days are loooong). Does he even realize he's sustaining all this life? And if he did, would he care? Is he popular, or is he thought of by the other stars as a little déclassé? And is it weird, Sagittarius, that I'm worried about his mood?
The hot times are upon us, Capricorn. This is good because: people wear less clothing, which is totally sexytimes all around; bars and restaurants open their windows and put their tables outside, so you can watch the sexy people; you can let your exotic pets outside. This is bad because: you will be covered in sweat; your friends will be covered in sweat; your exotic pets will be covered in sweat.
How fine your garden grows, Aquarius! How broad are your leaves! How bright are your strawberries! How sweet are your peaches! Is this starting to sound like sexy talk? I guess the sap is rising all over the place, don't you know. Well, you should give in. Just do it. Get carnal. Don't think. Have fun. Let it go. Cut loose. You'll only ever be this age once, so you might as well dive in.
Sure, we live in boxes. I get the conceit: "Modern life is compartmentalized and our lives are reduced to infinitely regressive units of time and oh how it's all so dehumanizing and wouldn't it be great if we all lived like Arcadian shepherds tootling in the hills of Samothrace." Fuck that, Pisces — I like my box. It has my chair in it, and my books. Can't we just be happy with that?