Sunday, May 24, 2009

Horoscope

Posted By on Sun, May 24, 2009 at 4:02 PM

ARIES  MAR 21 — APR 19
Now and then it's pretty important to scratch that itch. You're a human being, right, Aries? You feel, you bleed, you get sad, you forget... so I don't think it's wise for you to be repressing all that, all the time. I'm not suggesting you pull the bandages off all at once — that would be just plain masochistic. One little thing at a time, let the world come to you, and embrace it when it does.

TAURUS  APR 20 — MAY 20
The high plains are no place for a ball gown. The supermarket is no place for a Gatling gun. Aruba is no place for a snowboard. This life is no place for timidity. Listen to me, Taurus, there is no inherent value in your prideful ability to sit tight and weather the storm. You see, it's all storms. Avoiding storms is avoiding life. So yeah, obviously, you need to go out and get wet.

GEMINI MAY 21 — JUNE 20
Oh it's dark alright. But just because it's dark doesn't mean dawn will come, Gemini. But if you can't sleep, you might as well do something, right? Why don't you put some lentils on to cook? They smell great and they're really handy to have around for curries or stews or soups or even bean salads! And they're also probably the best protein bang for the buck... Not so dark after all, is it!

CANCER  JUNE 21 — JULY 22
It's fort-building time, dude. Pull the cushions off the couch, drag out the comforters, put your underpants on your head and hold siege to the kitchen. For too long the fridge has taunted you, the cupboards have mocked your overtures to peace... if it's war they want, it's war they'll get. Sure, they might have the food, but you have the TV. You can win this fight, Cancer. I believe in you.

LEO  JULY 23 — AUG 22
It sucks to be out of a job. The unemployed life might appear enticing to those of us locked into the 60-hour work-week scurry, but it's not all mid-morning lattes and reading The Economist in the bathtub. Not having money is stressful. There really isn't any way to explain it to the people who've always had a safety net. Get back up and get out there, Leo. You were made to work.

VIRGO  AUG 23 — SEP 22
You know that thing they say about cats, Virgo? Well, basically, a cat has a better chance of surviving a fall from five storeys than it does one from two storeys. You see, given the right amount of fall-time, the average alley feline can right himself to prepare for impact; without it... splat. My point here is that we can get through anything if we just get ready for it... Start planning now.

LIBRA  SEP 23 — OCT 22
It just takes a little particulate to poison the whole system. You can't even see it, but it's there: a small bitter drop that divides and divides and divides until we are all squinting with malice in our sleep, saying the wrong thing as a matter of principle. How do we purify things, Libra? What is the first step toward kindness for kindness' sake? Probably chocolate, or beer.

SCORPIO  OCT 23 — NOV 21
We're always kind of standing on the border between the past and the future, Scorpio, checking our paperwork, exchanging currency, wondering where we're going to stay that night. We are travelers, you know, with all the uncertainty and possibility that entails... But here's a phrase you should learn, that you won't find in any guide book: "There is hope, but not for us." Learn that one..

SAGITTARIUS  NOV 22 — DEC 21
The turducken has become a part of the American holiday tradition, even if it's mainly a punch line or a signifier of excess. But what are we to do in the summer months? I propose a multi-level frozen treat extrapolated from the Baked Alaska: gelato within sorbet within ice cream within whipped cream, each layer flash fried in a paper-thin layer of pastry. Dream big, Sagittarius.

CAPRICORN  DEC 22 — JAN 19
An empty bar in the middle of the day has a gloriously distinctive smell — trying to describe it is like rhyming with orange, but I will try: there's a bit of stable, traces of perfume and popcorn, wet paperbacks, ash, cheap soap. It is one of my favorite smells and it only lasts while the sun is high. And you know, the sun sets on us all, so breathe deep, Capricorn.

AQUARIUS  JAN 20 — FEB 18
I picture you sitting in a deep windowsill, surrounded by pillows and books, maybe a dog is there with you; it is winter, but the light is warm and anyway, you're wrapped in a heavy sweater (maybe it's mine) and a blanket, and there is a steaming mug of tea on a stool beside you. I don't think you've noticed me yet, and that's how I like it. You seem happy, Aquarius, and it is nice to see.

PISCES  FEB 19 — MAR 20
I dare you to climb up on the roof and yell to the sky exactly what you really think, Pisces. No one else has to hear it, that's fine, but you just have to do it. Take your time with this, think about it: how do you feel, exactly? Fuck, even if you're happy, you can just yell that to the clouds and the airplanes and the confused-looking gulls. Release yourself into the wider world..

Tuesday, May 12, 2009

Horoscope

Posted By on Tue, May 12, 2009 at 5:28 PM

ARIES MAR 21 — APR 19
You're kind of like the Neutral Milk Hotel of cool kids, Aries. You did that one thing a long time ago, which people still talk about; but most of those people actually think you're dead. You need to come up with something to let the world know you're alive (even just to let yourself know). Forget the concept albums, have you thought about a well-timed streak?

TAURUS APR 20 — MAY 20
The next most terrifying animal-borne illness will assuredly be the the Adirondack Squirrel Stutter. The first cases will appear in the Catskill region and will sweep down the Hudson River in a chattering deluge of incomplete sentences and awkward communication. The pandemic will culminate in the collapse of the radio industry. Are you prepared, Taurus?

GEMINI MAY 21 — JUNE 20
It takes a little bit more than that to make it in this city, Gemini. It troubles me that you actually think you've put in the necessary time and care to be ready for your "big break," as you call it. It takes years of cultivating contacts and waiting for the right moment to strike. I'm still waiting. Yup. Waiting for the perfect time to become rich and famous. Can you recommend an agent?

CANCER JUNE 21 — JULY 22
Is this time going to be different? Are you finally going to say, "Enough is enough, I'm tired of missing out on free ice cream samples"? Being assertive doesn't mean you're rude, Cancer, it just means you'll have few excused to complain about stuff. If you don't ever try, you can just blame the world for your woes, and that will just leave you bitter and alone in the end. Is that what you want?

LEO JULY 23 — AUG 22
Did you grow up on a crescent? A court? An avenue? Or better still, a boulevard, lane or cul-de-sac? Your psychological profile as an adult, some studies say, is directly linked to the psycho-geographical space you first inhabited as a child. Life on a "road" makes you independent but wary; on an "alley," secretive and dirty. You have to know the past, Leo, to change the future.

VIRGO AUG 23 — SEP 22
The Devil can't really make you do something you wouldn't normally do anyway. At least that's how I interpret my three weeks of Sunday school lessons from Lem Kock's daughter in the autumn of my tenth year. She was beautiful, Lem Kock's daughter, hair the color of dijonnaise, teeth like Canadian dimes. Oh, Virgo, don't blame the Devil for Lem Kock's daughter...

LIBRA SEP 23 — OCT 22
We all know that Nina Simone went pretty much straight-up crazy toward the end of her life in France. She shot at dudes and often wouldn't use fabric softener. Foibles like these, Libra, are, of course, the price of genius. But here's the real trick: just because you have foibles like these does not, ipso facto, make you a genius. Right now, you're just irritating. Get it?

SCORPIO OCT 23 — NOV 21
Half way is better than not at all. But all the way is the best. You know what I'm saying, Scorpio... a triple is the most exciting play in baseball, but what everyone wants is the home run. Is this getting dirty? Is your sex life ok? Because a healthy sex life is important for happiness. This also includes masturbation. So, yeah, settle for the bunt single if you have to... just get on base.

SAGITTARIUS NOV 22 — DEC 21
So, you're an amateur cartographer now, eh Sagittarius, ready to explore the world and make maps of everywhere you go... I have bad news for you: everywhere has been mapped. It's been mapped in three dimensions, in four, in two, it's been mapped in chocolate, in butter — you're going to need a radically new angle. And that angle is stuffed animals! Maps made of plush. Do it.

CAPRICORN DEC 22 — JAN 19
Oh how we talk and just let the words come out without any thought to their sharpness, their raw wounding edges. And what seems like a mere scratch at first grows into a blooming infection, spreading through the host until there is no other option but to amputate and cauterize. You know, Capricorn, for a waitress, you can be really mean sometimes.

AQUARIUS JAN 20 — FEB 18
Just because the canoe doesn't look riverworthy to you, Aquarius, doesn't mean we shouldn't take it out for spin. C'mon, you'll love it. We'll pack a lunch — sandwiches, chips, a banana, a thermos of coffee and a bottle of wine — plop the dogs in the middle, and let the current take us into the late afternoon. Not so bad, right? There is no reason why this can't happen...

PISCES FEB 19 — MAR 20
I've never really believed in the soul. The idea of an immaterial, eternal self that exists like hydraulic fluid in a backhoe, animating the corporal machine, seems patently absurd to me. But (and this is a big, important "but"), I understand that this idea might be important to you, Pisces, so I won't make fun of it too much. The only thing I'll say is that your "soul" needs a pep talk. It's flagging.

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