ARIES MAR 21 — APR 19
Life is like Pointillism, the Fin de Siècle painting technique whereby images are comprised of infinitesimal points of light that, seen from a distance, create unified fields of color—solid pictures made from discrete marks. This, Aries, is a lot like life, because sometimes, when you’re too close to the painting, all you see is little dots. Step back, take a breath, and drink a bucket of absinthe.

TAURUS MAY 21 — JUNE 20
My German is rusty, but I’m pretty sure that dude just told you to “shut up and sit down.” Are you going to take that shit, Taurus? From a little German man? Because seriously, haven’t you taken enough abuse in the last few weeks, from the chickpea stew incident to the federal indictment? When are you going to stand up for yourself? Now. Now is when you take back some dignity.

GEMINI JUNE 21 — JULY 22
The dodo gets a really bad rap as a stupid animal, to which I say, “C’mon people, can’t we just leave the extinct alone, and let them rest in peace?” And really, lying on the beach all day eating shell fish and cold relaxin’ in the tropics seems like a pretty cool existence, sort of the opposite of dumb. Do you feel like you don’t get enough credit, Gemini? Well, stop making it look so easy, then.

CANCER JUNE 21 — JULY 22
It’s going to get cold, soon, Cancer, so you’d better get ready to wrap your toes up real tight. I once knew a man in Moose Factory, Ontario, who forgot to wrap his toes up one cold November night and he lost them all to frostbite. The cool thing was that he had his feet replaced with ice skates, and now he’s the leading scorer in the Tundra League. Moral? Keep your stick on the ice.

LEO JUNE 21 — JULY 22
We’ll try. We’ll try really hard. We’ll try really hard and we’ll probably succeed for a while. And then the lights will go down. You’ll pull a flashlight out of your knapsack but you’ll drop it and it will roll along between the desks creating a weird flickering light across the far blackboard. Why are we breaking into your old school, Leo? And why am I in your dream?

VIRGO JUNE 21 — JULY 22
The heart is a complicated organ. There are tubes and conduits that pump blood and water and wine and tea and heavy cream all through the body. Sometimes, if the wine and cream get mixed up, you’ll remember something you’d long ago forgotten, and you’ll stop right there in the street and you’ll stare at that thing in your mind’s eye until it’s all you can see. Don’t stare too long, Virgo.

LIBRA JUNE 21 — JULY 22
A “loss leader” in the restaurant business is something you serve to entice people, without worrying about making a profit. Like free coffee, or moose pie. I think you could use a “loss leader” of your own, Libra, something you could just sort of throw out there with little expense, like a new beret or a fake Australian accent. Once you attract attention, then you can use your charm.

SCORPIO JUNE 21 — JULY 22
You should take up rock climbing. That is my astrological advice to you, Scorpio. Normally I try to keep things suitably mysterious over here at stargaze corner, but I’m getting such a clear sense of you on one of those indoor walls with all the ropes, having the time of your life, that I have no choice. If you start rock climbing, I will guarantee that you will be a happier person.

SAGITTARIUS JUNE 21 — JULY 22
Not even lions would scare me away from the kind of opportunity that will soon present itself to you, Sagittarius. Not even giant, armor-plated, remote-controlled lions with lasers for eyes and missiles for teeth. You see, there’s something wonderful waiting for you just around the corner, but you’re going to have to be brave, because really, there will be lions waiting to pounce.

CAPRICORN JUNE 21 — JULY 22
Sitting in the dark with a slice of cold pizza and a banjo is just about my favorite thing to do. Munching on solidified mozzarella, pickin’ out great old tunes from the Blue Ridge Mountains, taking sips from the bottle… But the darkness is the best part: it’s like a gentle coat filled with special warm hot cross buns that will never let you feel sad or cold or lonely. Turn out the light, Capricorn.

AQUARIUS JUNE 21 — JULY 22
You are a peach, Aquarius. A delightful (if not a little messy) piece of sweet fruit that’s up for just about anything. You can be eaten straight from the farmstand on a sunny summer day, chopped up and preserved for cold winter afternoons, or made into a delicious cobbler for those special dinners where the top-shelf Zinfandel gets passed around. You’ll always be a peach.

PISCES JUNE 21 — JULY 22
Live fast or die old? Well, not exactly, Pisces. Take old Bill Burroughs for example. That sonofabitch lived to be 83 years old, after a lifetime of extreme fast living and totally irresponsible stewardship of his own body. And then you have people like, oh I dunno, some healthy dude, who just walks outside one day and gets hit by a milk truck. The universe is capricious, but offers much pleasure.