good morning
horrors
ARIES (March 21-April 19): You're like grass sprouting up through a
crevice in a boulder, Aries; like a hawk that has built a nest on the roof of
a swank penthouse. You even remind me of an indie rock band that has
somehow cracked the Billboard charts without selling out. I don't know
how you've managed it, but I congratulate you on your ability to be cagily
opportunistic in difficult circumstances even as you remain true to
yourself. Now comes the *really* hard part: staying humble, cultivating
gratitude, renewing your commitment to unpretentious resourcefulness,
and continuing to do all the other things that got you to where you are
now.
TAURUS (April 20-May 20): Author Danny Cox is an "accelerationist,"
according to the promotional blurb on his website. His talent is to induce
"faster movement, higher efficiency, and increased productivity." I call on
you to be a different kind of accelerationist in the coming week, Taurus:
one who inspires visions of the big picture, purges pettiness from all
interactions, and agitates on behalf of the highest possible ideals. If that
leads to faster movement, higher efficiency, and increased production,
fine. If it doesn't, equally fine. Your assignment is to be a soul
accelerationist, not an ego accelerationist.
GEMINI (May 21-June 20): In his book, *Chronicles: Volume 1,* famed
Gemini bard Bob Dylan claims that he never wanted to be the voice of his
generation, let alone a prophet of protest leading a charge to overthrow
the corrupt empire. "I really was never any more than a folk musician who
gazed into the gray mist with tear-blinded eyes," he writes. "My deepest
dream was a house on a tree-lined block with a white picket fence, pink
roses in the backyard." I believe many of you Geminis will thrive in the
coming nine months if you pursue a similarly modest path. Beginning next
November, you may be called on to raise some beautiful and benevolent
hell, but in the short run I advise you to bolster your foundations with
tender loving care.
CANCER (June 21-July 22): Five hundred British art experts recently
voted to determine the most influential art work of all time. Was it
Leonardo da Vinci's "Mona Lisa" or Michelangelo's "David"? No. The
winner was "Fountain," the white porcelain urinal that Marcel Duchamp
mounted in a gallery show in 1917. "It reflects the idea that the creative
process that goes into a work of art is the most important thing," said
one of the voters, Simon Wilson. "The work itself can be made of
anything and can take any form." I nominate Duchamp's urinal to be the
most potent symbol in your world in the coming weeks, Cancerian. May it
inspire you to place fresh thinking above all other values. For the
foreseeable future, the greatest beauty will originate in imaginative
departures from the way things have always been done.
LEO (July 23-Aug. 22): Clint Eastwood's *Million Dollar Baby* is the best
Hollywood movie of 2004, said A.O. Scott in the *New York Times.* But
Salon.com's Charles Taylor panned the film, calling it leaden and boring, "a
compendium of every cliché from every bad boxing melodrama ever
made." I suspect that you will get equally contradictory reviews for your
life and work in the coming week, Leo. For instance, some people may
regard you as a magician who has transformed rot into splendor, while
others may think of you as a dabbler with too much self-esteem. Both are
wrong. More importantly, their opinions, whether good or bad, shouldn't
concern you. Be your own judge.
VIRGO (Aug. 23-Sept. 22): The wife of lottery winner Jack Whittaker
bemoans the day he struck it rich. Since collecting $113 million in 2002,
he has been in trouble with the law constantly, and has wasted a lot of
time gambling and hanging out at strip clubs. "I wish I would have torn
the lottery ticket up," says Jewel Whittaker. Let's hope you handle your
growing solvency with more aplomb, Virgo. My guess is that although
you're not going to win the lottery this year, your luck and hard work will
conspire to raise your disposable income. Don't let it make you too crazy.
LIBRA (Sept. 23-Oct. 22): In a recent study, researchers could not train
blue jays to postpone their desire. After a thousand repetitions, the birds
still kept gobbling down a tiny chunk of food instead of waiting a short
time for a much bigger piece. Many scientists believe that humans are
similarly hard-wired for instant gratification. If that's true, Libra, you must
resist it with all your power in the coming week. A better, more
substantial prize will soon become available if you can stop yourself from
grabbing the meager treat that's in front of your nose right now.
SCORPIO (Oct. 23-Nov. 21): I beg you not to do what Robert Chamberlain
did in his room at a Motel 6 in Chenango, New York last May. Please don't
buy 14 jars of petroleum jelly and smear the stuff all over yourself, the
walls, and the furniture. On the other hand, Scorpio, I do recommend that
you become as slippery as possible in the coming week, metaphorically
speaking. Don't stay too long in one place, don't commit yourself to long-
term plans, don't get stuck in dogmatic perspectives, and don't get
pinned down, period.
SAGITTARIUS (Nov. 22-Dec. 21): At a recent press conference, a reporter
asked President George W. Bush to explain what seemed like
inconsistencies in his previously announced intention to revise the Social
Security program. Bush said, "I'm not going to negotiate with myself"
about the issue, and avoided making a substantive response. I advise you
to take the opposite tack in the coming week, Sagittarius. It's crucial that
you negotiate with yourself profusely, maybe even debate and argue--
though I hope you'll stop short of getting into a fight with yourself. The
fact is, the life issues you're dealing with need vigorous input from all the
voices in your head. Even the seemingly irrational ones must have their
say in order for you to reach wise decisions.
CAPRICORN (Dec. 22-Jan. 19): "One of the strongest characteristics of
genius is the power of lighting its own fire," wrote essayist John W.
Foster. While you may not be a genius in the same way that Albert
Einstein or Emily Dickinson were, Capricorn, I believe that one of your
special talents deserves the title. The only problem is, you haven't
consistently given that talent the nurturing it needs to flourish. Would
you consider correcting this neglect in the coming weeks? No later than
March 1, I hope you will put into action a disciplined, long-term plan to
create a metaphorical greenhouse for this natural endowment of yours.
AQUARIUS (Jan. 20-Feb. 18): Every year the people of Dhami in India
celebrate Sati Pradha Mela, a raucous stone-throwing festival. I won't go
into the specifics of what they do, because I merely want you to steal the
basic idea. Why? Because according to my reading of the astrological
omens, it is now a perfect time for you to unleash your pent-up
aggressions in a flagrant yet harmless ritual. You can of course do this
any way you see fit, but here's my suggestion: Wander out into a wild
place and hurl about 20 big rocks in the direction of heaven.
PISCES (Feb. 19-March 20): Three times recently I've been driving home
after 11 p.m. when I've spied a strange scene unfolding at a
neighborhood house. The couple that lives there has been sitting around a
festively decorated table in the front yard. A group of maybe eight to ten
other people has been with them, and they've all been drinking from
champagne glasses, making boisterous toasts, laughing heartily, and
singing loud songs. I've been tempted to crash their little parties; it's
exhilarating to see such late-night outdoor merriment in drizzly 30-degree
weather during the bleak post-holiday season. I propose that you make
these weirdoes your role models in the coming week, Pisces. Let them
inspire you to be lavishly celebratory, convivial, and cheerful, even in
seemingly inhospitable circumstances.
Namaste
ARIES (March 21-April 19): You're like grass sprouting up through a
crevice in a boulder, Aries; like a hawk that has built a nest on the roof of
a swank penthouse. You even remind me of an indie rock band that has
somehow cracked the Billboard charts without selling out. I don't know
how you've managed it, but I congratulate you on your ability to be cagily
opportunistic in difficult circumstances even as you remain true to
yourself. Now comes the *really* hard part: staying humble, cultivating
gratitude, renewing your commitment to unpretentious resourcefulness,
and continuing to do all the other things that got you to where you are
now.
TAURUS (April 20-May 20): Author Danny Cox is an "accelerationist,"
according to the promotional blurb on his website. His talent is to induce
"faster movement, higher efficiency, and increased productivity." I call on
you to be a different kind of accelerationist in the coming week, Taurus:
one who inspires visions of the big picture, purges pettiness from all
interactions, and agitates on behalf of the highest possible ideals. If that
leads to faster movement, higher efficiency, and increased production,
fine. If it doesn't, equally fine. Your assignment is to be a soul
accelerationist, not an ego accelerationist.
GEMINI (May 21-June 20): In his book, *Chronicles: Volume 1,* famed
Gemini bard Bob Dylan claims that he never wanted to be the voice of his
generation, let alone a prophet of protest leading a charge to overthrow
the corrupt empire. "I really was never any more than a folk musician who
gazed into the gray mist with tear-blinded eyes," he writes. "My deepest
dream was a house on a tree-lined block with a white picket fence, pink
roses in the backyard." I believe many of you Geminis will thrive in the
coming nine months if you pursue a similarly modest path. Beginning next
November, you may be called on to raise some beautiful and benevolent
hell, but in the short run I advise you to bolster your foundations with
tender loving care.
CANCER (June 21-July 22): Five hundred British art experts recently
voted to determine the most influential art work of all time. Was it
Leonardo da Vinci's "Mona Lisa" or Michelangelo's "David"? No. The
winner was "Fountain," the white porcelain urinal that Marcel Duchamp
mounted in a gallery show in 1917. "It reflects the idea that the creative
process that goes into a work of art is the most important thing," said
one of the voters, Simon Wilson. "The work itself can be made of
anything and can take any form." I nominate Duchamp's urinal to be the
most potent symbol in your world in the coming weeks, Cancerian. May it
inspire you to place fresh thinking above all other values. For the
foreseeable future, the greatest beauty will originate in imaginative
departures from the way things have always been done.
LEO (July 23-Aug. 22): Clint Eastwood's *Million Dollar Baby* is the best
Hollywood movie of 2004, said A.O. Scott in the *New York Times.* But
Salon.com's Charles Taylor panned the film, calling it leaden and boring, "a
compendium of every cliché from every bad boxing melodrama ever
made." I suspect that you will get equally contradictory reviews for your
life and work in the coming week, Leo. For instance, some people may
regard you as a magician who has transformed rot into splendor, while
others may think of you as a dabbler with too much self-esteem. Both are
wrong. More importantly, their opinions, whether good or bad, shouldn't
concern you. Be your own judge.
VIRGO (Aug. 23-Sept. 22): The wife of lottery winner Jack Whittaker
bemoans the day he struck it rich. Since collecting $113 million in 2002,
he has been in trouble with the law constantly, and has wasted a lot of
time gambling and hanging out at strip clubs. "I wish I would have torn
the lottery ticket up," says Jewel Whittaker. Let's hope you handle your
growing solvency with more aplomb, Virgo. My guess is that although
you're not going to win the lottery this year, your luck and hard work will
conspire to raise your disposable income. Don't let it make you too crazy.
LIBRA (Sept. 23-Oct. 22): In a recent study, researchers could not train
blue jays to postpone their desire. After a thousand repetitions, the birds
still kept gobbling down a tiny chunk of food instead of waiting a short
time for a much bigger piece. Many scientists believe that humans are
similarly hard-wired for instant gratification. If that's true, Libra, you must
resist it with all your power in the coming week. A better, more
substantial prize will soon become available if you can stop yourself from
grabbing the meager treat that's in front of your nose right now.
SCORPIO (Oct. 23-Nov. 21): I beg you not to do what Robert Chamberlain
did in his room at a Motel 6 in Chenango, New York last May. Please don't
buy 14 jars of petroleum jelly and smear the stuff all over yourself, the
walls, and the furniture. On the other hand, Scorpio, I do recommend that
you become as slippery as possible in the coming week, metaphorically
speaking. Don't stay too long in one place, don't commit yourself to long-
term plans, don't get stuck in dogmatic perspectives, and don't get
pinned down, period.
SAGITTARIUS (Nov. 22-Dec. 21): At a recent press conference, a reporter
asked President George W. Bush to explain what seemed like
inconsistencies in his previously announced intention to revise the Social
Security program. Bush said, "I'm not going to negotiate with myself"
about the issue, and avoided making a substantive response. I advise you
to take the opposite tack in the coming week, Sagittarius. It's crucial that
you negotiate with yourself profusely, maybe even debate and argue--
though I hope you'll stop short of getting into a fight with yourself. The
fact is, the life issues you're dealing with need vigorous input from all the
voices in your head. Even the seemingly irrational ones must have their
say in order for you to reach wise decisions.
CAPRICORN (Dec. 22-Jan. 19): "One of the strongest characteristics of
genius is the power of lighting its own fire," wrote essayist John W.
Foster. While you may not be a genius in the same way that Albert
Einstein or Emily Dickinson were, Capricorn, I believe that one of your
special talents deserves the title. The only problem is, you haven't
consistently given that talent the nurturing it needs to flourish. Would
you consider correcting this neglect in the coming weeks? No later than
March 1, I hope you will put into action a disciplined, long-term plan to
create a metaphorical greenhouse for this natural endowment of yours.
AQUARIUS (Jan. 20-Feb. 18): Every year the people of Dhami in India
celebrate Sati Pradha Mela, a raucous stone-throwing festival. I won't go
into the specifics of what they do, because I merely want you to steal the
basic idea. Why? Because according to my reading of the astrological
omens, it is now a perfect time for you to unleash your pent-up
aggressions in a flagrant yet harmless ritual. You can of course do this
any way you see fit, but here's my suggestion: Wander out into a wild
place and hurl about 20 big rocks in the direction of heaven.
PISCES (Feb. 19-March 20): Three times recently I've been driving home
after 11 p.m. when I've spied a strange scene unfolding at a
neighborhood house. The couple that lives there has been sitting around a
festively decorated table in the front yard. A group of maybe eight to ten
other people has been with them, and they've all been drinking from
champagne glasses, making boisterous toasts, laughing heartily, and
singing loud songs. I've been tempted to crash their little parties; it's
exhilarating to see such late-night outdoor merriment in drizzly 30-degree
weather during the bleak post-holiday season. I propose that you make
these weirdoes your role models in the coming week, Pisces. Let them
inspire you to be lavishly celebratory, convivial, and cheerful, even in
seemingly inhospitable circumstances.
Namaste