Taurus (4/20 – 5/20): The other night I stopped on my way home from the airport at a wedding, which is a good way to re-enter life. Hanging out with good friends, eating food, and celebrating. Even though I was under-dressed and covered with that oily layer of airport grime and the smell of anxious humans confined to a small terrifying metal box, everyone was welcoming and made it okay that I showed up empty-handed smelling like the airport. Oh, and there was a beautiful handmade cake. Let that be your week, Taurus. Friends and cake and celebrating.
Gemini (5/21 – 6/21): Every so often, you get to the part in your life when a big outing is taking a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and a small bag of pretzels to a big ugly mall for a picnic. See if you can make that good. Celebrate anyway, appreciate the sticky tabletop and the weird christmas music. If tears come? Call it weeping. It sounds better, stronger, more purposeful than crying.
Cancer 6/22 – 7/21: I was having a beer the other day with a few friends, and one of them said, "Hey, let's go play blackjack in this card room I know about." How often does that happen? You don't have to answer that. So I said yes, and we went to a pretty strange concrete windowless world where the people were glassy-eyed and desperate. For some reason, I was tasked with cutting the cards all evening because one drunk guy thought I was good luck. Maybe I was, because I went in with $20 and left with $50. Anyway, it's the dark times. Do stuff to shake it up. Take a card on a 16 once in a while.
Leo (7/23 – 8/22): Speaking of the dark times, my iPod, which has an inappropriate amount of importance in my life, died the other day, and I can't even describe how quiet and wrong it is to have no music in the darkest time of the year, but sometimes life is quiet like that, and we have to get used to it. But the music I'd like to recommend to you, Leo, is Western States Motel. Toss in a little Fleet Foxes and you're good for the week.
It's good to have goals, Virgo. And that's a fine one, not tripping over the cord. It's within reach, it makes the world a little bit better, and requires some striving. One of my goals is to not date anyone who needs to be signed out -- from an asylum, work release, whatever. I'm not saying it's been easy, Virgo, but that's why they call it a goal. Set some of your own week. And no, you can't steal mine. Taken.
Scorpio (10/23 – 11/21): There are two kinds of people, Scorpio. The ones who bring joy, and the ones who suck it. Thank goodness you're here. We need more of your kind in this dark dark time. Anyway, your horoscope? Sometimes, my friends, you have two shitty choices, and you have to pick one or it picks you. If you can't figure out what to do, imagine what a really cool, functional ethical person would do, and just copy. The way isn't always easy, blah blah blah.
Sagittarius (11/22 – 12/21): Voyager 1 reached the magnetic highway this week, as you surely know. I don't quite understand what the magnetic highway is, but I think it's like the turnstile at the edge of the solar system, letting things in and out. Stay back from the magnetic highway, but if you do get sucked up, get your hand stamped so you can return.
Capricorn (12/22 – 1/19): Speaking of goals, my daughter set a goal of living where she doesn't ever need to wear shoes, which makes me indescribably proud and concerned. In a weird bit of, "art imitates life" irony, a beautiful portrait of her bare feet is displayed in our local bar, which seems good and right. Like, she's the only one allowed in there with bare feet. Capricorn, take that and make a horoscope out of it. I'm tired.
Aquarius (1/20 – 2/18): I was at this fancy lunch the other day in a private home, and there was art everywhere, like an original Chihuly and such, and I tried to play my favorite secret party game, CVR, but it didn't take, probably because I was the only one who knew we were playing it, which sounds weird and creepy and disappointing, but really, it isn't. Perhaps because of all the art. Anyway, I'd tell you the game but that would spoil it. Basically, it's a method of getting people off the boring topics and on to something else. It's that time of year, so I'd like to suggest you make up your own game, and then test it on me. We should be talking about interesting things, and making stuff, and eating soup. And bread.
Pisces (2/19 – 3/20): Next month will be better than this one, I promise. The children won't be so sick, and the conversations won't be so difficult, and so on. In fact, you should have a party. Sure, I'll come! (Oh, was that sort of awkward?)