Friday, January 4, 2013

DIY Horoscopes


Aries (3/21 – 4/19) I started this new year by doing two things that seemed like what Real People do.  One is that I threw out some old spices, bought new ones, and made a feast.  Including triple layer chocolate cake.  It's a little hard for my miserly self to buy the new spices, but I did, and now I hang out by the spice drawer breathing deeply.  A whole new jar of cardomon pods.  I'd like to recommend that, Aries.  Does that count for a horoscope?



Taurus (4/20 – 5/20):  The other thing I did is take my car to the car wash, first time in seven months.  Cars only get a certain amount of dirty, I've noticed.  Clean for 3 days, dirty-ish for 12, and then, in a particular form of miracle, they don't get any dirtier forever.  (Side note:  did anyone love that movie, "You, Me, and Everyone We Know" as much as I did?  And that part with the goldfish on the car?  I loved that.)  So that washing the car was a a tiny bit of a waste, but made me feel alternately grown up, and like a miracle wrecker.  Anyway, Taurus don't worry about being a grown up this week.  There's plenty of time for that in the future.  We can't live in the present forever, you know.

Gemini (5/21 – 6/21):  Sometimes I take little notes on my phone, and then never look at them.  Ever.  So those random notes are about to be put to good use right here.  Note 1:  Remind Erik.  Um, I hope Erik remembered, whatever it was.  Gemini, in case you had any doubt, I'm probably not the best one to do reminding.  The Geminis are said to be mutable, which is a good thing.  Ever going with the flow.  But this week, create a tiny bit of flow of your own, and invite me along.  I'll be mutable, I promise!

Cancer 6/22 – 7/21: Note 2:  "Brian Tolle, None".  No idea what that's about.  My research has revealed that there's an artist (kind of interesting), and a organizational development guy (kind of full of himself). I have no memory of why I noted that.  But given all the hope and joy and possibility that comes with a new year, let's assume it refers to the artist.  Let's assume your week will be all about art and not so much about organizational development.  I'm pretty sure we know what that means.  Shoes.

Leo (7/23 – 8/22):  Note 3:  The Night Circus. That's one more book that I haven't read. But I read the review in the NYT, which has some beautiful compelling language: "Magic without passion is pretty much a trip to Pier One: lots of shrink-wrapped candles." Let your week be full of magic and passion. Unwrap the candles, fer goddsakes. (And let the record show that passion without magic is a different brand of hell. Like a 2 am trip to Denny's but you're sober. Or an insurance salesman.)

Virgo (8/23 – 9/22):  Note 4:  You gotta let the algorithm run.  Okay, I believe that.  I do.  But I think this was more of a note for a beer bottle cap saying.  Wouldn't you like to open a beer and get that?  Long may you run, algorithm.  And you too, Virgo.  Long may you run, but short may your week be.

Libra (9/23 – 10/22): Note 5:  4000 Hooks.  Yet another book I haven't read.   It's a true story of fishing and coming of age (have we established for sure that those are different things, by the way?) on the high seas.  Would one of you Libras read that and let me know what you think?

Scorpio (10/23 – 11/21):  Note 6:  Making Toast by Rosenblatt.  This might just be too sad.  About a young mom dying, and her parents moving in to help raise the children.  But I do like stories involving toast (who doesn't?), and days involving toast.  In fact, I am going to stop myself right here from going on a big rant about how disappointing it is that no one eats gluten anymore.  Remember when you could bring brownies to a new neighbor?  Scorpio, forgive me.  That is one sorry horoscope.

Sagittarius (11/22 – 12/21):  Note 7:  Halloumi Cheese.  I totally remember this, because it was pretty much the best cheese I've ever eaten.  It cost approximately $1,200 per pound, but it was completely worth it, even for the marginally employed like myself.  You grill the cheese, and mix it with watermelon chunks and a bit of jalapeno pepper and lime juice or something.  Sagittarius, get some if you can, even if you need to take out a loan.

Capricorn (12/22 – 1/19):  Note 8:  Be stopped in your tracks by beauty.  I sort of remember hearing that at a lecture and thinking I would do more of that.  Right?  As if I'm going to read my phone notes and adhere to the instructions?  But that's my wish for you, Capricorn.  Be stopped in your tracks by beauty.  This very evening there was a gorgeous low-hanging pink curtain of cloud or ectoplasm or something other-worldly suspended over our little lake, and I was semi-stopped in my tracks, but really, no, I don't think it counts, because I didn't even get out of the car.  Spend your birthday month being awestruck that you get to be on this planet right now.  Make art.

Aquarius (1/20 – 2/18):  Note 9:  Octavia Butler Parable of Sower.  One more post-apocalyptic novel that I haven't read, but this one involves hyperempathy.  Aquarius, you don't have to read the book, but find a place for hyperempathy in your week.

Pisces (2/19 – 3/20):  Note 10:  Salad 10 dollars.  What does it mean, Pisces?  Was I going to buy it or sell it?  Is salad a metaphor?  Pisces are compassionate and charitable and quick to put the needs of others first.  So, if you could just help me figure out about the salad, that would probably be best.  Do I owe someone money?  Or a salad?  Is it you?

Okay, so ends the lamest horoscopes of the new year.  We can only hope it gets better.  Happy 2013.  Thanks for sticking this out.

6 comments:

  1. Today on the bus I heard an elderly man talking about heading to an atm at the route's end and I made sure when we exited that he had directions to the proper bank. Someone else knew where and I was a bit concerned about his doddering about the big city but he seemed competent enough and then waiting for the 2:00 return from route's end I assured him that this was the place and the driver was always timely and he told me of falling on some concrete but he always falls well and showed me the dirt on his backpack and when we entered the bus invited me to further converse and we discussed his officering a Canadian ship with 4000 troops in WWII and giving his great-grandson his Crown Victoria for passing driver's ed with flying colors and travel and Missoula where we've both lived previously and I made sure he knew we'd have to transfer and the bus driver kindly carried his pack from one to the other because that's the way they do it around here and I had to move my bike and had my own backpack full of glass chickens and another plastic bag of books and another plastic bag attempting to secure a thrifted first copy of the Spring 1981 issue of Bomb. He lives a few blocks past my stop which really isn't an official stop, there's only about three but if you pull the bell they'll stop wherever and so I stayed on the bus until his street and made sure the bell rang and the stop happened at the best place as he'd already described his rental and it was right there on Pacific Avenue, well, off Pacific Avenue and I went out the back door to get my bike having had my offer of carrying his pack politely, 92-year-old-manly refused and he headed toward the front and exiting fell sitting onto the bottom bus step and then accepted my help. The bus driver and I exchanging silent thank yous and looks of concern, I left my bike on the corner with the bag of books dangling and walked him and carried his pack to his front door where he invited me in so I retrieved my bike and had a tour of his rental and got a non-business card and an invitation to stop by and talk anytime and I will. But that just seems like normal empathy to me.

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    1. Slow Revel, I believe I've fallen in love, for only the second time this year, if that matters. (That doesn't count my long-time platonic intellectual crush on Emily Bazelon which was deepened when I heard the conundrums podcast last night). I came out of my long and wonderful yoga class, the second one I took today, if that says anything about my state of mind, and my hips and shoulders were all open and I was trying to be luminous, or at least not quite so dull, and there on my phone was your comment, and you pretty much had me at the backpack full of glass chickens.

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  2. Re: Note 9, it was a pretty good book, but don't feel too bad if you cross it off the list since I may be the reason that it was ever on the list. Keep it as a "maybe", maybe.

    Re: Note 10, if it was "$10 worth of mac and cheese", I could totally solve the mystery. The salad though...I'll keep researching.

    Re: a backpack full of glass chickens, I can totally relate to your warmed heart cockles. That is "track stopping beauty" at its finest.

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  3. Since I am sick, my horoscope this week has been all about reading my fate in the contents of the Kleenex so quite frankly, magic AND passion sound fantastic to me.
    I will try. Do they have that on Bravo TV? Does it come in a can? Because really, I'd like to try it.

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  4. Thank goodness. I've been counting on these!

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  5. Excellent :)

    I have stacks of notes like yours. Hate to throw them away in case I need them. Like that's ever going to happen :)

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