The World, The Whales, the Blood Red Sun Horoscopes

Aries (3/21 - 4/19):  That poor Orca mama, carrying her dead baby for all those days.  Aries, the saddest thing ever is raw grief, the feeling that we usually work hard to dilute and gloss over in all the ways we can.  We have the capacity to love with all our being and then the inevitable losing.   And there's that whale, carrying that baby day after day, reminding each one of us of the state of our own hearts.  Let the tears flow, Aries.  Its gonna be okay.

Taurus (4/20 – 5/20):  There is a new-ish low-powered FM radio station in the area, and it has about 12 listeners because did I say low-power?  The reception is spotty which adds to the charm.  They have messages from the senior center, and notices about bridge closures, and lots of good music.  On Sunday morning, a local Buddhist has a show about mindfulness, and two men in the maximum security prison 10 miles away like to listen.  But because of the poor reception, they have to contort themselves and hold on to each other to form a human antennae so that they can hear Buddhist radio.  Talk about hope for mankind! There it is, Taurus.  Two guys, in jail, collaborating to become an antenna so that they can listen to live buddhist radio.  Keep that, Taurus.

Gemini (5/21 - 6/21):  I've been enjoying my newest side-hustle, hostessing at the Grange, which allows my rainman skills to fully blossom.  Shortest distance to table.  I know the way.  I will walk you there.  Follow me. You will never find the table without me.  When I return to my little station, I will tally you in one of three columns:  people I know, people I don't know, and people who seem to know me but I have no idea who they are.  Repeat.  Gemini, come see me!  

Cancer (6/22 – 7/21):  My hollyhock is blooming and I feel like the world should stop whatever they're doing and just go look at it.  It's the prettiest color and oh my gosh, that can occur in the midst of the terror in the world.  The hollyhock seed was underground, and then gathered itself up and forged out into this crazy situation, probably not at all aware of what it was getting into.  And now, I'm sure it's aware of the strange smoky sky and the sunsets that almost match it's brilliant red petals, and the strange vibe of humans waiting for more shoes to drop.  (The hollyhock is like, "wait, what's a shoe?  What's a foot?")

Leo (7/23 – 8/22):  I don't understand the news anymore.  Not in a big, "oh, there's nuance in this story that I haven't been paying close enough attention to" sort of way, like things in the middle east for the past 30 years, but in a very basic, "huh?" way.  I get up every day and plan to just focus in on what's real and true right here like the giant mess in my house and my work, and the pretty yellow dog.  But like that car wreck in the next lane, I can't help myself from just taking a quick peek.  And each day I'm more mystified.  Today I learned that the Manhattan Madame, the hedge fund manager who did a career change to run a prostitution ring for the rich and famous, testified in the Manafort trial.  Roger Stone, the prince of sleaze, says she "helped him build some websites."  Because if you needed a website built, duh, of course, you want to hire someone who traffics in sex.  So much to be confused about here, like, first off, why do these rich famous men need to hire prostitutes?  Isn't that the point of being rich and famous?  And who has a successful career in an ordinary banking field, like hedge funds, (whatever they are - yawn -- I feel as confused as the hollyhock does about the shoes), and wakes up one day and says, "I know!  I think I'll sell sex with young women to gross old men!"  Who does that? And why are the same 12 people in all of the icky scandals, like some strange version of a Dickens novel?  Leo, I think that's good news.  It means that the majority of people aren't creeps; they're lovely humans like yourself and there are only a dozen or so bad players that have momentarily gained control.  

Virgo (8/23 – 9/22): Cleaning:  Here's how it goes.  I decide to focus on one small area, the way they advise.  I pick a drawer that has seven things in it and a million crumbs.  This should be easy! But one of the seven things is a box of toothpicks, which is actually 100 things, and reminds me that I've always wanted to build a structure out of toothpicks, and cover it with very thin handmade paper made from nettles, and put a candle under it.  An hour later, the tiny drawer is sprawled out all over, and the glue and glue gun and tissue paper have all contributed to the mess, and there's a childlike weird little sculpture that might get an honorable mention in a kindergarten sculpture contest.  I throw the whole thing out and look at item #2, a bag of plastic straws.  Which, for some reason have a worse rap than all of the other plastic.  The straws are left from when one of my offspring had wisdom teeth extracted, and now I have 30 that I don't know what to do with.  Is it worse to a) sell them on the black market; b) toss them directly into the ocean; or c) put them back into the drawer?  I can't decide so I leave them on the counter.  Oh, time for cleaning is up!  We'll try again tomorrow.  Virgo, this is a horoscope SOS. 

Libra (9/23 – 10/22): Last night I spilled a little bit of beer on a flat table and guess what?  It didn't run off onto the ground.  It stayed directly on the table.  I guess the earth is flat after all.  Libra, run your own experiment this week.  

Scorpio (10/23 – 11/21): I went onto the Dark Web for the first time this week, for research purposes.  It's like Amazon for illegal stuff.  You can buy anything there, like a hit man, LSD blotters on images of Marilyn Monroe, or automatic rifles, and more, and everything has been reviewed and given stars.  Because you can trust the last guy who hired a hit man to give a good review.    You need a cryptocurrency to make a purchase, but you can buy bitcoin with a Visa card and convert it to any other currency that leaves (almost) no trace.  It blows my mind that we've taken the seedy part of each town and moved it to the ether where people with no hook-ups can get hooked up without even putting on shoes.  Or pants!  

  

Sagittarius (11/22 – 12/21): As someone who collects side-hustles to almost a freaky level, I've added an Etsy site to the mix.  This is the complete opposite of the dark web, where happy little people make charming little things and sell them to each other.  Why all the side hustles?  Because a fine contractor looked at my house and said it's kind of a tear down.  That's not gonna happen, Sag.  This house will fall down around me and the pretty yellow dog.  So I'm my own side-hustle kick-starter machine.  Sagittarius, this week, be your charming self.  Come hang out with me too.

Capricorn (12/22 - 1/19): Acting on a tip, I've started watching The Detectorists, which is hilariously understated about some guys who go around with metal detectors looking for Saxon coins.  Which brings me to a confession:  I have always wanted a metal detector.  But it seems kind of trashy and weird, like, "hi, can I come into your house with my apparatus and root around in your couch cushions?"  I guess people don't do that.  But it's basically the same thing.  "I'm going to wander around in the grass after the concert and find things you lost and keep them, okay?"  But it's not about keeping the stuff, it's the magic of surprise, the finding of things that you don't expect.  This week, someone found a key and turned it in to me, and even being the middle-woman was kind of awesome. I also found a little painted rock that said I was enough.  As if the rock knows.  Cap, don't get your intel from the rocks.  Use your brilliant mind.  

Aquarius (1/20-2/18):  It's so hard to write these days because everything seems so trivial in the face of what's going on in the world.  It's all so sad and maddening and paralyzing and I can't even believe that every day is worse than we feared.  And I don't want to be the person who is drawing bugs while Rome burned but jeez, that's what I do.  I draw bugs.  I can't help it.  Aquarius, do what you can each day to be bright and shiny and light the path for your fellow creatures.  Be gentle and kind and thoughtful and try to keep your feet on the ground and your head high.

Pisces (2/19 – 3/20): Life is sucky sometimes.  But sometimes, the worst thing that could ever happen turns out to be the best thing that ever happened, which explains why memoir is a thing.  We're with you.  Chin up.