Poetic License Horoscope for January 28-February 3

Poetic License Horoscope for January 28-February 3

Aquarius (Jan. 21-Feb. 19): Our brains are programmed to remember danger. That’s why one saber-tooth complaint can loom larger than one hundred compliments. Don’t lie awake trying to forget teeth. Collect praise like Mancala marbles.

Pisces (Feb. 20-March 20): Winter is speeding by and in your dreams, it’s already Spring. Remember the leaves? They remember you!

Aries (March 21-April 18): My friend Fiona was INCENSED when some lady told her she was too young to understand snail mail. To that person she should quote Virginia Woolf: “Life is a luminous halo, a semi-transparent envelope surrounding us from the very beginning.”

Taurus (April 19-May 18): “The dream of the Nineties is alive in Portland” goes the theme song of my new favorite show, Portlandia. No matter where you are, try it: Sleep until 11, experiment with flannel, start your own adult hide-and-seek league. Fun, right?

Gemini (May 19-June 21): "True love is boundless like the ocean and, swelling within one, spreads itself out and, crossing all boundaries and frontiers, envelops the whole world" –Mahatma Ghandi

Cancer (June 22-July 23): Count your tropes like treasures: Your lists of flowers, the number of times you mention rain, your beautiful and ever-befuddling mate. Chime them like a clock, sing them like a mantra.

Leo (July 24-Aug. 23): This is your mix tape week. Make yourself a soundtrack for everything. Label all of your unnamed songs, archive your musical gifts.

Virgo (Aug. 24-Sept. 23): Some episodes of This American Life are like the boiling frog scenario, but with sadness. Sometimes you should turn it off before the misery gets too hot and listen to Judge John Hodgeman instead.

Libra (Sept. 24-Oct. 21): A favorite Libra poet of mine is always trying to give away his stage time—don’t do that. Take your turn and have your say—you’re worthy and your voice is beautiful.

Scorpio (Oct. 22-Nov. 22): Spring is coming like a hoped-for apology, a letter scented with lilacs and stamped with fresh earth. Can you hear the blossoming, underneath the crickle of ice?

Sagittarius (Nov. 23-Dec. 22): Your heart is as big as California. This time of year, I miss your perfect daffodils, your supermarkets of bright, inexpensive bouquets, your stretches of highway that smell like strawberries, your eucalyptus nights.

Capricorn (Dec. 23-Jan. 20): You are as romantic as late-night language lessons, as pretty as fingernails, as hopeful as church. Keep it up, you’re perfect.

Poetic License Horoscope for January 14-20

Note: The stars think that every day should be Martin Luther King, Jr. day, but if you happen to be off work on Monday, January 17th, find a service project in your neighborhood and join in—FUN!

Capricorn (Dec. 23-Jan. 20): You are a bouquet of January flowers, a Dutch Impressionist painting where everything’s blooming at once. Collect it all.

Aquarius (Jan. 21-Feb. 19): Read Super Sad True Love Story by Gary Shteyngart, but give yourself some recovery time afterwards--it’s a doozie.

Pisces (Feb. 20-March 20): No apocalyptic novels for you, only quilting novels and songs about knitting, cooking lessons or a fat stack of gardening manuals, the more pictures, the better. Keep flourishing, Pisces.

Aries (March 21-April 18): Get yourself a ticket to something decadent, especially if it’s free. A comedy spectacular, a dance party, a museum exhibition… they have sports this time of year, don’t they? Post up the ticket stub and start a collection.

Taurus (April 19-May 18): Cute-boy Taurus-spondent Elliott D. Smith says “We are nothing more than playgrounds for each other's music,” and I agree. Dance like a merry-go-round, like it’s almost your turn on the swings.

Gemini (May 19-June 21): Imagine all of the millions of circumstances that had to conspire so that there could be a you. How can this be? Aren’t you proud of it?

Cancer (June 22-July 23): Watch the perplexingly riveting documentary (?) Exit Through the Gift Shop, in which we see a filmmaker (?) forsake his genius footage in favor of an art show/prank full of sickening junk. (At least I think that’s what we see.) Don’t give up your footage for someone else’s genius—make whatever you’re compelled to make.

Leo (July 24-Aug. 23): Vitriol’s second definition: “Any of various sulfates of metals, such as ferrous sulfate (green vitriol), zinc sulfate, or copper sulfate (blue vitriol).” Find pictures of those and meditate on kindness.

Virgo (Aug. 24-Sept. 23): Watching Jon Stewart’s standup in my Dad’s apartment back in the Nineties, I never would’ve guessed what a reluctant leader/lightning field he was destined to become. You just never can tell about anybody.

Libra (Sept. 24-Oct. 21): Please take a listen to the Judge John Hodgeman podcast. It’s like The Marriage Ref, but with Skype and other kinds of disputes. (Is a machine gun a robot?) Sometimes Elna Baker is Guest Bailiff!

Scorpio (Oct. 22-Nov. 22): In the Winter, whenever my wife works late, I like to turn on Rachel Ray’s 30 Minute Meals for company. That’s a little sad, but I’ve learned so many things you can do with nutmeg! Also Rachel Ray is one of the most brilliantly absurd yammerers ever. Yesterday I heard her say this: “Hello, Mr. Honey Bear!”

Sagittarius (Nov. 23-Dec. 22): Your wishes will all come true through the magic of logistics—make your list of calls, print out the maps, check the bus lines. Jingle your pockets full of tokens and go.