Poetic License Horoscope for Oct 22-28

Note: The awesome thing about made-up horoscopes is that the stars take requests. Comment with your sign and wishes, and I’ll use them as inspiration in the coming weeks.



Scorpio (Oct. 22-Nov. 22): Happy birthday-month! Here’s what I appreciate about you: You appear in all my dreams about gambling. You appreciate lightning bugs’ freedom. You have a tendency toward hats. Give yourself something glowing this week, something warm and a little retro.



Sagittarius (Nov. 23-Dec. 22): So called “free spirits” often seem (to this Virgo, at least) to be the most enslaved. Embrace your logistics. See how many things you can lavishly plan for. Light a candle for your perpetual calendar. Make a toast to every step you’ve purposefully taken.



Capricorn (Dec. 23-Jan. 20): It’s like in that movie All Summer in a Day. A little girl from Earth is living on Venus, where it does nothing but rain. One day, the sun comes out, and some mean Venus girls lock her in a room. A streak of sun falls across the floor and onto her hand. Except here, you know, it’s sunny a lot more often.



Aquarius (Jan. 21-Feb. 19): Lily Tomlin said “Forgiveness means giving up all hope for a better past.” I’m trying to do this, but I keep getting snagged on little nails and splinters of love and regret. Love and luck to us both.



Pisces (Feb. 20-March 20): My very, very wise friend Shanny Jean told me that whenever she feels impressed/enamored/ intimidated by someone, she resists the urge to run away and instead asks them to be her pen pal. This is some of the most useful advice I’ve ever gotten.



Aries (March 21-April 18): One of my favorite grown-up poetry students sent me an acceptance letter that she got for some of her poems. I had the following two thoughts: 1. THAT IS AMAZING! I am so PROUD! and 2. That journal rejected me…Mostly number 1, though.



Taurus (April 19-May 18): Andy Warhol said ‎”An artist is someone who produces things that people don’t need to have but that he — for some reason — thinks it would be a good idea to give them.” Apply this any way you want to, from murals to mix tapes to simply giving someone the what-for.



Gemini (May 19-June 21): The Dandy Warhols said “A long time ago, we used to be friends/But I haven’t thought of you lately at all/If ever again/ a greeting I send to you, short and sweet is all I intend.” Lies! Lies, I tell you.



Cancer (June 22-July 23): ): In case you didn’t get to watch the season finale of Mad Men, here are some anti-spoilers for you: Betty didn’t have any breakthroughs, Don “Only likes the beginning of things,” and Sally is getting closer and closer to her Valley of the Dolls-esque spinoff.



Leo (July 24-Aug. 23): The wife and I are obsessed with Veronica Mars. Originally, I was distrustful of Veronica because she is an intrepid So-Cal blondie who is not Buffy. But the adorableness of Kristen Bell won out, and here we are. Veronica’s advice for you is: “Here’s what you do … you get tough.”



Virgo (Aug. 24-Sept. 23): The Last Weatherman is a new poem by Derrick Brown. It’s all about this weatherman who keeps flubbing his lines until he turns them into poetry. I like stories about how you fuck up until you find the work you’re meant to have. Jeez, I hope they’re true.



Libra (Sept. 24-Oct. 21): Luckily, you are not a Calvinist. Your fate is not predetermined. Decide for yourself whether or not you have been given grace, and then go out and do something fun.

Poetic License Horoscope for Oct 8-14

Libra (Sept. 24-Oct. 21): Oh, darling. You need a good, bossy wife, someone to keep the fridge full of nutrients, let you spend what you need to, make you sleep regularly, to check if you’re taking actual lunch breaks at work, which should preferably be spent reading.

Scorpio (Oct. 22-Nov. 22): Parents whose children have achieved You Tube fame should leave well enough alone. I don’t need to see “Kittens Inspired By Kittens Girl Explains World War II” or “Deleted Scenes from Jessica’s Affirmation.” Let the kids go outside, already.

Sagittarius (Nov. 23-Dec. 22): Make yourself a mix called “Positive Expressions of Negative Emotions.” You may want to include “I Don’t Love Anyone” by Belle and Sebastian, which includes: “I met a man today/And he told me something pretty strange
There's always somebody saying something/He said, "The world was as soft as lace."

Capricorn (Dec. 23-Jan. 20): At the end of this week’s Mad Men, Dr. Faye has sold herself out for the good of Don’s company. She lays her head on his shoulder and “Welcome to my World” plays over the credits. Influence is real. Avoid snuggling up to handsome shapeshifters.

Aquarius (Jan. 21-Feb. 19): I’m bothered by the Lifetime-ization of this season’s Project Runway—you can hardly tell its promos from Reviving Ophelia’s. Let’s leave aside the broken heroines and get back to the sewing, please.

Pisces (Feb. 20-March 20): Rumi wrote: “Each has to enter the nest made by the other imperfect bird.” Collect your twigs and ribbon, your delicate detritus, your molted feathers. Use your little mess to decorate someone’s heart.

Aries (March 21-April 18): It’s GBLT History Month! Celebrate by visiting “It Gets Better,” Dan Savage’s You Tube channel where LGBT grown-ups post videos encouraging our youth to hang in there. The wife and I are gonna make a video for it, just as soon as we clean the house.

Taurus (April 19-May 18): In the immortal words of Tracey Jordan: “I lost my mood ring and I don’t know how I feel about it.”

Gemini (May 19-June 21): I went and visited my childhood home last week. The latest owners had fixed it up so nice and cheerful. It was freshly painted and expanded, and they added more trees, a pond, and a carriage house—fancy! Seeing it that way made my soul feel refurbished.

Cancer (June 22-July 23): See how many versions of “I Can’t Stand the Rain” you can find/ I think you’ll discover that not only are you super fly, but you are, in fact, super duper fly.

Leo (July 24-Aug. 23): The radio edit of Cee Lo Green’s “Fuck You” sounds really boring. While redubbers-of-80s-movies-for-TV may disagree, “Forget” is not a synonym for “Fuck.”

Virgo (Aug. 24-Sept. 23): I’m having trouble thinking up any slogans to put on a placard for my trip down to Jon Stewart’s “Rally to Restore Sanity”—I think maybe that’s because I am immoderate. Oh well, emotional lefties change the world all the time for the better.

Poetic License Horoscope for Sept 17-23

Wasn't it a fun week?

Poetic License Horoscope for Sept 10-16

http://citypaper.net/blogs/criticalmass/2010/09/10/poetic-license-horoscopes-sept-10-16/

Don't Forget to Check Your Horoscope!

http://bigbluemarblebooks.blogspot.com/2010/08/poetic-license-horoscope-for-august-27.html

Poetic License Horoscope for August 20-26

Spending Warm Summer Days Indoors, Like the Smiths

Leo (July 24-Aug. 23): Once you pointed out that when the contestants on, say, The Next Food Network Star, are talking about how the camera makes them freeze up, they are, IN FACT talking to the camera, it kind of turned my world upside-down.

Virgo (Aug. 24-Sept. 23): Make no mistake: Sometimes we are all just Mad Men secretaries, crying in a Pond’s focus group about the fleetingness of the muse’s attention. Nothing to do but wash your face, smash a vase, and wait.

Libra (Sept. 24-Oct. 21): This week, inspired by the hack-bot that stole my email contacts, I am meditating on imperfection. Please take all implosions, sick days, and the way things are collapsing like an Inception cityscape as signs that the universe loves you and wants you to start fresh.

Scorpio (Oct. 22-Nov. 22): Last weekend I went camping with my family. One of the highlights was sitting around reading with my little niece. She was reading an incredibly well-loved copy of Harry Potter and the Order of the Pheonix. Love something/someone so much that the pages come out, the edges furl, the binding unglues, but the story is still legible.

Sagittarius (Nov. 23-Dec. 22): From Julia Cameron’s The Artist’s Way: “It is pretty clear that the creator itself did not know when to stop. There is not one pink flower, or even fifty pink flowers, but hundreds…this creator looks suspiciously like someone who just might send support for your creative ventures.”

Capricorn (Dec. 23-Jan. 20): In The New York Regional Mormon Singles Dance, Elna Baker hilariously weighs the dilemmas which arise between her secular self and her Mormon self. In the end, though, she can’t see the moon without saying “Hi, God.”

Aquarius (Jan. 21-Feb. 19): In Sloane Crosleys’ book I Was Told There’d Be Cake, she writes about working in the Museum of Natural History’s butterfly exhibit. Once, she didn’t check her coat well enough before clocking out—a tiny rare blue butterfly had ridden her lapel to freedom.

Pisces (Feb. 20-March 20): Feng Shui your life. Recycle you recyclables. Remove all old bosses, famous strangers, and nemeses from your email contacts. Return the stagnant Chi of unread library books.

Aries (March 21-April 18): Every time I watch The Real L Word, I think these three things: 1. This show is mostly about emptiness, and that’s okay. 2. I’m very grateful that my wife is accepted and loved as a member of my family. Shame on you, Tracy’s mom. 3. Natalie: run!

Taurus (April 19-May 18): One summer not too long ago, my friend Ty and I decided to fill plastic Easter eggs with various talismans: love notes, drawings, chess pieces, mini tarot cards, etc. We hid them all around the city of Syracuse, NY. Give random and unexpected gifts, preferably to strangers.

Gemini (May 19-June 21): My mom says that when she dreams about camping, it’s not the recreation, but the cooking. Try a new recipe for campfire eggs. Eat bacon out of a foil pan. Be flexible about what can be called coffee.

Cancer (June 22-July 23): Go to the stillest body of water you can find. Find some round, flat stones. Practice your skipping technique. Meditate on gravity, water, erosion.

Resolution # 2: Be More Out in Lots of Ways

For my adult life, I really didn’t give a lot of thought at all to being bi—I fell madly for whoever I fell for and didn’t concern myself with gender I believed the romantic idea that a bi person would just kind of develop a gender-preference upon falling in love.(Whereas I’m realizing just how many gender preferences are available…) After all, my relationship with Amy started after a marathon of Clerks: The Animated Series made me feel like I could do without dudes for a while.

The itch started in 2004 when the Red Sox were playing the Yankees in the World Series. Back before Johnny Damon became a Yankee, he was a shaggy haired hottie. I had a dream where I couldn’t believe I was getting to pal around with him, where I just kept keeping with him from place to place.

These days, it’s Mad Men making me go to bed kind of straight. Funny how I’m superpissed at anyone chauvinistic, but Don’s secretary-assignations drive me swoony.

Anyway, when I started feeling attracted to men again, I panicked. I kept having these dreams of almost kissing guys. I tried to make artistic metaphors for these, but sometimes kissing is just kissing. I fell for my guy friends, got crushes that panicked my soul. I thought I would have to get divorced.

Amy is very well loved. I definitely do not want to get divorced. She loves me so wholeheartedly, so loyally, and I’ve known that we’re soulmates all along. Our second date was a meteor shower, for crying out loud.

But.

It’s very frustrating and claustrophobic to have this side of me that is not expressed.

So we made a compromise—if I meet someone who I think is worth it, I can date him. It’s been like that for—5 years? I’ve met a few people I would take that risk for, but they’ve turned out to be unrequited. They turned into prolonged (sometimes years-long) crushes that were very fruitful in terms of yielding poems and paintings, and too many friends-locked LiveJournal posts to count.

The trouble is, I think, I’m pretty monogamous for a polyamorist. Even when I am with that person who is driving me to distraction, I can’t stop talking about Amy. If I go out without her, to be all free and meet new people, I miss her.

But there is a part of me that is not being expressed. It’s not the thing itself that’s missing, but it’s something. Is there a limit to how much sublimation a person can do in a lifetime? Probably not.

This spring I had kind of an interim therapist. She pretended to be all understanding, but in the end, she kind of threw me under the monogamy bus. She said , “You can’t live in two cites at once.” But I can visit. Or I can live in Philly and still miss Orange county. It’s a bad metaphor—plane tickets are pretty easy to save up for…