Taurus (4/20 – 5/20): Ok, while we're on that theme, I just started this book by Megan Daum, which is excellent. "People who weren't there like to say that my mother died at home surrounded by loving family. This is technically true, though it was just my brother and me and he was looking at Facebook and I was reading a profile of Hillary Clinton in the December 2009 issue of Vogue."
That's how life goes. All these potentially momentous moments, but we sleep through them or play solitaire, or god forbid, read about Hilary. Taurus, focus focus focus. Try not to miss a thing.
Gemini (5/21 - 6/21): In Norway, they've been having precipitation involving earthworms, which is amazing. For the worms, especially. To spend most of your tiny little alimentary-canal-dominated life crawling around in the dirt, and then, suddenly, to fly. I so wish I could speak earthworm. Those annelids know something that we all dream about. Do you think earthworms dream, Gemini? Do birds dream about crawling in the dirt? Or do they just dream of invisibility? So many questions.
Cancer (6/22 – 7/21): That picture above is the air traffic control tower at SeaTac from the cemetery across the street, which for some very sad reason has a whole section devoted to babies and children. There are tiny fresh graves with offerings of breast milk. The heartache that lives in this world, Cancer. I can't stop thinking about that breastmilk and the earthquake. In an instant, people's lives changed and ended. Poof. Ride's over. It's amazing anyone gets out of bed at all. But keep getting up, day after day. It's all we get!Leo (7/23 – 8/22): About the plastic fast: it's for the obvious reasons. And of course, it's nearly impossible, because if you need to purchase or protect anything, there's plastic involved. Unless you're ultra conscientious and make everything from scratch, like bread and tortillas and cheese and yogurt. And you save your leftovers by wrapping them in organic cotton that's been painted with beeswax.
I've mostly been eating stuff that I can find around my house because I'm too lazy to milk a cow, make cheese, yogurt, crackers, blah blah blah. Of course, I'm not going to eat Geoffrey, my imaginary pet rabbit. But he's the only meat around that isn't wrapped in plastic. Dinner has been a head of red cabbage with chopped walnuts and artichoke hearts from a can that was probably lined with plastic. Leo, please join me in trying to reduce plastic use. Every little bit matters, they say. The average American throws away 185 pounds of plastic every year, and it ends up in the ocean. Each little bag, Leo. It matters to that starfish, which is the punchline of a whole different story. But you get the gist.
Virgo (8/23 – 9/22): I saw a job description today, and I would like to announce that if I ever have to take a job that involves the keywords, "coordinate", "facilitate", or "oversee", I think I'd rather just do what that poor rat did. Drown in a small body of water. If it's a good job, I think the verbs used to describe it should be in the active vocabulary of an eight-year-old. Like, "stir", "dig", "crawl", etc.
Libra (9/23 – 10/22): Here's why you shouldn't write a memoir, Libra. Because, when you tell people you're writing a book, they'll ask what it's about, and you tell them it's a memoir. They'll say, so it's about you, then? And you know they're thinking, um, what makes her worthy of a book? So it's awkward, but you'll admit that yes, it is sort of about you. Then they'll say, "So, is it interesting?" And so on. Awkwardness heaped upon awkwardness. Be one with the awkwardness, Libra.
Scorpio (10/23 – 11/21): Tomorrow is Poem in Your Pocket day! You know what to do, Scorp. Bring extra, because everyone isn't prepared, like you. (We all wish we were, but that's a different horoscope.) Enjoy. And hey, check this out!
Sagittarius (11/22 – 12/21): If I had a postage scale I would have weighed the large mouse, because it weighed a lot. But speaking of Stamps dot com, which is the way I know to get a free rodent scale, has anyone ever actually ordered from Zabars like all the other shut-ins? Actually, I'm more interested in ordering this, because crickets are the new kale. (Don't you hate it when someone says one noun is the new other noun? Me too!)
Capricorn (12/22 - 1/19): "Character," Joan Didion said, "is the willingness to accept responsibility for one's own life -- the source from which self-respect springs." Damn, she's brilliant. So here's more:
To live without self-respect is to lie awake some night, beyond the reach of warm milk, the Phenobarbital, and the sleeping hand on the coverlet, counting up the sins of commissions and omission, the trusts betrayed, the promises subtly broken, the gifts irrevocably wasted through sloth or cowardice, or carelessness. However long we postpone it, we eventually lie down alone in that notoriously uncomfortable bed, the one we make ourselves. Whether or not we sleep in it depends, of course, on whether or not we respect ourselves. - "On Self Respect", Slouching Towards Bethlehem
Cap, you've got everything you need for a great life. Live it! Treat your loved ones, including yourself, with love.
