the Pants are back!

                        Dr. Pants McTurd's

           MORE Than True Horror-scopes

       (not associated with horror or scopes of any ilk)

                                 

The Doc’s Random Quote of the Week: “Never attribute to malice that which can be adequately explained by stupidity, but don't rule out malice.   ---Heinlein

Doc P’s Word of the Week: potvaliancy. I may be tipsy, but I’ll go dragon hunting!

Aries-  The way of the world is wyrd. And later that evolved into weird; but the way of wyrd is a tangled and askew skein. Wyrd is fate, which makes a great argument for the no free will thing, which is hard wired fer surely, but is not necessarily a real thing. Sure…’God doesn’t play dice with the universe’; but did Einstein consider a multiverse full of dark matter and deep fried twinkies? He probably did, he is Einstein. Or maybe he did in another universe---another level of reality that we’re not privy to because of its subatomic curvyosity®. Wyrd is fate. And because we ‘believe’ it exists, then it must hold truth---or water—yes! It holds water-- the universal solvent! You are awash in the way of wyrd. It’s a deep cleanse.

Taurus- So…schools of thought regarding bear activity, which usually occurs on the outskirts of ‘society’, hopefully not in cities at large, because you know---bears, for crap’s sake, with a dash of bipedalism and giant claws; they will eat your whole face. Colbert is dead on, as usual. Bears are to be feared; but…only proportionally to the number of bears vs humans in your immediate vicinity. Less bears, less reason to panic. More bears, buy a shotgun, and bury your trash—and your poop; because they have the keenest sense of smell in the Kingdom Mammalia; so, dude—pretty impressive, right? This week, prepare for bears—the literal ones and those in the mind’s eye.

Gemini- Things you deem to be illicit in nature are exactly what evolution wants. Or god---but point is, that mutation occurs on a mathematically provable pace and tempo, according to environment---which of course is multi-faceted and diverse, due to the nature of a (‘currently’) expanding universe; at least in theory-- depending on the invariable future that lies )‘before’( us; not to mention (but I will), the unforeseeable consequence of ‘free’ will—which at this point I think we can agree is probably hard wired into the brain via millennia upon millennia of change over time. Change over time. It’s perfect and mathematical, and it sets us free. How it will alter our evolution and mandate further mutation and the infiniteness of the ‘creator’?  I won’t say. I don’t want to spoil the unfolding of a great surprise. Know your truth and eat heartily.  

Cancer- According to Wikipedia, Da Vinci is defined as an Italian Renaissance polymath. And hey, that’s impressive-- POLY freaking MATH. Able to do pretty much anything, provided the canvas is unlimited, as well as the funding, and despite certain sexual proclivities that society still has problems with to this very inexplicable day. Give freedom to those that are gifted because they will return triple your investment. Even if you don’t personally recognize inherent genius, perhaps a more rarified version of exceptional genius may shine through all the muck and/or mire. Against all odds, some people prefer to break barriers and create their own timeline of their own will and sweat and tear and blood and toil—simply because there simply is nothing else. There is nothing else, in this Hemingway Multiverse®. Nothing is also beauty.

Leo- The history of cat photography annotated with clever sayings is a rich history indeed. For example, Lolcat is a fake bullshit word for LOL (which is also bullshit) and cat, meaning the picture of the cat with a funny expression combined with a stupid human contrived saying, the likes of which I could way improve upon. Idigresspointis, that cat photography has been nearly rampant since the 1870’s. And while I support the feline nation, I’m subtly disturbed by the fascination of cats and photography. It borders on the fetishistic side of voyeurism; and may ultimately be defined as cat porn. My serious advice to you is: regardless of my uneasiness, make your own cat porn before it’s too late. You will find it hilarious.

Virgo- What do Pope Innocent III, 13^th century Joachimites, Martin Luther of 95 Theses fame, and Christopher ‘rape the natives’ Columbus have in common? They all believed in a specific day on which the world would end. DOOMSDAY. Even smart guy Jacob Bernoulli thought there was a coming apocalypse, and don’t get me started on Pat Robertson’s beliefs-- what a schmuck. Here’s the thing: there’s not a day of any kind of reckoning, at least, I don’t think so; but maybe. There are tons of asteroids out there, and we’re trying like hell to turn this planet into a sauna. I ponder--, hard wired into our brains is a desire for the world to end, so that we can all have peace, so that we can all rest easy; because the world is pain---lots of pain, mucho dolor. Maybe this is hell, and when we die, it’s heaven; and we just have it backwards. Point is, I have no idea. Your take-away from this rambling nonsense should be to live each day to the fullest; because as Tennessee said via Lord Byron: ‘One must make voyages, attempt them!---there is nothing else.’ Get on board.

Libra- There is a fireball of luck inside of you and it’s bursting like in that first Alien movie, hopefully not out of your abdomen, but somewhere softer and more poignant, even if a little messy. It’s almost a sun, all nuclear furnace-like and fusion-rific—very trig, very trig indeed; not to mention, replete with Hostess goodies like the indomitable Twinkie, and the not-available-across-the-Mississippi-in-the-70’s Chocodiles—which was a real pisser to me, as I had fanicied them and developed a taste for, in my formative years in Le Saint Louis du Mis’ry. I’ve digressed---the fireball of luck—wield it wisely.

Scorpio- You need to let go of your transitional object. It’s weighing you down, and is merely a placebo that comforts the estranged and fearful mind parts. I’m not calling you a Linus and laughing at your blankie, but I suspect there is an object, a thing, or an idea that is being used as a transcendent for your psyche—some thing to transport the fearful part of the brain to the future, to the never scary now, where all mysteries are illumined and everybody gets a pizza pie and a smile from the manager. It could even be an outmoded way of thinking, or it could even be a term of art, totally froo-froo and laced in silk and confectionary neurons. Grab on to a new object, one that defines you in the now.

Sagittarius- I suppose happiness could be a warm blanket, but I bet it’s something more ethereal, and hard to define. But then, I grew up in an angry era—post nasty ill conceived televised war, economic recession, and then surprising abundance through government spending, all under a republican regime, led by an ex-actor and union member for irony’s sake. Overlords and tyrants were everywhere, and the America of my youth was very mistrustful and afraid—of pretty much everything. Not like today, where everything is different, and the structure of society is---- Wait…nothing’s really changed? It’s just that now we all have iPhones?? WTF? Maybe we only perceive societal change at a slow tempo, because if it moved as fast as we want it to, all the infrastructure, both literal and psychological, would be too precarious a perch from which to stand, and terror at every angle. The less things change, the more they stay the same, which is beneficial to the human psyche and the overall health of a democratic society. Ponder that shit, and get back to me.

Capricorn- Bruce Wayne and Scarlet Pimpernel—same deal. Stock characters that repeat over and over again in our shared history. The hero with a dark passenger, the big guy looking out for the little guy, as well as the infirm and betrayed. But I’m just a 20/21rst century pussy who gets panicked and asthmatic if the mail doesn’t arrive at the usual time. You, HOWEVER, are a man/woman/new species of internecine humans that exists in a rare continuum that envelopes and develops all existing technology into a new matrix of depraved deformity and erotic intangibles. Your sundries are beyond belief, compare and suspicion. You’re a Dexter and a Mozart. Just don’t get carried away. While maintaining this facile façade and intrinsic belief that you are a kind of justice for all do-gooders, bear in mind, that it’s just your insatiable ego mandating draconian measures and damoclean swordplay to justify its own sense of self importance. Bottom line: free your people, whoever they are. It’s your only hope.

Aquarius- A certain percentage of all humans will always be destined to walk the earth. Like in Kung Fu, just maintaining the justice and civility that all man-apes desire. And Einstein was a Pisces. But Galileo was an Aquarius. So was Paul Newman and Abraham ‘greatest prez ever’ Lincoln. There’s an angle somewhere there that usually eludes us. It’s something to do with the induction and emittance of emotion into what is ostensibly a closed system of logic and blind faith. You want to build something eternal and instructive? Build in the mountains. The low lying sea world will be inundated with weather and invaders of all ilk and specie. The mountains. Buddha and Tibet. Repositories of knowledge that are geographically perfect. Like Fate. Like magic. Find your mountain range and build.

Pisces- Pisces usually get the brunt of it, usually with the full force of the world and gravitational and tectonic forces beyond any rational control. But...what do you expect? You’re the oldest water sign and the transition of the zodiac into the next sign Aries, which has flame-arific issues of its own to deal with. You’re an axis-- a hinge; a gravitational limit of what is possible, even in the macro sense, down to the smallest photon or photograph/jpeg. You are an unbreakable bridge spanning decades and travesties of travails and trials. Anything the ‘verse can dish out, you can handle. You’re Psyche on steroids. Travel, and travail! Dance the macabre. Eat of the fruit of tree knowledge. But leave some breadcrumbs. The trail is long and serpentine. And your brunt is heavy, so maybe consider dropping it.

                        Dr. Pants McTurd's

         MORE Than True Horror-scopes

                      

        (not associated with horror or scopes of any ilk)

                                 

Obscure Quote of the Week: “Never attribute to malice that which can be adequately explained by stupidity, but don't rule out malice.”--Heinlein

Doc P’s Word of the Week: nictitate. Nudge, nudge—A not so subtle intimation that sexual congress is either implied or suggested.

Aries- From your chaste and pure of spirit astrolabe, I can e- and de- duce the following bullshit, which I will attribute to spirit, or destiny, or maybe free will… screw it—go the other way: deny your own autonomy. Actually, wait..you should know that you’re free to choose whatever at any time…’conscious’ decisions that will result in certain consequential actions, that may or may not be entirely ‘favorable’ in the ‘future’. But when does anything in this ridiculous multiverse have solely an up-side? Our lives are mixed bags of  joy and sorrow, fear and regret, good take-out and over cooked eat-ins, orgasms and diarrhea…and etcetera. Point is, that it benefits you, despite the inherent illogic of it, to believe that you are master and commander. Or maybe it’s the luck or wisdom to know the difference between a battle you can win and a battle you can’t but lose. Count your blessings and know thy worst enemy to be a preponderance of self doubt. 

Taurus- This week, keep your unintended mind’s eyes and ears open for the MacGuffin; or if you’re absurdly lucky—the double MacGuffin; no, not the 1979 film directed by Joe Camp, who also directed Hawmps!—a personal favorite of mine because one summer they showed on HBO pretty much daily, and it nicely took the place of playing outside. Back on track—this week’s MacGuffin won’t be a falcon, maltese or otherwise; nor will it be secret governement papers, pride or revenge, or unobtanium, nor a sled named Rosebud; and I seriously doubt it will the be a glowing briefcase. Conversely, it will also not be nothing. Your upcoming MacGuffin is definitely something—and once you discover your true driving force, everything will become illuminated.

Gemini- Before things get out of hand and you repel and shun me with accusatory shouts of ‘Traitor!’; or worse—‘Deist!’, let me re-avow my continued commitment of understanding to what is at its tiniest of levels, a Darwinian world where matter gets together and does cool stuff while in a time continuum that moves forward in an ever changing yet slightly repetitive environ. Beginning with a disclaimer is never a good start, btw, but anyhowdy, I believe the existence of the manatee is proof of a benevolent god. Right…that one—the one that doesn’t exist except as a concept that drives brainwise and forward the wheels of psychological evolution. The manatee shouldn’t exist. If the ocean had couches, that’s where all the manatees would hang out, guaranteed. I say, be the manatee. Grok and glean what you can before time moves on.

Cancer- Awesome sweaters are knit by conniving loomers, and late bloomers are always percolating and scintillating in their prosaic regalia, all effete and subdued; primarily due to the primordial nature of their reptilian brains, and the building blocks of life that are scattered in your wake. You’ve been knitting far asea for far too long. Come home to the mountain, where the water is fresh, where salt won’t shorten your life. Be a landlubber for a while…give it five minutes, we’ll rap about architecture and the growing state of unease at all the conflict and sword crossing that is so rampant before our eyes, and then we’ll down some wine and shoot some veritas, and you’ll be right as rain. Head for land—the champagne will be perfectly chilled. 

Leo- There’s a guy—he’s dead now, so whatever...who designed the world’s tallest column. Before you thank me for the pointless factoid, just wait—there’s more. It’s over 500 feet tall and has a 220 ton star on the top commemorating the Battle of San Jacinto. Yeah, it’s in frakking texas, so don’t mess with it. And someday, far in the future, should it survive, it will qualify as a temple of the ancients; who had a questionable history replete with plot holes, unfilled and untended by the socialist zombie governments that take over what’s left of texas in the year 3023. They will think us less evolved, or possibly equals in relative terms; like we think of the Anasazi peoples, also of the American southwest—which by 2023, will become a lush tropical rainforest. We might be dust in the wind, but make the most of it. Heaven likes a good story, and so does ‘god’. 

Virgo- The Giant Oarfish, also known as the King of Herring, is indeed gigantic---some weighing up to 300kg—but it’s actually not a herring at all, nor even part of the herring family. Wtf? Who made this guy king of the herring? He’s an outsider to the herring world; a rabble rouser and a pied piper of innocent fishes. It seeks to disenfranchise and leech off the very belly of what is a relatively successful species that had thus far endured millions of years on this fickle planet, even though they seem not too good at eluding carnivorous enemies that chomp their asses to bits in the name of a higher protein. Success equals sheer numbers sometimes. You gamble more, you win more. You chase more love, the more love you catch. Do the math. As one Liverpudlian put it, ‘the love you give is equal to the love you take’.

Libra- For a moment, let’s discuss the Buttered Cat Paradox. Firstly, cats always land on their feet. Secondish, toast always lands buttered side down. Ergoandsuch, if we strap buttered toast to a cat’s back and drop the cat off the bed, say—then how will it land? The right side up cat, or the buttered toast, thus negating the well documented cat righting reflex? It’s never been proven, but I believe that the cat will come within some quantum distance of the ground, defy gravity and just hover there until the cat’s attention is distracted, which usually takes a quantum. In other words, I think the paradox will, at least temporarily, suspend all physical laws and expectations. It’s the nature of paradox, when either outcome is simply impossible. I’m not saying you need to go out and tie some buttered toast to Fluffy; I’m merely predicting the arrival of the impossible—the momentary suspension of all physical laws. The freedom should prove astounding.

Scorpio- Victory through force. Peace via complacency. Desire fraught with impatience. I cannot count the ways that you sidestep and cinder block my alley ways and back streets. You are a sidewinder and a sidestepper, bound for absolution amidst the fog of your own attrition and guilt. Drop trow, I say! Your sweet bottom is made for light but firm paddling and whispered nothings that transcend wormholes and the tightest of sundries. The ultimate mystery of control is to be with someone who groks control, and  is arbitrary and malleable, like clay, or jello in a mold—all pre-determined and static—no randomness to get in the way of an unexpected windfall, or unplanned multiple orgasm. Chemical frustration at the hands of morality and social code. You only get one life.

Sagittarius- You are of the same badass ilk, as the likes of one Fritz Joubert Duquesne. Yes, yes, french names do sound funny, but seriously—Fritz managed all of this in one lifetime: soldier, prisoner of war, big game hunter, journalist, war correspondent, anglophobe, stockbroker, saboteur, adventurer and spy. His exploits are absurd. The guy in Catch Me If You Can is bullshit compared to the Jobert. But as happens often in the armchair quarterbacking of history, it’s still safe to say that he was not necessarily a good guy. He was awesome cool, but divided, like Bourne or Bond, whose willingness to kill is something to be considered gravely, whether at heaven’s gate, or at the entrance exam for the CIA. Your business, however, is not killing. You are Sagittarius, the archer; but your arrows are not weapons. They are your desire for adventure, that you shoot at seeming randomness, knowing all too well that it’s easy to strike gold---you just have to envision it, and never sop trying. Fill your quiver, Joubert, and aim with your heart.

Capricorn- Regarding Lincoln, copious volumes have been writ. Same with FDR, or JFK, and Christ!—the jesus/moses/mohammed/buddha literature is ubiquitous! Regarding someone like Alfred C. Finn—precious little, but there is some and it’s pretty neat. Regarding Harry Jones, of Toronto, Canada circa 1823, who ran a successful taxonomy business before the fur drought of 1846, much less has been writ. History is replete with untold stories that may not contain the largess of societal impacts, but are nonetheless fascinating; as well as a synecdoche to understand the macro puzzle of the multiverse, and all of its ‘extra’ dimensions. ‘Point is, I’m no fancy city lawyer, I’m just a country chicken looking for cornbread and some down home lovin’. Write your own story. Some future reader may glean some knowledge that you could ever imagine.

Aquarius- Once we grasp the tachyon, I will be able to send a message to myself in the past, and therefore I should be able to change my present—I’m pretty sure anyway, let’s discuss. The tachyon theoretically always moves faster than light, which means that they exist backwards in time. So, once we harness the tachyon and find a way to send messages, or matter for that matter, like we’re currently learning to do with light waves—which don’t violate the causality based word we live in now—I will be able to send a message to myself last week to prevent myself from eating at that taco truck parked near the animal hospital, thus saving myself from a weekend of intestinal distress. Granted, there are probably better uses for the Tachyonic Antitelephone, but that would be a good test of the equipment. Until I’m ready with the tachyons though, we’ll just have to communicate in normal spacetime. Enjoy the present, for we know not how soon it may change---hell, it could be changing right now…and now again. And also now…

Pisces- Despite past instances, no one controls your actions, and I beg you to stop doubting that; as well as taking this major step, which will seem daunting and fearsome, but that the true ilk of which is illusory and bullshit. Pisces (and Gemini) are the best at creating their own reality—you’re masters of your own fate; and perhaps thinking that makes it so; fuck all, I don’t know…what I do know could fit into a half a microchip, and most of that crap is speculative at best. Use you most inner serpentine instincts. Run naked with conviction and acceptance of your true abilities. No thing can stop you; or save you, and all that ill begotten and undeserved mantel of ‘responsibility’, laid upon  your untested shoulders before time was just, when nary enough seasons had passed-- born of fire, despite your watery nature…. Swim, swim, swim-as if your fins and blow holes depend on it. 

                                    Dr. Pants McTurd's

            MORE Than True Horror-scopes

                 

                      (not associated with horror or scopes of any ilk)

                                 

Apropos Quote of the Week: 'If I cannot deflect the will of Heaven, I shall move Hell.” –Juno, and much later, Freud.

Doc P’s Word of the Week: kerfuffle. I do despise unnecessary disorder…

Aries-  For a moment, let’s talk seriously about the awesomeness of James K Polk, 11^th President of the United States-- No. 1 awesome thing: he promised to be a one term president, and he achieved every goal he set for himself—every goal. He opened the Oregon Territory, christened the US Naval Academy, and the Smithsonian, broke ground Washington Monument, not to mention he issued the first postage stamps, and oh yeah, won the Mexican American War, giving us Texas—the merits of which I’m not here to debate. He is the least known consequential president. Wow, what a moniker. Forgotten, but mucho importante. He is your power animal for the week. Be the Polk. Get your shit done in a timely fashion, and earn your own mediocre moniker.

Taurus- In superhero movies, no one ever eats or gets hungry. No one ever takes a piss, or orders a pizza, or filets a salmon. No superhero ever has to wipe his own ass, or take a shot of whiskey to get through the next earth shaking moment. Which I guess is the point—superheroes aren’t weak—they’re super heroes, not just regular heroes---unless they fall in love. And it’s usually in the second movie in a trilogy, where the hero falls in love and wants to be just a normal guy, white picket fence and weekend bbq’s and probably a drinking habit; so, he denies his true nature, not realizing that what made him strong was the same thing that separated him from the rest of us schlubs. Peaks and valley, man...gutters and strikes…cat food and dingle berries. You’re lucky, however—you get to be super and human, and you make it look so easy.

Gemini- History is replete with pointy hats—usually worn by those in disreputably assumed authority, and by those who feel the need to tell you what to do-- by hook, crook, or happenstance. Don’t listen to them. Don’t lend them an ounce of credence. They’re charlatans and frauds, spitting calumnies and slander and libel. I’m not saying you should be overly suspicious of hat wearers at large, but the covering of the head usually means something to the wearer. From the burke to the baseball cap, head covers denote who we are to the other primates on the battlefield, or even junglewise, where so many distractions lie; and our eyes and senses attune to them—biological markers that help us navigate our environment. And their central theme is allegiance; association, and fraternity with specific forces—which may or may not align with your own. Dress carefully, and forego the hat. Reign with your head, not your accoutrement.

Cancer- To paraphrase the Great One, god does not play dice with the universe. The details of what Einstein meant is replete with riddles and misnomers. Is everything pre-determined? Or is there an element of free will in the movement even of atoms and sub atomic particles? Is our universe just one amongst several of god’s dice throws on the craps table of existence? Or is every universe a separate and distinct reality where likelihood interacts with an evolving individuality, creating untold variation on any number of themes? Personally…I believe whatever the creator might be, it would want infinite variety—infinite; which means that free will is part of the evolution of tiny strings of energy. From the very small to the very large, god’s will courses through us, but only the spirit, not any specific directive. But you should decide for yourself. Peace out. And in. And forever.

Leo- Throughout history, there have been many famous wearers of monocles. Yes, yes—the fixer of astigmatism—the monocle. However, today, monocle wearers are unfairly portrayed as evil, misguided, or uber rich. But trends always reverse themselves, and maybe someday the monocle will come back into fashion. All we need is someone not evil—someone inherently good to sport the monocle in some public way, and bring the monocle back to its previous position of societal importance. I’m not advocating that it should be you, but you are in a prime position to bring something back from the evil side and into pop culture’s spotlight. People are waiting for your move. Choose boldly. And whatever you do, don’t choose disco.

Virgo- Sexy in the Balkans does not equate to sexy in Melbourne…and definitely not Tulsa. Banana hammocks in the south are frowned upon, and who knows what they’re into down under, where the water flows backwardways—they’re probably wearing loincloths made from kangaroos and Kiwis. On a related topic, awesome sweaters are knit by conniving loomers, not fools or cadavers—they have intrinsic knowledge of know how to create life from nothing at all—alchemists of a possibly divine nature—who, if you put them in a thong just seem out of place, and awkward like an emu on a ship on a stormy sea during a storm of incalculable energy. You are about to bring sexy back, my friend---just try to keep it tasteful.

Libra-  My dreams of you are dangerously intimate, and lie ‘cross a temple of verisimilitude that I can only assume implies the true nature of our company to be bed-worthy and prone happy. In the shelter of arms, lay the mercy of two virtuous souls, who crave security and an understanding of love, and of trust and of wabi sabi with the rest of the multiverse. There exists an irregularity to the symmetry of our lives…but this is the google map—this is the logic: patterns are often inaccurate, believe them not, till thou engage the whole pattern—which is if not impossible, at least improbable. The world is indeed, not enough; not enough for the time we’ve spent kissing, or the tables we’ve shared ‘mongst wine and/or candles, maybe some artichoke dip and micro-waved chicken fingers—with dipping sauce. Wake up, it’s much too late…

Scorpio- Your quiddity is inscrutable. Your haecceity is unmistakable. And don’t get me started on your hypokeimenon. Your sub strata of whatness and why-osity strangle my objective observational capacity. I know not if ye be dark matter-- tis no matter; or some future form of plasma that defies our current understanding, but I do know there is no chalkboard or abacus that can handle your numerology. I can’t put my finger on you and I desperately want to. Your symmetry of being is radiant and effulgent, and I may have just soiled myself. Dig, excavate, plunder through ashes and reliquaries and ancient ossuaries and sepulchers: I need not dare you. You’re already there—creeping through layer upon layer to discover the roots of the tree of you. And hey, while you’re there, don’t forget to fertilize. No sense in discoveries that destroy the local environment.

Sagittarius- Contrary to popular belief, the vomitorium is not a special room for ancient roman bulimics. Granted, the romans were known for some pretty sick shit; but building a special room just for binging and purging was not in their purview. Likewise, the Whore of Babylon was not literally a prostitute or a slut. She represents either the church, or rome or both; or any conglomeration of power and arbitrary authority that sets rules and presides over our entrance to heaven. Absolute power corrupts absolutely—a common theme amongst the mathematics of human numbers. Yet, I say to thee: give no credence to the popular vote, for thou art manipulated and denigrated by the upper echelons of the pyramid of power we’ve developed. Yet, I don’t encourage insurrection, or upheaval, nor even glorious chaos—merely an acknowledgement of the total picture before you determine your fate, and make decisions that you cannot repeal or amend. Tread judiciously, and carry a quiver of clever cacophonies to cover your cough.

Capricorn- Grievous injury is usually a life changing event. A laceration here, an auto accident there—why, we’re all moments away from a Skylab falling on our heads unannounced and unwelcome. But as you well know, living with the sword of Damocles over our heads is just exhausting. It would better serve us to hold our focus in another direction. Never focus on the negative---unless you can do it objectively; like a bookie figuring the odds and making mathematically flavored choices in a continuum that technically doesn’t exist; I mean, unless it does; look, I just work here…and I’ve digressed…And what if the injury is emotional in nature?  Internal? Metaphorical, even? Use your central voice; the one that knows for sure, like in your guts, like in your jeuvos de ganas…Don’t think. Drive.

Aquarius- Sometimes I remember everything all at once. It’s like a flood, or a race. Like my neurons are having a lightning storm, and it’s all I can do to not curl up into a ball until the storm passes. I just have to find the key. The images are often fleeting like old film stock: they fritter and freeze, and I can almost piece together the missing seconds: which if you split down to infinity, never end. We can’t remember everything all the time, it just isn’t possible--one would go crazy with the details. And we are not one. We are individual—at least, I think; and one must assume that the collective unconscious is like the iCloud—information available to everyone, so long as the infrastructure remains intact. Don’t fret about every iota of detail. Think big picture, and let the details flow to the minutia minded. We are meant for larger concepts. Don’t sweat the small stuff.

Pisces- Hades has five rivers, not just the Styx (the river of hate). The other four are: Acheron (river of sorrow), Cocytus (river of lamentation), Phlegethon (river of fire), and Lethe (the river of forgetfulness). Cut to: a modern interpretation of this territorial directive: hate leads to sorrow, sorrow to lamentation, which electrochemically erupts into fire, in the hopes of transformation, and then hopefully to forgetfulness…because the living must move past the tragedy and the sorrow and the hate. And therefore we hold certain days to be sacred for remembering a forlorn forgotten past—those souls who touched us, but who are now ethereal and pure of spirit. Life is a river, like consciousness; We’re all afloat amidst rapids of undeterminable fate. You are Aeneid and Homer, moving between worlds searching for salvation, and hope. Your journey is right on track. Happy (belated) All-Souls Day.