By Sharon Isabel Curley
Capricorn: The hardest sign to write about is always yours, Capricorn. One of your kind only wants to save me, and another once tried to destroy me. I can’t crack you! Who are you, really? A do-er, one who strives for success, one whose facade is “all figured out,” and the one sign of us all who can hide their feelings best. I’ve always been intrigued by you. So pragmatic and to the point, and yet constantly trying to figure it out. You identify to me the feeling of waking up in a home with your life long lover. You make one cup of coffee. As your lover wakes, minutes later, that lover walks past you, brushing their skin against yours, at which point you wonder, “Why didn’t I make two cups of coffee?” Yet, you’re not a selfish breed, I don’t think. With the new moon in Taurus, and the shifts being made for progress, hear me out: This dude I’m into just gave me a hat that says “Capricorn” on it. I am giong to wear it, and make progress on figuring you out. Stay tuned…
Aquarius: Last month held the one year anniversary of the worst day of my life to date. I used to let what happened that day define me, but I’ve since realized that allowing such behavior is stupid. The events of this day are still so vivid, I can feel the physical pain I felt. I haven’t fully recovered, I still suffer from some pretty wild nightmares about it, and I still think about it enough to include it in this horoscope with a borderline-celebratory attitude, as I’ve referred to an anniversary. This particular thing caused me an unbearable way of life for 4 months to the date, where I lived out of my van and in other people’s houses. Those days were full of hustling for money in any way I could, not all of which were necessarily healthy. Now, I’ve got a home with a roommate who I see as a sister, a job that allows me to work with some people that really move and inspire me, a car that seems to work, and for the first time in a minute, I got money, too; and yet, I’m still wondering when my luck will get good. My pops always told me “you’re just never satisfied,” and I was always like, “whatever fuck you, Dad.” Now, as it goes, I realize he was right. Ya gotta figure out where you are, and then get satisfied OR don’t and keep the dream alive. Me? Oh, I’m sticking to the dream…
Pisces: The joys of having my bros visit were accompanied by memories of the purest kind. The three of us have tried to encourage or teach each other, with love and support, how to succeed in love. We’ve all failed. Jesse once made me a mix with a song by The Incredible String Band called, “The Hedgehog’s Song”. It’s lyrics seem truer now than ever, “Sitting one day by myself / And I’m thinking, “What could be wrong?” / When this funny little Hedgehog comes running up to me /And it starts up to sing me this song. / “Oh, you know all the words, and you sung all the notes / But you never quite learned the song”, she sang / “I can tell by the sadness in your eyes /That you never quite learned the song.” I tend to sway toward love being a gift I give, and I forget I should also be receiving it. Like the hedgehog sings, I know all the words, and I’ve sung all the notes, but I’ve never quite learned the song. Pisces, I suggest you learn the song before it’s too late. Don’t end up like me, feeling like I know the song. Because I don’t, and I am starting to forget the words and the notes.
Aries: Have you ever stood in front of a mirror for so long that you start to feel weird? Staring into your reflection and your own eyes, maybe jazzing up the deal with also saying your own name over and over? It’s like there’s some scary problem you’re about to face. That’s the problem with figuring out problems: once you decide to, you have to admit a problem. Yet what if it there was a beautiful origin? Like a waterfall dripping into a river on which you could float along? Me? I’d float along the riverbanks of overgrown green grass and trees. I’d see a centaur, and I’d stop to look at him. We’d stare into each other’s eyes until finally we’d read each other’s minds. I’d know he’d want me to hop on his back so he could take me to a place in the forest that he loved. When we got there, I would gracefully lower myself to the ground and sleep, while the centaur protected me from the mysteries beyond the trees. When I’d wake, my reflection would now be in the rippling water of the river. An escape, I guess? Lesson learned? Don’t tune out, man, tune in. Do you even know if the water in your shower tastes like the water in your kitchen sink? You could be drinking toilet water, dog. Aries, relace your shoes today. Put your shirt on backwards. Skip to the beat. Take a risk.
Taurus: I once saw my hands in a dream. I remember there were two men trying to decide if the waters below were too shallow for them to jump from as high as they were, perched like little street birds atop a tall tree in a hurricane. They were scared, but I was calm. I was sleeping. I was dreaming of these men. I was dreaming of these men facing their fears, when suddenly i realized I was there with them. I looked then at my hands, which were gripping so tightly the edge of a rock, while my feet dangled. I’ve heard that if you die in your dream, you die in real life. I also heard that gum stays in your stomach for 7 years, black pepper never digests, and that god is real. Lucid as I was, dreaming, I let go; and as I fell, the waters rose. As I hit the water and fell in its depths, I wanted to take a deep breath, and let go once again. Instead, I opened my eyes and there I was. Laying in bed, alive. People always recommend taking a deep breath. I still wonder why I chose otherwise. Taurus, you see, the past is the past, the future isn’t yours yet, and you’ve just got this one moment now among all the other moments. I guess the theory is to live it as best you can.
Gemini: I wrote a story once about a stuffed bird. It was a play on some dude’s hard on. I recently remembered it, in noticing I haven’t stuffed a bird in some time. I thought maybe I am not trying, but I am trying. I realize there are many ways to stuff a bird: synthetic fiber batting, cotton, straw, batting of the eyelashes, tight clothes, bootie shorts, etc. I don’t want to have to try, because I want it to feel natural. I guess I’m trying to just wing it, but if I could wing anything it would be my arms, and I’d fly away. Why not just lay together, weightless and free, like two unstuffed birds being carried away by the breeze? It’s a feeling of comfort, like resting on a cloud. You feel me? You’ve gotta have something to stuff that bird with, or you’re just going to be floating around deflated. Decide what it is you want. If you trust it, you can get it.
Cancer: A playful little birdie met a playful little man, and the playful little man said, “I only do what I can.” Then the playful little birdie flew up above the trees, to show the playful man everything she sees. The playful little man suddenly couldn’t understand, why he wiped tears from his eyes with his playful little hand. And as the playful little birdie soared across the skies, the playful little man began to realize his little lies. The playful little birdie flew back through the trees, while the playful little man dropped to his knees. The playful little birdie perched on the man’s shoulder, as she said to him, “you’re only getting older.” Memories flashed in his once playful mind, and he regretted the things he’d left behind. A love once lost, lines that he crossed, he began to defrost and to feel exhaust. The playful little birdie, having done her deed, left the man alone to do what he needs. Cancer, take heed my friend, it’s time to make amends. Seek all the pain and all the love and learn from the birdie and soar above.
Leo: What if I’m in a grocery store, and I’m suddenly overwhelmed by a particular feeling, and my body shuts itself down? There I am in the produce section laying on the floor, but not bothering anyone, and with no one bothering me. Perhaps if a small child were to pass me by, he’d think it strange, but he isn’t fully formed enough to understand life’s weary desperations. It’s unfortunate, his idea of me, this measly little shit. He’ll remember me: fishnet tights covering the weakened knees of a woman whose age he will never know, lying on the floor of the damn grocery store. He won’t even wonder why or remember me at all. I’ll remember him for being the only human contact I had, and I’ll love him for looking into my eyes. All of the other women in the grocery store just in full agreement that someone had to do it. Hasn’t every woman, at some point or another, given herself too fully to something else? To really be able to just give up sometimes.. flying quickly past the moans of hysteria, and landing right on the floor of your local produce section. It’s beautiful in its sincerity, but in the same way I don’t know what more to write, because I’d never know how to retrieve myself from this reality. So instead, I’m a ditty, and I carry on just like you, Leo.
Virgo: In June of 1924, Franz Kafka breathed his last breath. He was just one year over the hill, not recognized for his work at all. In my high school years, I read his novella, “The Metamorphosis.” It really affected me. My depression was only beginning back then, and I could already connect to the roach he described as the protagonist, Gregor Samsa’s reality. Man, if I thought I connected to Samsa then, you should see me now. In the end of the story, Gregor seemed to still have hope in helping his family. Instead of doing so, he died. I see this as one of my truest beliefs, “hope is a farce.” It’s really nothing but a dream. Hope brings us out of reality and into some potential good feeling, but we have no idea if it will ever come. I used to be hopeful, but the grind and disappointment have proved more relevant, as they usually defeat hope. The Virgo is, at best, a thinker. Now is not the time to sway from that. A challenge will arise for you soon, and you need to get through it realistically. Hope will get you nowhere.
Libra: On February 4th, 1980, a local legend was born. The legend was the second child to be born in the family. There was a snowstorm. Father went outside to dig out the car and get it warmed up. Much to his dismay, the car did not start. He banged on the door of the next door neighbors, who agreed to drive everyone to the hospital. A frazzled trip, which ended in the Mother giving birth to her ever dreamed of daughter – who became her only daughter, even – is not remembered correctly. The Father says the daughter was born “around 6am.” The Mother swears it was “around 8am,” neither being specific, anyway. Hello to all you people out there in radioland, it’s me, your local legend! You wonder why my horoscopes are all whacked out? Well, because my Libra mother doesn’t remember when she gave birth to me. So, my skewed reality becomes yours, too. My Libra mom tried to renew her passport a few years ago, and also didn’t realize her birth name. She’d been called a name which is not the saint name she was baptized with her entire life. Get it together, Libra. Try nourishing yourself before everyone else, for once.
Scorpio: Once, I couldn’t remember if dragons are real or not. I asked my friend who said, “It depends on what you consider real.” So, since our human conscious is incredibly aware of the Dragon and can picture it, draw it, and even fear it; if you’ve ever held a toy dragon in your hands, then a dragon is real. Does a day drag on? A feeling? Isn’t that a real drag on? Sometimes I want to take a drag of someone else’s smoke and that’s real. It does appear, however, in each of these situations, that the dragon seems to be some representation of a monster. Loch Ness, Bigfoot, my last boyfriend, I mean you name it – these monsters drag on and haunt us. Case in point, yes, the dragon is real. The fantastical fire breathing, scaled wing having, cat eye seeing, flying ability having, serpent like, legendary creature, mentioned first to me as a conscious one in the Iliad, is as real as the idea that life is good. So take it as you will, but don’t let the thought drag on too long.
Sagittarius: Perhaps a meat eater’s ode to vegetarians could be “Love is like an undercooked steak: It seems scary, but it sure is delicious.” There sits the meat eater, dripping blood from her mouth like a vampire; smiling and comparing it to love. Well, you know what meat eaters get? E-Coli. And you know what vegetarians get? Broccoli. I know that vegetarians can also suffer from E-Coli, so maybe a vegetarian’s ode to a meat eater would be: “Love is like the bloody diarrhea symptom part of E-Coli: it seems scary and painful, because it is.” Maybe it’s all relative and I just write you from the heart of a jaded idealist. You need to choose the healthier door, Sag. You could be healthy in your body and not your mind, or vice versa, but if you reel it all in, I hear it’s pretty incredible.
Sharon Isabel Curley is a passionate creator of all things. As an artist, she enjoys painting, drawing, sewing, creating and styling costumes, and writing (fiction, non-fiction, astrology, and poetry). She wrote and believes that “kinship is the only ship to sail into affinity.” If you ever meet her, she will love you.