This Week's Horoscope

Pisces (Feb. 19-March 20)

The medical establishment seems hell-bent on making us into conforming, stable, chemically dependent automatons. Every week I see yet another prescription drug ridiculously marketed to us on network television. If they were slightly more new-age-oriented, they'd tailor medications to individual astrological signs, designed to cure Pisces of flaky dreaminess, Aries of impetuousness, Cancers of moodiness and so on. Rebel against this and any other force attempting to flatten the corrugations of life. You're supposed to have ups and downs, dammit. And you'll be glad for them this week (since they're mostly ups).

Aries (March 21-April 19)

I guess I expect modern art to be shocking, titillating or provocative, not so boringly experimental it's completely inaccessible. That's why I was disappointed by my visit to the modern art museum last month. I felt incredibly numbed by hours of shuffling around galleries of cliched "art," until Paul McCarthy's exhibit (now open in Soho in New York) stirred my dozing brain. I thoroughly enjoyed its comically disturbing and twisted esthetic. You may not relish being shocked awake as much as I do, but swallow your immediate rage long enough to notice what you've woken up to. You might like it, a lot, and the means used to rouse you might seem less objectionable, even justified.

Taurus (April 20-May 20)

Feel tired, washed-out, a little dull? Get laid! Nearly everyone looks better after a proper lay: all vibrant, flushed, tousled and excited. You're bound to appear slightly more alluring than before. Woo-hoo. I mean, who cares: You just got laid! Better than that: Everyone looks at the world more tolerantly after a big O. Seems less harsh. Stop scowling and letting your cynicism color the day gray. This week, give yourself (or have someone give you) the gift of toe-curling pleasure as often as necessary to keep you smiling.

Gemini (May 21-June 20)

Last week, I got "hate" e-mail. The unsigned correspondence was so rife with logical inconsistencies and horrific grammar that my critic's complaints were laughable and hardly deserved actual response. Yet I sent a (signed) reply because I was concerned my antagonist was placing too much weight on what s/he read here. Look for new ideas, chuckles or a kick in the butt from your horoscope column. A paragraph a week can't decide your life path or save your soul. Your best bet this week is to assume (as I did) that everyone spewing advice in your direction (including me) is a total idiot, while keeping in mind that some of the wisest things ever said came from the mouths of babes and fools.

Cancer (June 21-July 22)

The only thing that could make you feel greasier is bathing in a tub of Vaseline. It'd take hours of scalding water and industrial-strength soap to wash the last bits of residue from your nooks and crannies. But it'd be a perfect outward manifestation of that bogged-down, slimy feeling that sometimes comes over you. Stuck in a slump of not-so-fresh emotions? Try a whole body douche in a scouringly hot shower. Can't take the enervating heat? An icy shower will work just as well. Not willing to suffer either extreme, even to break yourself out of a silly emotional trap? Go sit in a tub of lukewarm petroleum jelly and stew, you slick thing.

Leo (July 23-Aug. 22)

In college, I wasn't ready to receive the wisdom (?) of my writing professors. If authorship were snowboarding, their lessons would consist of Advanced Tricks and Jumps. I could barely get off the lift without falling down. Now, finishing my second decade of loving to write, I'm finally as ready as you are to receive the wisdom we both respectively rejected earlier in our lives. The goal this week: find the teacher willing to share it.

Virgo (Aug. 23-Sept. 22)

They were probably just drunken idiots. But when folks got violent on cops last month during Mardi Gras celebrations in Seattle, they only added to the city's reputation as a place where people are willing to express their anger at the establishment, and where scared protectors of the status quo are resorting to fiercer measures in order to put them down. Last year's World Trade Organization protests and the subsequent use of violence by the authorities helped Seattle earn a reputation as a politically volatile city, instead of just "the place where it rains a lot." Take your cue from the activists in Seattle (and not so much the drunken revelers). Even if you have to face rubber bullets and tear gas to speak your piece, do so?especially because the consequences are almost guaranteed to be less harsh.

Libra (Sept. 23-Oct. 22)

Venus (your lovely ruling planet) is ambling backwards across the sky, beseeching you and everyone with an alluring come-hither look while she enjoys her hard-to-get game. It might be okay for you to play the delicious prey that's virtually uncatchable. But since it seems that some of you are trying your hardest to get caught and eaten (and who can blame you, when your hunters are so damn sexy?), it'll require a little surreptitious action on your part. Self-promote. Sonny and Cher did it, supposedly: they'd call radio stations using different voices and request "I Got You, Babe," and claim credit for making it a hit. Do your best to inflate the value of your personal stock, and you'll have more buyers than sellers, at least for now. Then your only task will be: make good on their investments.

Scorpio (Oct. 23-Nov. 21)

Aw, you can take it, you tough thing. A little ribbing and bruising is only like flint to your steely sting; sparks are liable to fly. Can't you see criticism as the strength-honing influence it is? Never mind. I stand among the vast majority of folk who secretly admire (and even worship) your volatile power?but who are scared to say so, for fear of risking your scorn or getting a prick from your sharp tongue because you think we're patronizing you. We're not. Take everything at face value this week, especially the compliments. You rock.

Sagittarius (Nov. 22-Dec. 21)

How does anyone cram five dates, two business appointments, a reunion with an old friend, three hours of long-distance phone calls and a drop-in visit from the parents into two and a half days? I have no fucking clue. Be sure to let me know, though, after this weekend, which should be packed so full of activity you ought to spend the days before and after respectively preparing and recovering. I know: you and I both wish feasts like these could be spread out over time instead of clustering like this, with long breaks of inactivity in between. But stop belaboring this basic unfairness of life. You've got a feast to enjoy.

Capricorn (Dec. 22-Jan. 19)

I have no qualms about manipulating you, Puppetmaster. You're the expert at getting people to do what you want?often believing it's their own idea. For all I know, my attempted stratagems regarding you are exactly what you intended when you plotted my next move. Thus, I've given up on the idea of subtlety. I know you can see right through me and anyone who attempts any kind of ruse, so I opt for the up-front, completely frank approach. Ironically, since the person you're trying to outmaneuver is easily your equal, you'd benefit from the same approach. When trying to get what you want this week, try this novel approach: ask for it, straight up.

Aquarius (Jan. 20-Feb. 18)

Aquarians are in love with freedom as much as Leos are with romance and Virgos with order. Somehow, ironically, they often end up more intimately entangled than most Lions and live more structured lives than any Virgo. Why is that? Is it the law of contrasts (without darkness there can be no light)? I think so. Without some clingy, demanding relationship to strain against, or the strictures of an exacting, systematized lifestyle, you'd never be able to recognize, let alone appreciate, the exciting moments of freedom you actually live for. Keep that in mind when you fly out of the cage this week: this is one of those moments. When it's over, you'll finally understand why the place you're most inclined to return to is the trap you just escaped from.