SAGITTARIUS (Nov. 22-Dec. 21) You're not prone to gestures of frivolous extravagance like your fiery cousins, usually. You're not one to buy a dozen roses daily for your lover, or write long, sappy love letters whenever you're apart. That's no critique?you and I both know your heart's in the right place. You're not buying those flowers so you can save pennies for that trip to India. And you'd rather give permission to a distant lover to fully enjoy their life apart from you than chain them with tired declarations of devotion. But since these subtle gestures can be eclipsed by the ferociously romantic images that surround us in movies and on bad tv shows, it might behoove you to go pick some wildflowers or compose a haiku of adoration once in a while.
CAPRICORN (Dec. 22-Jan. 19) You're allowed to fall in love, you know. I'm just telling you because sometimes, when you're on the verge, you just sort of fearfully hover, noncommittally. You get bashful about adoration the way some people get pee-shy in public restrooms. Luckily, the latest object of your adulation enjoys worship?it's an ideal situation for you to overcome your inhibitions about being swooningly, obnoxiously in love. I expect the average romantic temperature of your life to rise by at least a couple degrees this month, and for some days to reach highs you didn't know you could stand.
AQUARIUS (Jan. 20-Feb. 18) Don't postpone fame. Your public eagerly awaits your next great discovery, the newest lecture on your advanced philosophy or the unveiling of your greatest invention yet. What political revolution can you wreak before the next big election? What righteous brand of partying can you pioneer before the end of the millennium? In other words, we crave your particular genius, and now that Uranus has gone direct after five months of moving backwards, we (your adoring public) will take any kind of shit you'll throw at us.
PISCES (Feb. 19-March 20) There are dinosaur bones buried in my backyard. I have a bottle half full of tears shed by Jesus himself. This week we're using the last of the powdered unicorn horn, or I'd share that, too. In fact, it's all yours for the asking, "free." You might get some very unique and intriguing offers this week. Be warned: you'll end up paying us all back for this stuff before the year's through, so be careful what you ask for. Even if it's free, it still costs something. Luckily, you also have the power to make sure it's a price you'll enjoy paying.
ARIES (March 21-April 19) I hadn't been pulled over in nine years of extensive driving, until I came to Texas, when cops chose to mess with me twice in one week. "Are you pulling me over because I didn't put my turn signal on when turning in to the library parking lot?" I asked sarcastically, "Or is it because me or my car don't look the way you're used to here in Texas?" Naturally, he wrote me a ticket "for my attitude." Nevertheless, I urge you to continue your laudable and persistent questioning of authority, not because I think it will be exceptionally effective?it might even get you in more trouble than before. But you're the zodiac's designated Questioner-of-Authority. If you don't get those "in charge" used to common folk like us asking questions and speaking up, who will hold these guys accountable to the people they're supposed to serve?
TAURUS (April 20-May 20) Every Good Friday in the village of San Fernando in the Philippines, a dramatic reenactment of Christ's crucifixion takes place. Devout Catholics allow themselves to be nailed to crosses for a few hours. Ritual self-persecution may have its uses?ask Shinichiro Kaneko, who asked to be nailed up; villagers didn't find out he was a porn star until his crucifixion was released on video?but you're about done. Remove your crown of thorns, and get those aching limbs into a hot bath or the hands of a talented masseur. I've said it before, but it bears repeating: Get off the cross, baby. Someone else needs the wood.
GEMINI (May 21-June 20) Every time I see a really hideous piece of fabric?an atrocious housecoat, a horrifying fall jacket or a ridiculously untrendy pantsuit?I think about all the people involved in making it come into existence. There's the tasteless creep who designed the pattern; people who make decisions about texture and composition; those who sell it to the boss or investors; someone to commission the sweatshop in Indonesia to compile the fabric, all those employed there, and the factory where the jacket (or whatever) will actually be put together. Add in those involved in moving and distributing the product, and those who decide to buy and carry it in their stores. If you count cashiers and stockers, and the tasteless customers who bought it, you have a legion of idiots devoted to carrying this thing from idea to your eyes. The layers and complexities of everything will seem redundantly obvious to you this week, especially things you hate.
CANCER (June 21-July 22) Let's talk about learning curves. Some things, like oil painting and martial arts, have very long, slow curves. For instance, you might start your first day by punching through a sheet of paper, but you don't advance to plywood the next day, or bricks the day after that. On the other hand, you might learn to ride a bike, or multiply numbers, in a day. Happiness in your day-to-day requires learning to recognize your own learning curves. Rome wasn't built in a day, or so they say. Neither was the genius I call you.
LEO (July 23-Aug. 22) When you cast your nets this wide, you're bound to catch more fish than you need. Some weeks (like this one), you can't throw them back fast enough. You'll have wide-eyed victims of your charms flopping around in front of you, gasping for breath. You might consider converting to line fishing for a month or so, your hook is so well baited. If not, at least reduce the amount of netting you have trawling through the sea. Otherwise, you might be so busy returning rejects to the ocean that the big, juicy fish you intended to keep might slip away before you have a chance to enjoy them.
VIRGO (Aug. 22-Sept. 22) You're Popeye after ingesting a can of spinach, or the Incredible Hulk at the moment of his transformation. You're Cinderella with midnight still several hours away. You're flying high now, Virgo, capable of greater superhuman feats than usual. Eventually, though, you've got to shit out the spinach, cool down your temper (returning to puny Bruce Banner-hood). Eventually the clock must strike midnight. Now that you realize how temporary your uncanny strength, fearless invulnerability and startling beauty and charm are, you can more effectively make use of them while you have them.
LIBRA (Sept. 23-Oct. 22) Imagine yourself hiking along the lip of a seething, only barely dormant volcano. The deep crater yawns next to you, a gurgling throat of barely restrained lava threatening vomitous destruction at any time. The Hawaiians call their volcano goddess Pele. Regardless of what you call yours, she's someone you'd rather ally than enemy?trust me. It's all or nothing with this babe. Make every proper sacrifice, offering and prayer to garner the protection and aid of this temperamental bitch. Don't know what they are? Just ask. She's in just the right mood to tell you.