Vulcan, you're not. The language of logic is as foreign to you as Sanskrit. Oh, I've seen what you like to call logic: rationalizations of your most extreme emotions, thinly disguised with a veneer of factuality. You confound the Spocks of the world. Don't fear their harsh holier-than-thou-ness, though. Let them shake their heads in embarrassed condemnation of your slightly random actions. Just keep on being the frank and beautifully sensitive, absurdly human being that you are, even if it means you're ridiculously illogical. It's passion that makes the world spin, and this week you have the power to prove it.
Leo (July 23-Aug. 22)
I got an e-mail from someone who sarcastically thanked me for creating an "hilarious piece of self-obsessive unintentional parody." Ouch. Yes, I'm an egomaniac. Most of us Leos are. We sometimes make surreal assumptions about how interested in our little lives other people might be. And they occasionally call us on it?like this week. But don't let their critiques crush you. The joke may be at your expense, but you can laugh along with the rest. It's called grace. Save the nose-thumbing for later. Then, you can revel in the fact that you have your dream job (like me), the sexiest boyfriend or a perfect figure, without inflaming the sensitivities (as much) of those unfortunates who compensate for their lacks by kicking other people in their tender spots.
Virgo (Aug. 23-Sept. 22)
The homeless guy with eyeballs like a roadmap, whose dreaded beard resembles uprooted horseradish, accosts you with his need. What's the answer to this complex dilemma? You have change to spare, but not for everyone who needs it. Why help this man and not that child? How to choose? One answer, "I can't help everyone, so I won't help anyone," is as unhealthy as the one you usually devise: "I'll try to help everyone at whatever cost." This week's impasse is that convolutedly difficult. Do your best to find the happy purgatory between the extremes and set up camp. We'll meet you there.
Libra (Sept. 23-Oct. 22)
According to the pseudo-cult of psychotherapy called Re-evaluation Co-counseling, there are several physical forms of emotional expression, including crying, laughing, shaking, yawning and sweating, all of which are referred to as "discharging." I'm convinced there are dozens more. For instance, this week you might let your feelings flow through dancing, thumb-wrestling, fucking or kicking ass. Seeing as how the majority of your current problems spring directly from bottled passions, all I can say is: Discharge, baby?get it out, in whatever form it comes.
Scorpio (Oct. 23-Nov. 21)
The cat's in heat. The toms are making the rounds, serenading my windows lustfully. The stench of feline piss wafts through my neighborhood as the randy critters extol their virtues, or at least their presence, by spraying everywhere. Whenever I forget that all of nature is about sex and the whole world turns on a fuck, a hearty (and odoriferous) reminder comes right to my doorstep to remind me. You of all people should never need a memo on this subject, yet here we are: weeks misspent hashing and rehashing decisions you made long ago. Enough already. Get out of your brain with some head-clearing sex. Catch a late spring fever, and join all the birds, dogs and teenagers who are already hard at play.
Sagittarius (Nov. 22-Dec. 21)
Peter SingeR, professor of bioethics at Princeton University's Center for Human Values, created a stir when reviewing a reissue of the book Dearest Pet: On Bestiality, for Nerve magazine. He raised a plethora of issues challenging the puritanical leanings of Western culture, pointing out that if we find it morally acceptable to kill animals, why not screw them? Where do issues of consent come in when we decide to eat a chicken or a sheep? This has nothing to do with your week, except in one way: your problem lies not in the dilemma itself; but in your approach to it. Applying an outdated, kneejerk attitude won't help. What's more, when you put things in perspective, the absurdity of your original response will be exposed for exactly what it is.
Capricorn (Dec. 22-Jan. 19)
My roommates are self-described "soulmates" who bicker constantly. Anyone less codependent would've broken up long before now. Living in the cacophony of their fighting?replete with screaming, threats, loud sobbing and melodramatic pleas that would be more at home in a Mexican soap opera than in my house?was grueling. Navigating the maze their rotting "antique" furniture made of my apartment made me irritated; enduring their drama just made me evil. Naturally, the enlightened thing to do is focus on the humor of the situation, but sometimes mere humans like you and me end up doing rotten things, like writing about it in a horoscope column. I urge you to laugh at your plight, but if you end up being slightly evil, don't hate yourself too much for it. Do what you need to do and move on.
Aquarius (Jan. 20-Feb. 18)
Ancient Greek and Roman towns and arenas were often named after the gods of their day. So it's only fitting that the names of the new gods?hugely powerful multinational corporations?should brand zoos, stadia and hospitals everywhere, often replacing the graceful and honorable names (usually of civic heroes, coaches, home teams or cities) that went before, like Meadowlands, Candlestick, RFK. Much of the poetry of our lives is being bought out from under us. Resist it. When a new god declares itself this week, demanding worship and sacrifice, don't only deny it sustenance, do what you can to strike it down.
Pisces (Feb. 19-March 20)
Pisces Denis Whitaker, one of Canada's most decorated war heroes, died a couple of weeks ago. During a campaign to liberate the Dutch town of Woensdrecht in 1944, he shot the lock off the town hall's sturdy oak door and took it to fortify his own base of operations. Three decades later, he returned to apologize, and was greeted by a very forgiving crowd and gifted with a silver model of the town hall. It's no excuse to not atone for your sins right away, but if you've got some questionable karma hanging over your head, Denis' story demonstrates that it's never too late to make amends. Clean up one of your past messes, finally.
Aries (March 21-April 19)
The neon glow of the palm reader's sign kept her awake at night. So she installed velvet drapes and started wearing black makeup to hide the bags under her eyes. Oh my goth. Okay, this is an extreme, slightly far-fetched example, but my point is still relevant: We're often shaped by the places we inhabit, especially over time. That's why I'm concerned about some of the unhealthy joints I've seen you frequenting lately. Not that you should start being a studiously regular churchgoer (God forbid), but make sure the places where you're spending the most time (including your home) are right in line with the person you want to be.
Taurus (April 20-May 20)
One of your best qualities is that even when your brain is only spinning its synapses at 33 rpm instead of its usual 45, you persist. A given activity might take half again as long to complete as it usually does, but you're undaunted. It's when you're revved up to 78 that you really freak out. Your stubborn determination is admirable, but what would impress all of us is you demonstrating some flexibility; that is, when things go into overdrive, you find the wherewithal to join them there.
Gemini (May 21-June 20)
Whenever I think I have my finger in the groove, the record skips. Perhaps I was pressing too hard, or my nail scratched up the thin veneer of my coolness. I don't care; I know I'm a dork. You know better than I how to stay cool, but even so you have your occasional slip-up, when some forgotten vestige of junior high awkwardness makes its appearance, to your dismay. It doesn't matter that your gaffes are minor, especially compared to most everybody else's; you really are cool. This week, keep the eggshell cracks in your poise from blowing the whole thing wide open. As long as you keep your steps cautious and your touch light (brain-surgeon level), you should be fine.
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