Hello, darling! Greetings from the NYA!
That’s the New You in Austin. The NYA. Because we just moved out of Aries, and the start of the zodiac is as good a “new year, new you” starting point as any, but I’m not really sure what’s changed, and I’m still here in Austin, and I’m still unemployed, and I’m still broke, and boys are still dumb, so I’m not sure how “new” this “you” has been for me yet. I’m sorry I forgot to bake cardamom tea cakes and mimolette crisps to celebrate, but the estranged husband has the mixer and my new apartment has no kitchen space, besides.
I’m sorry I forgot to bake cardamom tea cakes and I’m sorry I slept in again and I’m sorry it’s already almost noon and I’m still enjoying my Breakfast Blend and cold muesli and I’m sorry I didn’t get those postcards mailed, or written, or printed, or even unboxed (they’re in a box labeled ‘craft supplies’ in the closet, I think. Or maybe they’re in the box called ‘crafts and fake dicks’. Or maybe the ominous ‘dolls, ugh.’ box). And I’m sorry I wasn’t what you wanted.
I’m sorry you didn’t choose me, and I’m sorry I wasn’t right for you, and I’m sorry you let me go.
Boys or Jobs, y’all? Am I talking about boys or jobs? Who knows! ¿Por que no los dos?
New year, new me! and it’s already Taurus Season and I sit at the horns of a dilemma and there is so much bullshit and I just want some time to lie in a field and ponder the flowers,
but instead I just lie to myself and ponder the hours. Taurus season has my earth energy all riled up. Ugh, fixed earth, though. You know what fixed earth is? It’s that mountain in the distance that you’re never going to climb. I have problems with the fixed signs. Mountains, hellmouths, wine-dark seas wherein lurk monsters, and clouds. Fixed earth, fixed fire, fixed water, fixed air. Taurus, Leo, Scorpio, Aquarius.
Taurus season is kicking up dirt and my Capricorn soul wants to dig in and get moving, but I’m stuck in the mud, my wheels spinning but getting me nowhere, and stg, if I make one more g-d- vision board or action plan or monthly itinerary I might choke. (Though, with my Chiron in Taurus, it’s more like that old Radiohead song…you do it to yourself, you do, and that’s what really hurts.)
[Side Note: When’s the last time you listened to that song? If the narrator and the ‘you’ are the same person, it’s great— it’s about all the ways we defeat our ourselves with doubt and bad choices. But if the ‘you’ is not the narrator, especially if the ‘you’ is a woman the narrator is talking to, then Thom Yorke is a HUGE douchebag. It’s totes a propos for Taurus season, not because of the duality of interpretation, but because of the stodgedness of choosing one interpretation over the other.]
But I am ‘visioneering’ it, mes amis. Time is an illusion and it is already 2021 and I am a famous writer, and my consulting firm is making millions, and Uxolo is the new Uno, and my secret Twitter account is being optioned for a stage play. I can see it all, y’all. I can visioneer it. Because fuuuuucccck, why not? 2021 is where this five year plan is headed. Just you wait.
Anyway…. here’s your horoscope for an amount of time of your choosing:
- ARIES: Hi. Call me! Let’s hang out and play card games!
- TAURUS: _______________[I honestly just can’t with you people right now.]
- GEMINI: As Winona Ryder’s character’s psychic hotline friend, Denelle, said on Reality Bites, “Honey, I didn’t have kids til I was on my third husband— all Geminis.”
- CANCER: You are the only water sign that isn’t an asshole.
- LEO: You’re going to hate this, but you’re the sign I always forget. Like, end of summer but not yet Labor Day, school is already starting, the greenbelt is already dry and cracked. IDK what you want to do with that, but yeah, sorry I haven’t called; let’s be better about keeping in touch!
- Virgo: does it drive you crazy that yours is the only name I didn’t all caps bold? You are my rising sign, and we make the sweetest music, but the impulses have to be tamed, sis. Let’s get messy.
- LIBRA: You exhaust me, because you are me. My moon is in Libra, my hidden self, my inner mind, my dream state. It is exhausting being us— luckily, there’s medication for that now. Life really doesn’t have to be that hard.
- SCORPIO: You know those more recent therapy tools, like What’s Your Love Language? and What’s Your Attachment Type? and What Are Your Rights & Obligations? … I feel like there should always be an option that just says “Scorpio: y/n?” because that’s all I need to know.
- SAGITTARIUS: How do you have the energy to be that fucking attractive all the time? Like, even when you’re a mean little imp, I still want to be around you. What the fuck? Take me, I’m yours, because dreams are made of this. Forever there’ll be a heaven within your kiss.
- CAPRICORN: Every fellow Capricorn I have ever considered a friend has called me ‘Dougie’ (with absolutely no suggestion from me that they do so). The only people who have ever called me ‘Dougie’ are my fellow Capricorns. Dolly Parton is a Capricorn. She’s such a role model. I bet she’s an asshole IRL, though. We all are.
- AQUARIUS: I was born on your cusp, so I’m like, almost inside you. “Almost inside you” is such a fitting way to deal with Aquarians. Almost, but not. How have you been, airy sister?
- PISCES: You are loved, you are beautiful, you are a majestic dolphin. Be careful you don’t get caught in the garbage, choked by the plastic rings of a six pack. You have to come up for air, silly dolphin, or you will drown.
[AND JUST SO YOU KNOW— it’s Taurus season and I didn’t make one joke about being ‘horny’ or say anything about ‘bulls’ (which is a gay category, like a bear or twink, but different) or ask any of the Taurons to impale me or ram me or talk about riding a bull or anything. So, like, I’m totally showing maturity.]