TAURUS (April 20-May 20): On a family member’s 60th birthday, the Japanese celebrate a holiday known as *kanreki.* It’s a time of rebirth, when the celebrant ritually becomes a baby again and enters a second childhood. Among the many gifts given on the occasion is a red kimono, which signifies that in a sense the person is now freed from the responsibilities of adulthood. I recommend that you treat yourself to a similar rite of passage, Taurus. Even though you may not be turning 60, you are at the beginning of an extraordinarily fresh new cycle. You deserve a red kimono and at least a temporary respite from adult burdens.
Category Archives: Uncategorized
Horoscope
TAURUS (April 20-May 20): Even if you’re not an artist, you’re a creator. You’re constantly hatching new plans, coming up with fresh ideas, and shifting your approach to everything you do. It’s to this part of you–the restless, inventive spirit–that I address the following: It’s a perfect time for you to cultivate increased respect and reverence for your creativity. Tap in to the dormant potential of your amazing imagination. Feel confident about your ability to generate novelty. Realize how much power you have to change anything you want to change. Here’s your inspirational motto, courtesy of sculptor Constantin Brancusi: “Create like God, command like a king, work like a slave.”
Meme, thanks to .
Reply and I’ll tell you something I like about you. Afterwards, SPREAD THE DISEASE by copying & pasting this into your own journal.
Horoscope
TAURUS (April 20-May 20): Traditional astrologers say Tauruses are rampant materialists. While it’s true that members of your sign often have a robust relationship with money, I find that many of you also have a refined and vigorous appreciation of beauty. In fact, I think an aesthetically pleasing environment is crucial for your mental and spiritual health. In the coming week, you should devote extra time and care to this need. Purge ugliness from your surroundings. Introduce elements that excite your eye and stimulate your imagination. Your symbol of power: the thousand-year-old rose bush that grows next to the wall of Germany’s Hildesheim Cathedral.
Horoscope
TAURUS (April 20-May 20): Every year of their adult lives, male Emperor penguins in Antarctica spend 60 consecutive days standing out in the frigid wastes without food as they guard and brood the eggs containing their offspring. Their ordeal reminds me a little of the story of your life lately, Taurus. You’ve been out in the cold doing your duty for a long time. But I believe you’re ready to do something akin to what the male penguins do when the babies finally hatch and the mothers return from their 60-day vacations: feast and rest, rest and feast.
Horoscope
TAURUS (April 20-May 20): Green Day recently won a Grammy for best rock album, but their future was in doubt a few years ago. The band’s three members weren’t getting along, record sales were declining, and they no longer felt aligned with the bratty punk attitude that had originally been the core of their identity. They tried a variety of experiments to shake themselves out of their funk. Their best idea was to rebel against their signature style by recording a bunch of silly songs like polka ditties and dirty Christmas carols. A similar approach would be a good prescription for you right now, Taurus. Whether you’re suffering from a mental block or emotional constipation, one possible cure is to play at being what you’re not.
[Carnival] Todd gets a gift.
The lawyer’s office smelled like orange peels, and it made Todd’s mouth water. It was sick, wanting to eat at a will-reading. He was sure that he was some kind of freakishly horrible person to be thinking about eating now.
The palaple greed around him didn’t even take his appetite away. Damn, he wanted an orange! They wanted to feed on the carrion of Uncle Ralph’s life, and he wanted a goddamn orange. His mom gave him a nasty look, so he took off his headphones. He let the rest of the room sample his Perfect Circle CD for a few seconds before he hit stop on his MP3 player. The lawyer shuffled his papers and cleared his throat.
Silence crashed over the room; Todd was sure that a mental chant of “I want” caused it. The lawyer sipped from a glass of water and began. Todd closed his eyes and tried to stop thinking about oranges. The monotone droning of the lawyer’s voice lulled him nearly to sleep. His mind drifted, and he was standing in a grove of orange trees in sunny Florida. He laughed, in his mind, and spun around.
He jumped up and snatched an orange from its branch. Todd tore off the peel and took an enormous bite out of it. The taste was perfect, and the juice filled his mouth with happiness. Here was a good place; the kind of place where Uncle Ralph had to have gone.
At that thought, thunder boomed in the distance. Clouds were gathering in an all-too-familiar spiral pattern. Something squirmed wetly in Todd’s hand, and he reflexively dropped the rotting, worm-ridden orange.
The winds began to howl through the rows of orange trees. Unreasoning terror bubbled in Todd’s heart, sending him at a dead run away from the storn. The wind blew harder and harder, pulling down rotted orange after rotted orange. A shadow blanketed everything; the spinning and churning clouds thickened and drew together. The wind was whistling fast and hard in Todd’s ears as he fled, reminding him of the eerie, haunting sounds of the calliope. Lightning crashed, thunder hammered at his ears, and the rain began to fall. Sheets of it pounded him and turned the dirt to mud. Todd slipped on the peel of an orange and slid headfirst into the Florida mud.
The storm was after him. It wanted to consume him. Somehow he knew that it had consumed Uncle Ralph, and was coming for him, now. He tried to scramble back to his feet, but the mud sucked at him, drawing him down. He struggled, sinking more and more. The storm closed in, and the earth itself kept him prisoner, holding him until he was consumed. There was a sharp pain in his side, and he was suddenly falling.
He hit the floor of the lawyer’s office with a thud and a yelp. The smell of oranges had soured. Everyone was staring at him, and his mother was giving him a death-glare. “Honestly, Todd. The least you could do is stay awake.” He blushed purple and climbed back into his seat. The lawyer cleared his throat and continued.
“To my great-nephew Todd, I leave my house, and every posession in it.” Gasps and shocked curses were whispered from all around. “In the event that I pass on before Todd turns eighteen, it shall remain in trust to him. Arrangements for upkeep of the house and yard have already been made. It is my sincerest wish that Todd explore the house fully, and do with my belongings as his heart leads him. I also ask that his parents not stand in the way of this. Todd has my trust, and will not do wrong by it.”
Horoscope
TAURUS (April 20-May 20): The mummified middle finger of Galileo’s right hand is on display at a museum in Florence, Italy. I propose that you regard it as your sacred power object in the coming week. May it inspire you to flip the bird at everyone who crosses you. APRIL FOOL! While I do think you should derive inspiration from Galileo’s middle finger, you should do so only at truly important moments. Not to express road rage, for God’s sake; not to express disdain toward loudmouths using cell phones. Please, Taurus, flip a metaphorical bird only to protest the kind of high- level idiocy Galileo had to endure when the Church persecuted him for proving that the Earth revolves around the sun.