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    LECHEROUS LIBRA...

    Go Back  The Jittery Journeys of August 2004  Go Forward
    Hooray to you, little buttocks imbeciles! Last month we left you walking away from the monastery in the hills after breaking your vow of silence and giving up the path of compassion. Thus, as awful August descends like a curse on a naughty world, spreading vile and bitter prognostications willy-nilly, we find you swearing and sniffing your ire as you trek through this perilous region. You wish by all the gods you still had your cell phone so you could ring the monastery and demand they transport you to the nearest cradle of civilization for a latte and a cinnamon bagel. Surely they owe you something after failing to attend your lecture on fashion trends in Swedish cinema!

    This swearing and sniffing comes to an end as mischievous Mercury clashes with idiot Uranus and you fall headlong down a rocky trail, rendering yourself unconscious. As you lie on the ground, looking more vacant than usual, jolly Jupiter wrestles with underworld Pluto and a gathering of good spirits attends your lifeless form. ‘Little Scales twerps! Polite but fatuous ones!’ they gently cry. ‘Stay on the path of compassion. Return to the monastery!’ And their voices are like a whistling wind as the great Sol Invicti clashes with nasty Neptune.

    Vamping Venus enters neurotic Cancer and, in this unconsciousness state, you’re troubled by visions of a world filled with poor folk who lack your kindly ministrations and lectures on Swedish cinema. How could you condemn them to this misery! But then what’s this? Great gods alive and dead, there’s fiendish work afoot as the darker side of the underworld god joins the fray! Marauding Mars enters Virgo and your solar twelfth house as mischievous Mercury turns retrograde in that sign and a gaggle of demons of the tooth-gnashing and drooling variety forms up against the kindly ones to roar and scream in your ears, devoid though they are of auditory response. ‘Live selfishly!’ they howl. ‘Serve only yourself. Do as you will is the whole of the law!’

    Visions of indulgent, drug-saturated decadence fill your unconscious being with hedonistic promise. By my little brown bottle, this is a battle between the forces of light and darkness, each one seeking (for some reason obscure to all thinking persons) the possession of your immortal soul. Angel contends with demon in the outer world. Within, the selfish, screaming child of cranky Chiron in your solar fourth house wrestles with the sober but miserable adult of Saturn in your solar tenth house. Your lifeless form is the battleground for this monumental struggle both at an inner microcosmic level and an outer macrocosmic level. It’s all so cosmic that I’ll have to double my prescription strength just to get through to the end of this piffle!

    The New Moon comes in loathsome Leo and your solar eleventh house of friends, hopes and wishes! This odious event all but pulls you asunder, torn as you are betwixt Heaven and Hell. Ghastly planets rut in the cosmic gutters as you thrash and roll in the agony and delirium of this defining choice.

    Great gods alive and dead, will the torture never end for you, little lunatics? Through the torment of a benighted world ruled by insane gods there are few thoughts that keep me going! That is one of them! Mischievous Mercury rolls back into insufferable Leo and the creative urges rooted deep in within you rise to express themselves and claim victory in this war. You begin undulating in an alarming manner. Angels and devils lie exhausted on the road, drained by their vociferous exhortations. And then, little nitwit horrors! My god, it’s almost too vile to be believed! A Full Moon comes in tear-stained Pisces and you rise from your stupor, resolved on what you must do! ‘Take neither the right hand path, nor the left hand,’ you cry aloud. ‘Nay! Take no side in the struggle but rather make a film about the agonies of indecision.’

    Great gods alive and dead, it could be the story of your life, little buttocks types! A story only you could write. And direct! And produce! As vamping Venus conjoins with miserable Saturn, you rush down the mountain path to the city so you can talk post haste with a friend of yours in the Arts Council to see if you can get the funding to make your master work. Click here next month to see if you succeed. Ta! Ta!

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