Tally ho, my surface-wiping types! Last time we left, you were in something of a quandary, my dreary little persons. You had left the valley of the fates and their weaving and had taken work in a healing sanctuary. There it was that the quandary struck with all of the paradoxical polarity of its peculiar force. Marauding Mars bounced bumptiously in your odious sign, making you feisty, dynamic and erotically charged.
On the other hand, grim Saturn lurked in the nasty confines of your solar twelfth house, bringing a dark mood of withdrawal, reserve and deeply ingrained neuroses. Thus did you spend your days on alternating current, one moment bolding barreling down the corridors, the next tearfully hiding in the shadows, wrapping yourself in the secrets and enigmas of you and your life. No doubt each of these responses will have their obvious disappointments but where will it all lead, my neurotic lovers of minutiae?
Well, we will have to consult the vile and bitter prognostications for savage September and so discover. We find you in a talkative phase as mischievous Mercury climbs aboard the private parts of the great Sol Invicti. You talk in trilling tones and walk with a spring in your step, ministering to every one in need you pass along the way. As marauding Mars clambers across the Loony South Node, you meet a quondam associate that used to service your car in days gone by. In no time at all, you're out in the sanctuary's garage, experiencing a long overdue grease and oil change. As mischievous Mercury and the great Sol Invicti then subject the private parts of Uranus, the idiot god, to a severe technical examination, you become first involved and then embroiled in discussions and meetings on the subject of how the sanctuary is run. You disagree with almost everyone one on how almost everything is done. And, as vamping Venus glides lasciviously into your own sign, there is a terse exchange on the matter of proper uniforms for the staff.
Thus, as a Full Moon in wretched Pisces brings a Lunar Eclipse to your solar seventh house, you opt to leave the sanctuary, citing irreconcilable differences, though you do ask your mechanical associate to make a parting adjustment to your big end. As marauding Mars then barrels into Libra, you decide that you should get a real job and earn some actual money as living in this eccentric manner is somewhat of an impoverishment as far as the personal coffers are concerned. You find employment at a hairdressing salon but soon resign after a row with an emotional boss over the best way to sharpen scissors. Vamping Venus gropes and grapples with Uranus, god of idiots, and you move in with an ex-lover to save money and take work as a budgetary consultant, as mischievous Mercury hobnobs with marauding Mars.
However, after a further adjustments to your big end, you decide this isn't working and so provoke a row over the correct technique for bed-making and the cooking of foreign food to justify your departure. You quit your job as a budgetary consultant as it's really dull and people are so painfully inept about organizing their money and their lives. As jolly Jupiter parts the curtains for narcotic Neptune, you go off again in search of the weird fulfillment that only comes from the eccentric pursuit of a personal star, a process described by you as 'proper' and by everyone else as lunacy. And where will it be this time, tiny turnips? What will be your destination and your fate?
By my sainted aunt, do you even know or wish to? Nay! You simply set your feet precisely to the road ahead, wandering into the unknown just as a New Moon and Solar Eclipse come in your infuriating sign.
Great palpitating palindromes! With your face to the horizon, limned by the setting sun, it's as if the universal beams of light strike you, burning away the marks of the past, eliminating the detail of everything you were and did. The very print of you begins to fade before the watching eye! A miraculous occurrence! One can only hope the process will complete itself, reducing the number on the Wheel of Animals (the Zodiac) to eleven. Sadly, this is not to be as the great Sol Invicti rolls into loathsome Libra, bringing you to the brink of a mysterious encounter and restoring something of your equilibrium. For there upon the highway do you meet an elegant individual, wearing stylish garments wrapped about their person. And, in particular, their well-shaped buttocks are garbed in comely fashion. The beautiful one shines like a god in Heaven come to earth. You look down at your own attire and find you suffer by comparison, as vamping Venus is rogered by dark Pluto, underworld god.
But what's this? Great carping couturiers and farting fashion fops! The garbed one gestures hypnotically in your direction and a pair of trousers appears on your buttocks, seeming to re-shape them with the touch and texture of the gorgeous, shimmering fabric. Gadzooks! The trim line of your rear end is most enticing.
'Wear them well!' enjoins the beautiful being and then disappears, leaving you clad in body but empty in your mind. How strange and yet how fitting! You idly reach down to the pocket to find a wad of cash therein. A dramatic improvement for your stocks and proof of the powers of this garment for the nether regions! You're wearing magic trousers, tiny wittering types! What does this mean? By all the gods, are you set for a dash in dungarees? Or a jaunt in jodhpurs! Perhaps a pelt along the path of life in pantaloons!
Click here next time and see if these magic trousers leave you panting with excitement, short of the necessaries or lost in the overall meaninglessness of things! In the meantime, ave, surface-wiping ninnies!