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 Asperitus Casting Runes... |
Hola, fishy nuisances! Gather your scattered wits! No, that will take too long! Instead, just attend me and try to make the best of things, even if you can't understand a word I say. You see! Lately, you've been having trouble with Uranus. That's the idiot god, by the way! He's in your sign and will be for the foreseeable future, if you have one, that is. Given the way Uranus works, there are no guarantees, you know!
Anyway, that's why you've been going through these dramatic changes and extraordinary reversals. Because of Uranus! Every time you get something, you don't want it or it doesn't want you. Every time you long for something, you get the opposite of what you long for, only to discover that even that is not what you thought. Every time you start something, it turns out to be a reversal of what you hoped for or imagined. Though, given a tendency to hope or imagine every possible outcome in the known and unknown universes (all of them benighted, by the way), it's no wonder you're behaving like the snivelling wretch you are reputed to be. Perhaps that's the heart of it! It's reputation, is it not! You're living out your reputation as a tragic figure. Yet, the more tragic fact may be that few reputations are merited or truthful. Take the Philistines! A cultured people of the ancient world whose skills in music, the arts, seamanship and ceramics distinguished them among their fellows. Yet they fell to warring with another ancient folk and are now remembered solely as an epithet for all that is rude, boorish and crass. Still, all things considered, such arguments are hardly relevant in your case, as your reputation is entirely deserved. Perhaps your tragedy is bound up with the idea that you don't know what to do anymore because you cannot determine how things will turn out (even though you never could). And all because of Uranus! Many moons ago, you were an enlightened teacher of the headstand who then became a buccaneer. But, as a buccaneer, you had a vision at Lourdes and became the Dolphin of France. Then you passed from being a Dolphin into being a time lord and the ruler of the world. However, this resulted in demonic possession that saw you become a prophesying prostitute. Now, it seems you're barely anything at all, as you're incapacitated by pain and deserted by the demon. However, a shimmering lovely one is on the scene, urging you to discover angels. By all the gods alive and dead, where will that lead? Even I don't know and I write this bloody piffle! You see what I mean about Uranus! Oh gods! I had better stop wittering on and prognosticate on the tragedy of your existence with the faint but fast fading hope that something may come of it. Let it be said that nothing does at first. As ghastly planets fart in the cosmic winds, ushering in a New Moon in lackwit Leo, you sit, bemoaning your fate, lying to yourself about how you're wronged by all the world and going nowhere at a rate of knots. HMS Fishface is foundering, shipping water and, no doubt, discharging vast quantities of the salty aqueous as well. You put your trust in demons but they used you, leaving you bereft, little fish-faces. But then the creature that enjoined you to seek angels has buggered off as well. As jolly Jupiter gropes the private parts of the loony South Node, shadows seem reach out from the dark of some mysterious past life, seeking to engulf you. You shriek with fear, shrinking from their clammy touch. But as the perverse reverse messenger grapples with marauding Mars, persons simply step over you as you lie in the prone position (how familiar), crying for aid and lost in the gutters of a life you neither recognize nor understand. None will bring you succour! It all sounds so tragic! Though vamping Venus slithers into decadent Libra and mischievous Mercury now moves forward once again, you do not hear these faint promises of release for the Full Moon in lunatic Aquarius has generated a crisis of piscine proportion (a crisis indeed, let it be said). You wail and witter unrestrained! As marauding Mars, the psychotic war god, ruts in the gutters of Heaven with mischievous Mercury and narcotic Neptune, a living dark seems to bear down upon you like the chariot of Hades. But what's this? Egad! It's the great Sol Invicti, moved to anal Virgo and wrestling with Uranus, the idiot god. A shining figure appears out of nowhere, grips you in strong arms (shining, of course) and spirits you away. Well, my dear little fishes! Either the angels at last have come or you've gone completely round the bend. Click here next time and discover which. Until then! Ta! Ta! | ||||
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