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 Asperitus Casting Runes... |
Fie upon you, frightful fishy types! Is there no end to your thirst for suffering? Apparently not! Well, at least you're in the right place for your appointed task! And where is that 'right place' you tremulously enquire? Why, it's the benighted universe, ruled by insane gods! The very realm in which you dwell!
How fortunate or otherwise, as the case may be! There you stand, poised upon the brink of yet another dose of the vile and bitter prognostications, this time for joyless July. And here too is the doctor, poised on the brink! Asperitus the awful! Ready to deliver the measured dose and just a little more! For good measure! We left you with a golden pencil and mobility returning to your digital extremities though the rest of you was still immobilized in an apartment without egress. All of this had come about due to something or other that happened in the Heavens. I cannot remember what and nor do I wish to! You're always getting into peculiar scrapes, making a wretched mess of things. Thus, one cosmic event is much like another as far as you're concerned, as you're bound to make the worst of it whatever it is. Let's see how you manage with the current lot! Marauding Mars is the first cab off the rank as he assails the private parts of narcotic Neptune in an unseemly and improper manner. Thus do you waggle your pencil, determined to draw a great artwork that will liberate you from the thrall of nasty childhood memories! However, as mischievous Mercury moves into perverse reverse in lackwit Leo, you cannot manage even basic manipulation. Rather than a work of art, you paint a coffee table, the canisters and the cat in gold, as well as some of the more private areas of your person it would be best not to name. If you're wondering what these are, the letter 'c' may be a clue. Oh all right! It's your calves and coccyx, if you must know! As vamping Venus gropes Uranus, the idiot god, you're seized by a frenzy of artistic inspiration. Jolly Jupiter launches his crapulous bulk forward and you see yourself as part of an artistic tradition extending back to Cro-Magnon cave art, even though you don't actually know who Cro-Magnon was but believe he must have been a really great artist, living in a cave like a hermit. That's a thing artists do, isn't it! What do you think? You'd actually like to live in a cave, if you could find one with central heating and a hot bath. Hmm! I think I'm wandering off the subject. Terminal boredom and creeping ennui often lead me on the tortuous path of distraction! Ah well! Back to the tortuous distraction of your tear-stained wretched lives! Odds bodkins! Gadzooks! Eek! And other quaint expressions to indicate surprise and alarm. It's ghastly planets, farting in nasty aspect. Mischievous Mercury slithers backward into slimy Cancer and you gain some freedom of movement in your feet so you paint your toenails gold. A Full Moon glares from the ghastly sign of the Goat and you decide to draw the Last Supper on your kneecaps. In gold! Vamping Venus flashes her rude bits as dark Pluto, underworld god, leers insanely and you draw lewd golden designs on your buttocks, in the hope of making you faintly attractive to the opposite sex when you're 'falling down' drunk (you do tend to fall face down). As the goddess of cavalier concupiscence gropes the Loony Nodes and slithers into neurotic Cancer, your awakening powers of movement turn the entire apartment into a living mural of the golden kind as you wave your golden pencil about like a magic wand. And what's this? By my sainted aunt! As mischievous Mercury slips a quick one into the nether regions of dark Pluto, it's as if everything you've drawn comes to life. Egad! Marauding Mars barrels into anal Virgo and golden figures step out of the lines drawn by your very own and golden pencil. They surround you and caress you, this choir of angelic beings, Some even indicate a desire for sexual congress. How heavenly! They trill songs sung in your praise and that of your wondrous talent. And, as the great Sol Invicti rolls drunkenly into lackwit Leo, bringing a New Moon in that same odious sign, you no longer live in a sealed apartment but rather in a paradise of golden beings. What matter if you have no friend or visitor for company? You have the golden ones gathered about you, saying all the things you've always longed to hear from those that love only you! Ah sigh! Were I not about to be violently ill, I should find this sensitive and moving! Ah well! Mischievous Mercury moves forward again and you wonder briefly if the solitude has driven you insane. It's possible. What do you think? As I'm now suffering from terminal ennui and hysterical boredom, I shall retire into seclusion with a silver tube and a little brown bottle as my only solace. Should you care to discover if you're certifiably insane or if you're having a religious experience, kindly click here next time and I shall tell you, given that I'm suitably recovered. In the meantime, ave, my tragic fishy types! |
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