Odds bodkins, virginal ninnies! It is I, Asperitus, the baffling bard, the awful auspex and the prophet of piffle! I have come to foretell your future. It will be mercifully brief for all concerned. Now isn't that an enigmatic remark to set those discerning little brain cells (both of them) a-flutter!
Last time we left you in a cave, making a twig broom, hobnobbing with a wild goat, drinking herbal tea and contemplating the recently discovered Crack of Doom, which had turned out to be the death of your old life and the beginning of a new one.
Ye gods and little fishes, my surface-wiping loonies! That sounds like a case of Saturn in the solar twelfth house! Eek! A ghastly infestation in the hideous realm of drugs, addiction, failure, futility, heartache, longshoremen and psychics! The twelfth house is a thoroughly nasty place where no one in their right mind would invite the ancient master of misery and illness, wrinkly Saturn and his aching bones! Yet that's the fate the insane gods ruling this benighted universe have cast for you!
What's that I hear? Why, it's the creaking of ancient joints in the corridor of horror that is your ghastly life, my virginal twits! Let us study this grim and grinding passage in the house of hidden sorrows. Let them be vile, for they are! Let them be bitter, for they are! Let them be prognostications, for they are! Let them pertain to manic March, for they do! Well, for the remaining portion of that awful undertaking, as I'm late with the forecast!
First, a recap of events through which I have slept. The month began as grim Saturn and narcotic Neptune cavorted in an obscene and very public manner and you will have felt fatigued, disillusioned and may have overdosed on herbal remedy. As the Full Moon brought a Lunar Eclipse in your own obnoxious sign, you will have disowned your mother, lost interest in house-keeping and decided you will never find anybody suitable for a close personal relationship. The goat then cavorted in an enticingly hircine manner, just as the great Sol Invicti groped Uranus, the idiot god.
What may or may not have next transpired is unfit for discussion in polite society. However, as the mischievous messenger, Mercury moved out of perverse reverse, the two of you had a meaningful (i.e. tedious) talk on the matter of 'staying friends'. And we all know what that means! From there, let us just say that ghastly planets too tedious to name farted in nasty aspects too hideous to recount and a good time was not had by anyone, except the insane gods, and that was only because they were drunk. Thus, we have come to the present (ugh) and set our sights on a stirring analysis of future trends that will be appalling in the time honoured fashion. And, by all the gods alive and dead, the cosmos gets a rattle on as marauding Mars cranks his shaft into cranky Chiron. Thus, we find you working furiously with an expert wrist action on the twig broom as you sweep the cave, raising and then dismissing from your presence the dust of days gone by and even shaving away layers of rock formed in antediluvian eras. Suffice it to say that the cave is clean. Vamping Venus slithers lustfully into cloth-eared Taurus and you go for a brisk walk in the wild, building up muscle tone, taking in fresh air and foraging for nuts, herbs and wild weed to supplement the meagre cuisine of cave life. Now that you have cut ties with cities and civilization, you must be active and resourceful in sustaining yourself.
But what's this? Great gods alive and dead, it's mischievous Mercury returned to Pisces on the coat tails of a New Moon in that tear-stained and wretched sign. You return to the cave to find your goat is set to depart for the deep hills as the poor creature cannot bear the heartbreak of being 'just a friend'. There are some things in life that are for the best and this is clearly one of them. Relieved you are, and yet lonely and abandoned with no friend at all but a twig broom and the walls of your cave. Then does the great Sol Invicti roll and clatter into idiot Aries, visiting yet another Equinox upon an over-burdened world and opening the portals to your solar eighth house, an odious realm wherein dwell the occult horrors (shriek), demons from the id (double shriek) and shadowy beings from the demimonde such as prostitutes, embalmers and tax-collectors. Eek! Who could bear the horror!
Waves of mighty power wash over you and you fall into a cataleptic trance and dream! And in your dream you see your spirit self, stirring the cauldron of power wherein simmers a foul and viscous mix of herbs, nasty extracts from bark and roots and various other fungi and slimy things! In this dream, you make the ancient magic for you are a wild being, fierce in spirit and wise in the ways of eldritch lore! By my sainted aunt, this is your very soul you look upon, my tiny turnips! What do you think? Personally, I can take it or leave it!
Anyway, marauding Mars rams his rudest bit into the nether regions of narcotic Neptune and your dream self boils up magical life in the cauldron, a demon lover (incubus or succubus, according to preference) that will be a new companion and your sexual fulfilment. As no one on this earth can meet your standards, so you turn to magic to find your perfect match. As Uranus, the idiot god, rogers the life out of the Loony Nodes, your demon lover comes, rising from the mist of the strange brew! Eek!
What will happen now, my tiny virgin nitwits! Will you ride the wave of sweet ecstasy or will you ride the nightmare of further disappointment? Click here next time and see. In the meantime, sweet dreams!