By Albert Samaha
By Steve Weinstein
By Devon Maloney
By Tessa Stuart
By Alison Flowers
By Albert Samaha
By Jesse Jarnow
By Eric Tsetsi
SAGITTARIUS (Nov. 22-Dec. 21)
To honor your forays to the frontiers of twisted earthiness, I'm offering you a horoscope built around the titles of country music songs. It's understandable, right about now, if you feel like singing "I've Enjoyed About as Much of This as I Can Stand" or "You Just Hurt My Last Feeling." Maybe it'll help if I remind you that "Sometimes You're the Windshield, Sometimes You're the Bug." In light of the uproar, I suggest you hum a few bars of "I Just Can't Go On Dying Like This" as you work up the nerve to stop accepting "Too Much of Too Little." But before you break into the celebratory "Back to Bein' Me," unleash a wailing version of "You Were Only a Splinter in My Ass as I Slid Down the Banister of Life."
CAPRICORN (Dec. 22-Jan. 19)
Did your lover leave a velvet bag full of jewels or a 10-page ode to your beauty under your pillow? If not, why not? The astrological omens say it should have happened. And another thing, Capricorn: Did you recently liberate yourself from your oldest form of volunteer slavery and welcome the arrival of a delightful future shock? Again, I hope you did, because the planetary configurations make no sense otherwise. I suppose it is possible (and forgivable) that you're a week behind schedule. But if so, get out there and start collecting your juicy just deserts immediately.
AQUARIUS (Jan. 20-Feb. 18)
I hope that in recent weeks you've perfected the art of lounging in one spot for long periods while staring blankly at the sky. I trust that you've also been channeling pages and pages of doodles from your subconscious mind, singing yourself lullabies not just at bedtime but whenever you feel unfathomable longings, and allowing lush fantasies to freely well up and interfere with your work. Assuming you have devoted yourself to these and other acts of self-renewal, I will now nudge you in the direction of the next phase of your astrological cycle: Picture yourself making love on the red leather seat of a Jaguar that's parked on the edge of a cliff overlooking a waterfall.
The Televisionary Oracle
A Novel by Rob Brezsny
A lusty but sensitive rock star encounters the leader of a goddess - worshiping religious order that values pranks as much as prayers.
Check out Rob's band World Entertainment War.
Want to know more about Rob, or look up past horoscopes? Visit freewillastrology.com.
You can contact Rob at firstname.lastname@example.org.
PISCES (Feb. 19-March 20)
A person you barely acknowledge may soon provide a hot tip. An idea you once dismissed might begin emanating the fragrance of eternal truth. And I won't be surprised if you find useful information in your junk mail or cathartic wisdom in a TV sitcom. See what I'm driving at, Pisces? You can't predict where you'll find the valuable clues you need most. More than that, to borrow from the Bible, the last shall soon be first.
What's the single most important question you have to find an answer for in the next five years? Deliver your best guess to me at email@example.com.