By Jared Chausow
By Katie Toth
By Elizabeth Flock
By Albert Samaha
By Anna Merlan
By Jon Campbell
By Jon Campbell
By Albert Samaha
TAURUS (April 20May 20): "Dear Love Doctor: Please send a divine slap upside the head to the clueless guy I'm in a half-assed relationship with. He's got to wake up to the fact that it's high time to let someone, namely me, shower him with love. I mean, all the magic's in place. With just a flick of his attitude, he could materialize me whipping up gourmet Cajun cuisine in his new kitchennot to mention spicing up every other room in his house. Love Doctor, please cast a spell to get him in alignment with cosmic necessity. Overripe Taurus." Dear Overripe: I appreciate the ability you Bulls have right now to envision the best and brightest possibilities for your relationships. However, it's crucial that you give everyone the freedom to bumble along, even if it means that for now they'll be out of sync with the wonders you can imagine.
GEMINI (May 21June 20): The last few drops remaining in your chalice will soon evaporate. Your luxurious indoor swimming pool (you know, the one in your fantasies) has barely enough water left in it to give a water bug traction. And you haven't reached out your arms and cupped your hands in a gesture of feisty anticipation for far too long. So what are you going to do about it all, Gemini? Here's what I suggest: Fill 'er up! (PS: The gas tank of the flying car you sometimes take for a spin in your dreams is also on empty.)
CANCER (June 21July 22): Pay close attention to how your immediate past impacts the present. Just as the food you ate in the previous two days plays a large role in determining your physical energy today, your current mood has been shaped by the psychic environment you've been creating for yourself recently. Here's the really cool thing: You always have a choice. You can decide to fuel yourself with unhealthy food, mediocre fantasies, and petty emotions, or you can scrupulously insist on high-class, first-rate stuff that will make you feel good.
LEO (July 23Aug. 22): In his book Thumbsucker, Walter Kirn explores the tension between security and passion. We all yearn to feel safe, he says, and yet we also need to express our native wildness, which is crucial in giving us a visceral sense of being ourselves. If we put too much emphasis on being careful, we squelch our primal urge for unpredictability and lose touch with our need to play. According to my analysis of the omens, Leo, you're at the end of a phase when caution and self-preservation have made sense. Don't wait too much longer before you put your ass on the line in search of too much fun.
VIRGO (Aug. 23Sept. 22): The Delaware Water Gap National Recreation Area in Pennsylvania has an outhouse that cost $333,000 to build. It's a two-hole beauty with a roof constructed from slate mined in Vermont, porch railings built out of Indiana limestone, and an indestructible cobblestone foundation. This is your symbol of power for the coming week, Virgo. May it inspire you to devote elegant, sumptuous attention to one of your most basic needs.
LIBRA (Sept. 23Oct. 22): The film The Englishman Who Went Up the Hill but Came Down a Mountain is set in Wales in 1917. Two English cartographers arrive in a small town to evaluate whether the local peak is really high enough to be officially defined as a mountain. To the villagers' consternation, their beloved landmark is found to be less than the regulation 1,000 feeta mere hilland that prompts them to take action. With painstaking determination, they haul buckets of dirt from their gardens all the way to the top, hoping to raise it high enough to exceed the standard. This scenario is comparable to a challenge I hope you'll take on, Libra. Please do whatever's necessary to ensure your hill is actually a mountain.
SCORPIO (Oct. 23Nov. 21): You were standing in the doorway with your crooked smile as big and wild as the morning light. I was spellboundI lost all memory of who I'd been before that moment. You were as shockingly real as the perfect giant spider web stretched across my front porch when I left my house today. Did I hallucinate what you said as you murmured into your cell phone? Or did you really say, "I'm looking for someone who'll teach me how to live forever as we make love with exploding hearts"? That was too sweet and fierce to bear. So here's my loving complaint, which is also my bragging promise: I want you so much I want to be you. I adore you with such painful lucidity that I think I could learn how to find you in every bird's cry, every cloud's flow, every changing face.