Critical Mass welcomes devoted poet/avid concert-goer/nerd-grrrl extraordinaire Jane Cassady to the fold; her weekly horoscopes will run in this space every Friday morning.
(June 22-July 23): A favorite couple of mine sent out a care package not too long ago. It included a blue glitter framed hand mirror, a box of fancy chocolates, a ticket from a Cirque du Soleil "Love" performance and TWENTY-EIGHT CDs. If you send someone 28 CDs, some of them are bound to be exactly what that person needs.
(July 24-Aug. 23): Here's an inadvisable way to be happy: They say you get a serotonin boost every time you correct someone. Go ahead, my darling backseat driver use the imaginary brake on the passenger side, look back with me when I change lanes. Just don't be surprised when I ask you to parallel park on my behalf.
(Aug. 24-Sept. 23): It's weird dancing to '80s hip-hop songs at a respectful distance. I feel a little lonely if folks aren't all up in my proverbial business. Surrender to whatever it is that makes you cross boundaries. It's probably the bassline.
(Sept. 24-Oct. 21): A friend of mine once asked for my address so he could send me a mix, then liked said mix so much that he kept it, listened to it in the car and had LeTigre sing-alongs with his little daughter. I know this because he sent me a poem about the mix he didn't send. I feel like a millionaire just typing this story.
(Oct. 22-Nov. 22): Interrupt the conversation to point out the birds you see. "OOH look, a tufted titmouse!" is really fun to say. Shush your best friend so you can hear the first notes of a song: Some things are just worth it.
(Nov. 23-Dec. 22): A Sag pal who works in a preschool complains about her students not needing her enough. "They're all just privileged princes and princesses." But everyone needs care, Sagittarius. Even you.
(Dec. 23-Jan. 20): We're both writing memoirs, but yours is braver. While mine is hidden on the desktop in a folder marked "My Issues," yours is on display for all to see. So brave, Capricorn. You're winning.
(Jan. 21-Feb. 19): You told me not to worry about being too old for the club, because we're all made mostly of water, and water's really old, and the atoms that make up the water are even older than that. So sensible. I love songs about how everything's all really one thing.
(Feb. 20-March 20): "Conscientiousness is no friend of serendipity," says Psychology Today
. Kurt Vonnegut said, "I tell you, we are here on Earth to fart around, and don't let anybody tell you different." So do it: Dawdle in doorways, pick up conversations with pretty strangers, click on unnecessary links. It'll make you luckier!
(March 21-April 18): This week, my dad moved back from Iowa to live closer to his kids and grandkids. Pack up your metaphorical car this week, Aries, move closer to what you love, even if it means braving the lake-effect winters of Upstate New York.
(April 19-May 18): Nobody really goes to their high school reunion, so make a real one for yourself. Get together your '90s Club Kids and spare no glitter. There must still be a coffeehouse somewhere for Xers to slack in. Make a scrapbook of all your old mosh pits and vintage dresses. (Note: Your horoscopist knows she's dating herself.)
(May 19-June 21): I'm making you SO MANY cupcakes this week, Gemini. Not from scratch, but still. The act of scooping a can of frosting into a bowl, beating it on high to froth it up, and adding just the right amount of food coloring: that's the sprinkled alchemy we need this week. I keep forgetting and then remembering.