Hoboscopes

HOBOSCOPES

GEMINI

Did you check the expiration date on that, Gemini? I mean, milk usually lasts a week or so. Yogurt can go for two or three. Butter should be alright for a couple months. But passports don’t expire for 10 years. And my membership in the Alf fan club, as I understand it, is valid for the entirety of my natural life. How long do you need this to last, Gemini? If you’re afraid you waited too long, don’t worry. Milk is still easy to find. Whatever you need, there’s a next step to take. Today you just need to check the date.

CANCER

Help! Somebody told me that radishes were easy to grow, so I planted a whole lot of radishes. The problem is, somebody was right! Now I have more radishes than my meager desire for radishes can appropriately facilitate. Do you want any? This reminds me, Cancer, that when people say “you reap what you sow,” I always take it very metaphysically. Like, obviously you reap what you sow on the spiritual plane, but who could have seen this radish thing coming? Sow kindness this week, Cancer, especially if you find a big bag of radishes on your doorstep.

LEO

It’s still light out, Leo. There’s still time to get one more thing done. What’s harder lately, is to stop. To wind-down before the sun does. To put it all away until tomorrow. This is a good night for it. It’s not too hot and it’s not raining yet. Put all that work away and step outside for a few minutes. When you step back inside, all the work is already put away. Like magic, Leo. And you did it yourself. Take the rest of the night off.

VIRGO

You want to make a burrito, Virgo? Don’t worry. In this recipe I won’t be wasting your time with stories about the light in autumn and my grandmother’s homegrown-fig jam (though it was wonderful). I’ll just stick to the ingredients. Get some tortillas, some cheese, a can of black beans, and a scoop of cumin (tomatoes if you’re fancy). Mix the cumin into the beans. Think about how cumin beans are special. They’re all so unique. If one falls on the floor while you’re mixing, pick it up, rinse it off, and put it back in the bowl. Every cumin bean is valuable. Every cumin bean deserves to be loved. Think about your own inherent worthiness, Virgo. What makes you feel cared for? Heat, wrap and enjoy.

LIBRA

We find our hero, once again, in the parking lot of the gym, scrolling on their phone, seemingly unable to open the car door and go inside. We know for a fact, Libra, that the car door is not too heavy and the content on the phone is not particularly interesting. So what keeps our hero so transfixed and immobilized? If I were there, in the car with this particular heroic individual, Libra, I might say it’s a great time to pivot. Drive to the lake and go for a lazy swim til sunset. Walk slowly on the trail behind the Walgreens. Go home and read political philosophy. There are more options than the two presenting themselves in this parking lot. Turn the key.

SCORPIO

I don’t know the names of the weeds in my garden, Scorpio. I think of them as “the viney one” and “the leafy one” and “the spindly flowery one” and “the tall tough one.” I pull them out to make room for my radishes, but they always come back. I wonder what they call me? I guess someday all of this will end, Scorpio. There will be no more weeds and no more radishes and no more me and no more names. And could it be that I would be better off knowing something about these little adversaries, if only so I can properly greet them before the digging and pulling start again? Whose name don’t you know, Scorpio? Who could you ask?

SAGITTARIUS

Are you still reading, Sagittarius? Sorry, that was an automated response that generates when you don’t interact with the text for too long. I get it, though. Sometimes I’m watching something or reading or in a conversation and I feel that layer of smog descend down and envelope my brain and I realize I have no idea how long it’s been since I knew what anybody was talking about. And sometimes there’s value to pushing through, Sagittarius, to shaking yourself back to attention and powering forward. But this seems like a circumstance where you might just walk away. Put it down and find something to do that engages your body and mind. Or just take a nap. And while you’re…hey, wait, Sagittarius, I wasn’t finished. I didn’t mean you should…ah, nevermind. I think you got it worked out.

CAPRICORN

I used to only write horoscopes in those long yellow legal pads. I liked them because they were different from the chart-paper from amateur-astrology school and not like the star-journal my aunt got me for graduation. I didn’t feel like there were rules I had to stick with. I didn’t have to be too careful so I could sit at the edge of the water and write all afternoon. I could just write half a page and call it done or go all the way to the bottom. And there was lots of margin space for doodling. What brings out your best, Capricorn? When you start making something and don’t stop till you’re finished, what were your tools? Were they the same as your tools today? Could they be?

AQUARIUS

The baby birds are getting bigger and they’re so awkward now. They seem fullsized, and they can fly pretty good, but they haven’t learned to look for food yet. Like, they flutter down with their parent-bird to get the bagel crumbs off my porch. The crumbs are right there, but they don’t know how to bend over and pick them up, so parent-bird is picking up crumbs one at a time and feeding them to these grown-up-looking babies. You might run into somebody who needs a little more help than you think they ought to, Aquarius. And you might think it seems silly. But remember when you needed help. And remember who fed you. It may not be your problem to fix. But it’s always OK to lend a beak.

PISCES

Due to a recent administrative change in the zodiac, we’re asking all Pisces to reapply for astrological services by visiting our main office one mile beneath The Quito Observatory in Ecuador and filling out form PISC988. If you’re unable to visit the office in person during normal business hours (Tuesday through Thursday, 8 p.m. to midnight.), you can register remotely by picking a star in the sky that you like and whispering to it “Hey. Remember me? I’m a Pisces.” Sometimes the simpler option is better, Pisces. Maybe you’ve already done enough.

ARIES

What was your locker combination in high school, Aries? What was your second class of the morning? What was that kid’s name who was never in school because his dad bought a cabin by a ski resort but his dad was a doctor so they’d go skiing and he’d get a doctor’s note that said he was sick? I can’t remember any of that anymore, Aries, but it all seemed really important back then. I wonder what we’re dealing with this week that won’t even be a memory in the future. (Wait, it was Nick! That kid was named Nick. He always had brand-name Lunchables for breakfast.)

TAURUS

You might be on mute, Taurus. Try hitting the button in the corner of the screen. Everybody on this call is telling you to be yourself. I’ve even said it a few times. But it’s trickier than everybody makes it sound. Because if you’re going to go out and be yourself, first you have to know yourself. And who is that, anyway? While you’re trying to sort that out, Taurus, you might hear some voices from your past who tell you that you’re subpar or difficult or wrong. And why would you want to be that self? See if you can put those on mute. See if there’s a quieter voice inside you that knows you better than that. Toggle the Bluetooth on and off.