Loading ...Okay, so when my horoscope begins with a football analogy, thats kind of when I lose interest. Football. Ugh.
A few years ago, a high school football team in Colorado was reprimanded when officials discovered that players had soaked their uniforms with an oily cooking spray before a big game. Though there was no specific regulation against it in the rulebook, the greasy stuff made it harder for their opponents to tackle them, giving them an advantage. I’m recommending their ploy to you in the coming week, Gemini—at least metaphorically. You will benefit from being slipperier, more elusive, and difficult to pin down than usual. I’d also like to see you be extraordinarily cagey, foxy, and tricky. To help focus your mind on this assignment, buy a can of cooking spray and create an altar around it.
Oh, and I’m so not building an altar to cooking spray. Now if the advice was to play naked oil-football (but without the football), then I’d think about it.
Once again, Bas wins the rose-colored coolness award.
Buddhist teacher Thich Nhat Hanh, born under the sign of Libra, has been described by a fellow teacher as “a cross between a cloud, a snail, and a piece of heavy machinery—a true religious presence.” He translates his lofty visions into the most intimate and practical terms, even providing suggestions about how to get more spiritual inspiration out of breathing, eating, and walking. Take a similar approach in the coming weeks, Libra. Bring heaven all the way down to earth. Make the smallest details of your life reflect your highest ideals.
Bas is both spiritual and mechanical, lofty yet practical. Sounds about right.
Mojo will be stretching his boundaries.
“Most people experience ‘cubicle creativity,’” says businessman Gerald Haman. “The size of their ideas is directly proportional to the space they have in which to think.” Just in case this is true, Sagittarius, I urge you to expand the box you occupy while dreaming up solutions to problems and fantasizing about the adventures you want to embark on. It’s time to stretch the boundaries in every way you can imagine.
Well Mojo, at least you aren’t walking around town naked this week. Naked oil-football is one thing, but walking around the streets of New Jersey in the buff just doesn’t sound like the safest activity.
R the P, I didn’t even finish reading yours, so I can’t comment. Some kinda prayer-poetry something:
To get in a mood to take maximum advantage of the cosmic currents, go to tinyurl.com/25sgyx and read Dara Wier’s poem “A Modern Version of the Way the Rosary Was Once Said Throughout Western Europe in the Late Middle Ages.” What she expresses there is exactly the attitude you should cultivate. Here’s an excerpt: “I’m not sewing velvet patches on a woolen blanket, not putting silver buttons back where they belong, not sweeping or folding, not in my right mind, not knowing what I owe or to whom I should bow down or thank or praise, no neither am I storing up good deeds I’ll need when I need bailing out, nor do I wish to settle old scores, no not keeping wolves at bay, and I’m not disturbing antbeds, not in touch with fine madness, no, I’m not hiding under the kitchen table not wanting to listen anymore, nor am I staying awake in case I might miss something, no, I’m not staring forever into a fire, nor walking through a rainstorm into a cypress grove, no, and I’m not waiting for lightning to strike.
Okay, so Shelley does actually have a horoscope this week. You’ll be arming yourself against roses:
While browsing at the garden store, I saw an item that would be perfect for your current metaphorical needs: rose gloves. They’re specially designed to protect you while working with those lush but thorny flowers. They feature padded palms, reinforced fingertips, and extra-long gauntlets that safeguard your flesh up to the elbow. As you play with and care for your own metaphorical version of the paradoxical rose in the coming days, I suggest that you arm yourself with equivalent protective measures.
Which I guess is better than doing homework.
Rob’s horoscope for the week can be found here.
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Comments
This entry was posted on Monday, July 23rd, 2007 at 9:30 pm and is filed under mystical. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.
Rob is a real freak. No doubt.
I can say that Che’s was the most interesting in my book. Oily football players? I mean, he’s really stretching it. Metaphorically, that is.
At least Shelly’s is relatively straight-forward. R the P’s makes no sense at all. Bas’s makes sense and may even prove useful(!).
While Che may want to engage in oiled, naked, football-free football, I for one will not be doing that in NJ. The risk of being mugged, beaten, or just getting hepatitis is too great. Far too great.
Hi slippery Che LOL!!! Sounds like Greek wrestling! Naked slippery oily Greeks. Or was that Turkish?
When i read Richards’ this week a typical dutch ‘winged’ expression came to mind: Dat slaat als een tang op een varken. (That hits like a pair of pliers on a pig.)
That’s like it makes no sense, no, it makes no sense at all, no, it does make sense, no, not to all, no, to a very few. Yes?
A cloud, a snail and heavy piece of machinery.. that’s how we spell heaven!
Well, to quote a little more of that enigmatic Dara Wier, let’s hope we’ll ‘not [get] lost in a
camphor-reeking satchel inside a chiffarobe’
Bas, I’m loving the Dutch more and more. I am going to use that expression from now on. I just wish I had it in my verbal arsenal (he he — he said “arse”
when I worked at the job I recently quit.
Had dinner with a former co-worker from there (a good one — she was hired just after I was), and I have to say that that place is seriously fucked up. So glad I saw the back of it.
Yep, me too. I love the Dutch.
So there you are, R the P. I was wondering where you been. FF still not working? Or are you saving up your posts for the Blogathon?
Eh?
On the show Room 101 with Paul Merton, the Dutch were once put in Room 101. But not to worry. They were in good company. Leighton Buzzard, the Welsh, Cheese, cocaine, Anne Robinson and God are also in Room 101.
For those of you who never watched the show, you can read about it here.
I haven’t been getting in until very late. Last night I had a long meeting at my job. Then the big boss (The boss of all bosses) said, “You’re having dinner with us, aren’t you Richard?”
I wasn’t planning on it, but when the big boss asks you that question, you say, “Why yes I was!” I had just presented a proposal to expand not only our department, but the role we play in the entire organization, and the big boss and all the other heads of the departments said, “We love your presentation. We’ll do it!”
I like this job so much better than the last.
And tonight, as I said, I had dinner with a former co-worker in Manhattan. I just got back from that.
Latter. Litter. Kitty.
I was trying to figure out whether it was football or soccer, then all of a sudden it no longer mattered.
Oil. Spray-on oil. At least they could have done it properly and doused themselves in olive oil, or crude oil, or SOMETHING other than crisco…
Rich! Where the hell ya been? Hows things?
I vote they use crude oil. The quicker we use up those fossil fuels, the harder pressed the science bods will be to find us alternative fuels. I’m gettin’ a Hummer. Or two.
And I do believe it refers to American football, since Rob seems to be American. But you’re right - it doesn’t matter.
Wow, the famed Rich the Latter! Glad to hear from you Rich. Don’t know ya, but but your fame (or is that infamy?) precedes you.
Aha! The very person who started my “Richard the Previous” life. Before Richard the Latter, I was just plain old Richard.
Che usually says “Bahamian Rich” when referring to Richard the Latter, which, of course, makes me seem just a bit insane.
As Bas’ compatriots would say “We hate you heartely welcome!”
It’s a good thing to say. I swear.
Well, considering Richard the Latter posts about once a year, he’ll probably see these messages sometime around next Jersey Devil Day. We could call him Richard the Infrequent.
“We hate you heartely welcome!” is indeed a good thing. We aren’t sure why, but around here, its the preferred greeting.
Dunglish - the official language of the Shattered Prayer.
Time-bendingly, Richard the Latter actually commented on SP before Richard the Previous, which makes our SP existence non-linear.
I think I just fell in love with that thought.
Ah.. he’s your temporally anomalous, mind-bendingly non-linear doppelganger.
How appropriate for the SP.