Here is next week’s horoscope for your sign. It doesn’t matter when you read it, or which sign you are, as horoscopes are all made up. What does the universe have in store for you? Let’s find out.
Aquarius: There should be a website just for bad jokes called — *wait for it* — Geddit. Geddit?!! Thank you, I’m here all week. I’m feeling enormously proud of myself. I love it when people can make so many in-jokes that from the outside it sounds like gibberish! Sarcasm is my raison d’etre. People who don’t understand sarcasm ruin everything. KEEP CALM AND WRITE YOUR OWN JOKES. I’m about to go for a walk. My thought for the day: I’ve noticed recently that a lot of my tweets, the ones that aren’t just jokes, are the start of something longer that I should be writing instead. I’ve started to think thoughts longer than tweets. Should I write stuff instead? Sorry, my brain hurts.
Pisces: How’s it going? Slow and painful. But going. A wasp stung me in the neck. My only consolation is I literally caught it in the act and it’s probably dead now. Fuck you, nature. Fuck you. Wasps are the traffic wardens of the insect world. I don’t love them as much as I love bees but I do feel sorry for them. Wasps are doomed. Wasps are genuinely screwed. As are we of course but you get the idea. What’s your stance on killing flies? All life is sacred, even insects, but you cross a line when you puke on my food. What powers do you want if it gives you superpowers? Oh, wait, that’s getting bitten by radioactive spiders. Sending you hugs regardless.
Aries: I believe strongly in awkwardness. Life is full of awkward moments. On Twitter I was added to a list called ‘people-who-care’ — I’m still laughing now. How about that awkward moment when you got so angry that you forgot what you were angry about? That awkward moment when you have to decide whether to buy new clothes for your new job even though you have no money and hate buying clothes. Or that awkward moment when you’re trying to sort out an executor of your will but realise most of the people in your life are unreliable idiots. Not happened to you yet? Too specific? Just wait.
Taurus: I’m trying Radical Honesty. Ask me ANYTHING and I’ll tell you the truth. I don’t care if you don’t ask; I’m just drunk and think it’s funny. Radical Honesty is a movement started by Brad Blanton where you basically just tell the truth all the time. It’s a bit hokey and you’d be forgiven for thinking that it’s a joke or an excuse for bad behaviour but consider the times that we live in. As George Orwell said: “In a time of deceit telling the truth is a revolutionary act.” Ok, I realise that my interpretation of Radical Honesty is more like advanced sarcasm but you should still try it.
Gemini: “The world is a hellish place, and bad writing is destroying the quality of our suffering.” It looks like you may have managed to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory. Are you sure that you’re not blonde? Apparently standing around talking is the new getting the fuck out of people’s way. I’m not sure I’m down with this new craze. Are you? I was going to go with: At leash atheists don’t stop you in the street and say: “Have you heard the good news?!” My pet hate is passive-aggressive charity street-canvassers who diss you for not caring enough to stop and talk to them. People dislike being harassed in the street; that doesn’t mean they hate puppies or children.
Cancer: I keep trying to get a movement off the ground that I like to call antisocial media. Hide all your friend’s Facebook updates from your news feed, so you can ask how they’re doing when you catch up with them in the real world. You can still follow them on their profile or speak to them in real life. Do you ever get so stressed out that you want to meet up with friends but decide it’s best if you crawl under a rock and die? Just me then. Hearing from distant friends is like being a woodlouse found under a rock. You’re pretty sure that they’ve seen you but you don’t know yet whether you’re about to get eaten or stomped on.
Leo: Do you hate everything you’ve ever written? You’re in good company. Nobody has to read your shitty first drafts — they’re compost for the great book you’ll write later. Keep going. You’re having a crisis of confidence. Use lots of vowels instead. Wait. That’s what you do when you have a crisis of consonants. Never mind. That’s an excellent pun and you know it! My biggest fear is that someone will read my notebooks, realise that I’m mad, that I can’t write for toffee, and that my first drafts are so bad I should be shot in the name of literature. Like I said, you’re in good company.
Virgo: A friend who wasn’t used to my accent once said to me: “You’re an angel. An angry, hard-to-understand angel.” Thank you for the massive (if weird) compliment. I’m just not good at accepting compliments. I’m English, a northerner, and from West Yorkshire in England. Not good at all. How do you respond when people pay you a compliment? The best thing you can do is just accept it and say thank you and move on. Don’t babble at them incoherently like I’m doing now. There’s no need to respond in kind. I just got carried away. Take it as a compliment — most people can’t get a word out of me.
Libra: When people say ‘thanks for the book review — I won’t bother reading the book now’ I feel like they missed the point. You’re supposed to read it and make up your own mind. A book review, good or bad, is just to let you know that it’ there. It’s best to read books that have stood the test of time. Cruelty has nothing to do with it. I’m obligated to write about 10–15 different book reviews but my desire to do so is zero as I’m not getting paid. I’m tempted to just get drunk and write them all in one go on Goodreads and have done with it. Then I can go do something more productive like drink tea and eat cake. Don’t let bad book reviews get you down. You wrote a book. They wrote a book review of a book they didn’t even like. It’s fair to say you’ve done more than they have!
Scorpio: Life makes way more sense when you realise that the universe is trying to kill you for shits and giggles. Or haunt your dreams at night, or probably take your soul hostage. *cue suspenseful music* Please let me know if your card arrived. Unless I didn’t send you one — in which case, never mind. Oh, admit it, you love getting cards in the post from people. You’re a hopeless romantic. I know. Ha! That’d ruin your rep in your Cynic Coven. I’ve got to say I’m disappointed. Frequently. But there’s nothing wrong with being a hopeless romantic. Apart from, you know, it being hopeless.
Sagittarius: You’re tired. You’re cold. You’re hungry. But you’re home. Now put the kettle on and have some tea. Praise the kettle! “And God saw the tea, that it was good: and God divided the tea from the coffee.” Or something like that anyway. Must. Praise. Kettle. I love tea. I’ve probably more tea in my veins than blood at this point. But it has come to my attention that sometimes you drink fruit tea. I know it exists but believe it to be evil and wrong. Fruity fruit? That’s not normal tea. I’ve no idea what that is but it doesn’t sound like tea — tea shouldn’t have fruit in it. Repent your sins!
Capricorn: Dear people in relationships, please don’t ask us for relationship advice. EVER. Lots of love, people who are single. Don’t ask me for relationship advice — I’m single. There comes a time in every relationship when you inadvertently glance at your phone mid-conversation and convey to someone you care about that they’re not as interesting as Twitter. Put this in your Writer’s Notebook: The only relationship you need to cultivate is between you and the page. Where is this relationship going? We’re not ready for a textual relationship. The muse is an organ-grinder; the writer just a typewriting monkey.