Horoscopes at the End of the World
It's hard to get started today worried about flakes of ash in your hair. Don't waste your energy searching for meaning. Be satisfied with whatever you accomplish, even if it's falling back to sleep.
Your mind is a shopping cart at the bottom of a lake. This week, want simply. Want to throw rocks at a wall. Want your dog back. Focus on something other than the tick of your wristwatch.
Today, you feel the world inside your shoes. The sky curling into itself like an ear.
You know as well as anyone: beauty is in all things profitless and impossible. A flame is a poor substitute for a lover, but if all else fails, go for it!
You are not dead. You may not be the body of Christ, but you are a body.
What you're feeling is normal: your pulse like a moth in a paper bag cathedral.
Your unique sense of nonsense will get you through. When you see an old man sword fighting a maple tree, or a kid with sawn-off shotgun, you will laugh and laugh for a long time. Be warned: too much laughter is scary. Whatever you do, don't scare anyone.
Doubt is part of the survival process. Skepticism is the new faith. Between you and everyone you know, auditoriums of empty chairs.
This week, go explore the new world. The more time that passes, the safer you'll feel. Somewhere nearby: a frozen lake.
Nothing seems farther away than love. Your father lost in a fog. Your lover lost in rubble. Dear Capricorn, things will get better. If you can see a moon, you can believe. If you can't, a plastic lid will do.
Your skeleton runs cold in its skin. What did you expect to feel at the end of the world? Find a new hobby. Invent an igloo. What matters is having something to do.
This week, resist the urge for system. This week accept your body, a planet orbiting around an empty room.