Astrology Fulla Rompolicious Stoopid For A Planet Packin’ Big Time Frickin’ Crap
Shape Up. Shake Down. Smoochie All Frickin' Over
The Menu. The Womenu. The Bayou. The Transmu.
OK, HEADS UP — HERE ARE MY 2017 HOROSCOPE PREDICTIONS
She rocked out on hope an' death.
Spent evrythin' she earned.
But now, the time has turned.
An' 17 got the breath.
Gonna kissya sweet, gonna loveya,
O unfoldin' shibboleth.
Coupla things really piss me about generic annual predictions — beyond even the simple facta how they are jus’ so stoopid.
First, it sumtimes happens that alla the good stuff drops early, leavin’ the final months to howl the Universe down as they spasm an’ burn in the cosmic firesa sum terrifyin’ oblivion.
Fine — but FFS, you gotta have a positive spin on the deal or fate’s seemin’ inevitability jus’ feels like oppression.
Second, nuthin’ ever turns out quite the way ya thought it, even ifya are a fiction writer.
So, you gonna read on with me here, you gotta be packin’ your pincha salt, K?
Cos even my colossal powersa foresight, intooition an’ imaginin’ gonna struggle to summarise what Mother Cosmosis got in store for evryone playin’ in the show this year (even if I throw on sum star-spangled wizzo cape an’ wave The Wanda Trooth).
…as I flail in the darkness alongsideya, thinkin’ ’bout en masse 2017 horoscope predictions, I would wanna fix on three important elementsa the forthcomin’ planetary swingeroo.
Partly, this is cos there are three important things actually gowin’ on, partly it is cos fixin’ on jus’ two things would be real stingy an’ gowin’ with four would be overkill, but mostly it is cos three makes for a workable narrative device. Trust me.
We Are As One With Your Reasoning, O Princess —
Now Please Dish Up Your Predictive Salad, Preferably Garnished With Mayo
Main story you got gowin’ down in 2017 is Uranus 4 Neptoon.
(Actschly, ‘story’ is the wrong word here — prolly we should thinka sum combinationa ‘Greek epic’, ‘soap opera’ an’ ‘170 year-long ambient playlist’.)
An’ it is not a ♥-packed story in the truly smoochie sense, cos these guys’re kinda headin’ for a break.
Pan-generational verve they kissed up close on back in 1993 is hittin’ a bad patch, an’ you gotta wonder what they were thinkin’ anyhow.
Tellya, I blame frickin’ Capricorn.
That is how alla this got started.
Back in the 90s, I figure Neptoon slooshed into sum swanky bar to find Uranus bzoinkin’ round the place all loopsy doopsum, an’ insteada gowin’ too crazy on the instant passion, they took it slow an’ fixed up a plan between ‘em.
An’ like most Capricornian plans, it nailed the long game firmly in its sights an’ hardwired misery into the deal — along with infinite variations on the themea teasin’ success outta failure c/o interpretive moanin’ an’ cussin’.
Cut to the prezzo momo, with alla us rollin’ along all Noo Millennial an’ Post Truth, an’ Uranus has raced ahead into Aries while Neptoon languishes beautydeep exalto in Pisces.
So the two planets got different ideas right now from what they had on their first date, different viewsa what steps they gonna take to rock it out between ‘em.
Insteada rollin’ in unison round Capricorn’s curvaceous crucible, now you got starta spectrum Aries meets enda spectrum Pisces in a volatilica / serenityola face-off grudge match kinda aggro scenario.
An’ this is gonna last all year — steady, steady, steady, punch, punch, punch.
A poola eternal water wishin’ jus’ for stillness as she dreamsa what is gonna flow from the dance while violent transformation’s shockin’ avatar powers up on incendiary flame.
So, yeah, this is kinda a break — Capricornian thinkin’ from way back, playin’ out as duress.
An’ like all things Capricornian in origin, there is no escape.
What starts gonna frickin’ finish, no matter how long it takes, no matter how many heelsya snap ascendin’ the craggy mountaina travail.
You jus’ gotta wait here all patient, drill down on the grind, an’ trust to diligent invention whose ultimate purpose is mebbe hidden fromya — from alla us — right now.
So, uhm — you okay with that part?
Yes. I Think I Understand.
What You Mean Is … We’re All Fucked.
Like I said, I am jus’ drama queenin’ up the heavens for the benefita narrative.
But now we fixed the essential plot, it is timeta drop summa the faster movin’ planets into the story.
Forget the Moon, cos she is kinda hour by hour.
An’ Mercury gonna tell his own story, kinda make it up as he goes along.
Big three are Venus, Mars an’ JoopiterSaturn.
Kinda always are.
Gonna tellya why that last linkup features as a conjoined pairo later, but for now, let’s all plunge in to 2017’s potential bounties, Venus first.
Do We Jump — Or Is There A Waterslide?
To be honest, I had in mind a kinda catapult, coupla hundred yards from the splashdown zone, operated by an ogre with real bad anger issues.
But hey — whatever.
Thing is, as mostly usual, Venus is touchin’ base with alla us at sum point this year as she shimmers her delicious spin from Aquarius to Capricorn — so you all gotta expect sum reference inya forthcomin’ monthly horoscopes to dippin’ your tinglydanglies in the watersa amour at sum point (unless you are Aquarius or Capricorn, cos you guys get jus’ a few mingy days starta the year an’ enda the year respectively, an’ you mebbe wanna fill out this complaint form.)
Starta January, Venus heads straight over to Neptoon for sum heart to heart, so dreamy waters gonna fill up with love — I guess like whenya gotya fullnessa flesho immersed in waters kissed by a deliciously smello bath bomb.
That is so sweet.
An’ I know this cos I found a baby teat in the street a while back, kinda sucks onta my big toe while I am reclinin’ aqua-style like sum weirdo helmet prolly a gnome might wear to protect herself from fallin’ stalagtites.
I was gonna invest in a setta noo teats, mail order, an’ make myself a kinda ten-strong gnomey toe array — give ‘em all names an’ characters an’ stuff, kinda icin’ on the I Am Readin’ In A Bathtub Fulla Delisho Scento cake — but I figured regular baby teats ain’t gonna stick too good on my weeniest pinkies.
Plus also, ‘baby size’ is the smallest the manufacturersa teats make (prolly so babies do not choke real easy or complain they sucked out alla the syrup after like a minute), so I kinda abandoned that initiative.
Oh, but I am jus’ softenin’ you up for the nasty part here.
See, cos things’re gonna get tricky when Venus getsta spin on into Aries an’ explain herself, an’ Uranus gonna keep her on the backfoot till enda March.
I figure that is not gonna be no civil kinda conversation, an’ bless her, she gonna run back to Neptoon for a while, prolly for a weepie.
Lotta emotional disruption gowin’ down prior to Spring, tellya.
So watch out.
April, Venus an’ Neptoon gonna scrub alla the red rings offa the bathtub while simultaneously wipin’ tears from the red rings around one another’s eyes.
(Btw, I am figurin’ on a raspberry bath bomb here cos it mebbe works better for the analogy than banana. Anyone with yellow rings round their eyes prolly got imminent fuckin’ liver failure. Do not even get me started on what yellow rings in a bathtub signify. Jus’ gotta remember how it is an accepted health/etiquette trip to avoid peein’ in a bath or basin, K? I figure Virgos got this burned into their brains from birth, but whenya are super’ bustin’, the restaya can always find sum excuse, sumhow.)
Thing is, however cranky Uranus felt about that first date with Neptoon, he is gonna be real pissed about its retrograde echo, an’ I would wanna fix on May as the bearera this year’s top unpleasantness — an’ that is kinda sad.
First bloomsa pre-Summer should never haveta wilt before no Cosmic Bummer.
So ifya make it outta cerebrally ballistic May in one piece, scent inya nostrils an’ petals featherin’ out onya flesh in a kinda floral jumpsuit affair, things gonna brighten up sum as the Uranus-Neptoon story settles down an’ Venus figures on sum chillout timea her own in Taurus.
Tellya, Summer comes, you gotta peel offya yoga gear, getcha strawbos out in the heat an’ soak up alla the yummy.
Am I Allowed Bonus Cocktails?
FFS — are you kiddin’?
Fill a frickin’ bucket while the gowin’ is good!
Cos now we done the speedo planets, we gotta figure JoopiterSaturn.
Tellya, I got real mixed views about this one.
Is Sagittarian optimism spinnin’ Saturn round on a giddier orbit? Or is Saturn’s eternal grind snuffin’ flame from Sajjo’s beacons?
Ifya wanna celestial twist on the Glass Half Empty or Glass Half Full? conundrum, prolly this combo is the one.
Thing is, what is the answer?
Saturn always gonna say half empty, an’ tryta getya to swap out the glass for a paper cup twice the size so you really gotta work at your hopin’.
An’ do not even bother askin’ frickin’ Joopiter cos he is assholin’ around in indecisive Libra all frickin’ year.
But all is not lost cosya gotta figure that these humongoes ultimately gonna tip sum kinda balance one way or the other, cos Libra an’ Sagittarius got more gowin’ on together than they ain’t (an’ you can find out more in my handy Astro Guides in the Merch section, soon as it appears), an’ a harmonious Joopiter swingin’ it with mebbe an inspired Saturn gotta be better right now than havin’ onea ‘em hangin’ out in Aries, the other in sumthin’ disruptive like Aquarius or Gemini, while sum stoopid noo planet gatecrashes the show from beyond Plooto on a hot conjuncto ticket, claimin’ to represent a nightmarish 13th signa the zodiac called Terminal Brainfuck.
So, yeah, the expansive / consolidatory yin an’ yanga the JoopiterSaturn phenomenon is prolly beneficial right now, throwin’ communitarian positivity on the rack to toughen it up sum — an’ even when the current alliance runs its course at the starta October, an’ Joopiter drops its Libran lute in favora more Scorpionic tunes (like, I dunno, piano strings plucked at deada night with a frickin’ dagger), gotta figure the water here is gonna seep into Neptoon’s Cosmic bathtub an’ move evryone more in the directiona gnome teat hats for pinkies than becomin’ drugs mules jus’ to make a few bucks.
Toldya I would explain the significancea JoopiterSaturn.
That’s A Huge Gap In My Astro Knowledge Stuffed Full Of Wisdom, TVM
I knew it.
But, uh oh — we forgot Mars.
Figured I had alla my narrative structure worked out, but yanno how it is with Mars — center stage is all the rage until there is sumthin’ else gowin’ on.
Then alla the verve an’ energy switches vista.
Sagittarius, Capricorn an’ Aquarius don’t get no Martian look-in this year, an’ I guess that is sumthin’ you guys gotta figure as a subplot as you are tryin’ to fire up your collective mojos.
Don’t be no limp sloths is all I’m sayin’.
Thing is, Mars starts out tailin’ Venus through alla the signs.
So mebbe that bathtub arrangement I mentioned gonna be more … energetic.
Mebbe Uranus, roarin’ with promiscuous flame, gonna plunge into Neptoon’s waters for sum real steamy action straight offa January’s mark.
An’ that early year weepie — oh, man, it is gonna be like the last ever romp with an ex.
First parta the year is mebbe the real story — Venus an’ Mars gettin’ real close up in visionary Pisces.
Tellya, I am gettin’ more excited by what is gonna go down in that frickin’ bathtub by the moment.
To hell with the lousy bath bomb!
We gonna have honey in there, soft on flesh, warm on nose an’ tongue, dribblin’ out over the rim!
An’ I would want sum loud music playin’ — longer groove with a regular beat, cos I figure those guys are gonna need it.
(Yeah, I know we got Uranus/Neptoon narratives runnin’ alongside Venus an’ Mars on a roll, but I don’t wantya to get too carried away by the implied imagry here. Technically, this is a four-in-a-bathtub-fulla-honey romp, with onea the key balls on fire, but we gotta stay focused cos this is only Jan/Feb, an’ I wouldn’t want September to be any kinda anticlimax when Mercury loads the whole show up with the worst kinda dirty talk — especially after that ferociously delicious Leo phase in August when the wholea the lid gets blown offa the planet’s sexual sparky.)
Gonna stop there, cos this is turnin’ into sum kinda porno.
Shame. But I Will Bear In Mind That Summer Is Worth Looking Forward To.
Is There Anything Else?
Yeah, jus’one more important thing.
An’ I guess it is the single most important thingya gotta consider, especially whenya are dealin’ with sum frickin’ stoopid generic annual prediction likeya got here.
Catch-all blankets, one size fits evryone, is mleh beyond mleh imho, but as your resident ditz-brained astrologer, I am dooty bound to vomit up sum kinda offerin’lest my mantlea “visionary” be stolen from me by idle vagabonds.
World leaders an’ celebrities take this kinda shit to heart an’ prolly summa ‘em need a little guidance right now, particularly Matt Damon, who I figure is gonna be offered The Martian II an’ must turn it down if he’s at all serious about his career.
That kinda stuff.
Anyways, the important thing…
You gotta remember always how not a single particlea anythin’— alla the way upta Saturn to alla the way downta tippa oneaya eyelashes — has yet swung out into 2017’s emergence-hungry blendo.
(I am writin’ this on December 30th btw.)
Planetary movements’re certain, but hoomans got way more fluidity, way more sparky an’ smoochie in their interactional locker.
An’ however the script may seemta wish us to read it, hoomans got dominion over deus ex machina (an’ occasionally, summa the matchin’ costooms).
Which kinda means pullin’ together alla your strandsa life narrative an’ fixin’ yourself up for the next chapter.
(An’ ifya wanna go check your January scopes here, I got sum stuff about whatya might wanna deus outta your ex when 2017 drops its meat, raw an’ virgin, onya the wobbliest extremities inya sensorium.)
Outta each of its days, 2017 gonna flingya choices.
In truth, that is what keepsya alive.
Most times, you gonna be OK, sumtimes, you gonna goof out — but at no time is the script ever truly so cooked up in advance thatya got zero room for maneuver.
Like evry other architecta fluid beauty, Mother Cosmosis built a whole buncha slack into her magnum opus.
AN’ YOU GUYS ARE IT.
* Blush *
So, thereya go, you divine celestial slacker: 2017 in a nutshell.
Gonna pick up speed on alla this, month by month, but for now, gotta down tools an’ prepareta party.
Enda year always brings a death to time’s family, an’ like alla the years before her, 2016 has the grace an’ selfless compassionta offer us all party hats an’ fireworks while she awaits her executioner.
Did her dance on time’s eternal stage play out like we all thought?
Only you can answer that question truthfully, O sweet observera wonders.
So asya ready yourselfta move out (or on or up or through), stoopid mask inya hand, eyes an’ ears primed for Eiffel Tower vs Sydney Opera House vs Sumwhere In The Yookay They All Hearda An’ Love But The Resta Us Are Kinda WTF — an’ pack in sum quiet reflection in 2016’s final hours, K?
Be diligent an’ stilligent — an’ mebbe 2017 gonna be brilliant.
Those are my thoughts right now — such as I can summon generic 2017 horoscope predictions.
Meantime, prezzo momo Horoscopes are HERE.
blood to ink
ink to page
page to heart
heart to voice