ARIES (March 21-April 19): The latest movie from Aries filmmaker Quentin Tarantino received mixed reviews. Commenting on Kill Bill, Roger Ebert and Richard Roeper raved, "It’s amazing. Brilliant and stylized! Tarantino is at the top of his form." On the other hand, critic Mick LaSalle opined: "If this recycled, derivative nonsense is all this once-promising director has to offer after six years, it’s sad." I predict you will provoke a similar range of reactions in the coming week, Aries. It’s best if you don’t put too much stock in both those who regard you as a genius and those who think you’re a crank. Just believe in yourself.
TAURUS (April 20-May 20): "Consumer brands are the new religion," reports The Financial Times. "People turn to them for meaning." The evidence? Instead of attending church on Sunday, many of the faithful swarm to Ikea. Countless couples exchange their marital vows at Disneyland. Bikers are buried in coffins bearing Harley-Davidson logos. Don’t tell me you’re immune, Taurus; nobody is. But I’m happy to announce that it’s a perfect astrological moment for blasphemy. Renounce your worshipful attachment to brand names that sap your spiritual juice! Just say NO to false gods!
GEMINI (May 21-June 20): I have just finished skimming Hiroyuki Nishigaki’s surprising book How to Good-Bye Depression: If You Constrict Anus 100 Times Everyday. Malarkey? or Effective Way? Though I haven’t had a chance to try out his simple approach to mental health, I recommend it to you confidently. It’s time to take drastic, unconventional measures to improve your mood. Regular butt-squeezing may accomplish what no other therapy can. As one satisfied reader testified after achieving miracles with this technique: "Free your ass and your mind will follow."
CANCER (June 21-July 22): Can you find a sensitive saint who’ll pamper you for a whole day? Someone knowledgeable about what gives you pleasure, who’ll listen with supple curiosity to you, who’ll sing you songs and read you poems? In other words, Cancerian, can you enlist the devotion of a love genius who would regard being of service to you as a holy privilege? The planets have rarely been better aligned for such a possibility. The entire universe is yearning to show its love for you.
LEO (July 23-Aug. 22): The bumblebee seems to be aerodynamically unsound. Indeed, if it were as big as an airplane, it would never get off the ground. Fortunately, it knows nothing of the laws of physics and therefore never suffers from self-doubt as it soars and darts. I suggest you make this creature your power animal in the coming weeks. You will need to accomplish small wonders that there are no theories to account for.
VIRGO (Aug. 23-Sept. 22): My reading of your astrological omens suggests that you are now standing before three doors. The word "scapegoat" is written on door number one. "Chameleon" is on door two and "weaver" on door three. What you do in the next six days will determine whether you’ll have a choice about which door you open. If you succeed in winning that privilege, I advise you to pick the "weaver" door sometime after November 22. Selecting the "chameleon" door wouldn’t be terrible, but it wouldn’t be half as stimulating.
LIBRA (Sept. 23-Oct. 22): Recently I received a letter with testimony you might find helpful. "Hello, my name is Randall Xavier Ludwick," it began. "I am an inspector for the Federal Commission on Amusement Park Safety. My job is to ensure that all ‘You Must Be This Tall To Go on This Ride’ signs are up to code. It’s the perfect job for a Libra like me. Since I can never make up my mind on my own, I decided on a career with rigid boundaries that appeals to my sense of justice." Mr. Ludwick’s approach to his indecisiveness might be worth imitating in the coming weeks, dear Libra. I suggest you put yourself in positions where you must adhere to crisply defined rules.
SCORPIO (Oct. 23-Nov. 21): You are fresh, radical, and as free as you’ve ever been. No pretty lies can trick you and no super-hyped trivia can distract you. I believe you’re ready, therefore, to commune with the axioms of healing chaos, lifted from the Whores of Goddess Scientists Web site at adtraincain.tripod.com. Here’s a sample: You are the hidden God. Wake up in the dream. Read between the lies. To question is the answer. The front line is everywhere. There are no innocent bystanders. Truth is a three-edged sword. Practice infinite tolerance except for intolerance. Achieve strength through joy. Embrace your shadow. Change is stability. Creation never ends.
SAGITTARIUS (Nov. 22-Dec. 21): Walk into the hills or woods and find a large rock in a place that makes you feel at home. Sit down on or next to that rock and let go of the emotions you’ve been holding in. Sob, sigh or babble until you achieve a spiritual orgasm that will clear your mind and free you to make the decision you’ve been postponing. Ever hereafter you will call this the Crying Rock, and you will go there whenever you need the release that only a beloved natural power spot can facilitate.
CAPRICORN (Dec. 22-Jan. 19): If a friend or companion is pregnant, buy her some lingerie. If people close to you are depressed, take them to a karaoke bar and insist that they sing in public. If you’re feeling cautious, learn to ride a motorcycle. If you’re afraid you’re running out of good ideas, start writing a booklet entitled, My Inexhaustible Supply of Good Ideas. Are you catching my drift, Capricorn? To capitalize on the opportunities fate brings this week, don’t go with the flow.
AQUARIUS (Jan. 20-Feb. 18): You may feel that you’re only truly yourself if others see you as you want to be seen, but this week I suggest you try out a different perspective. It’s hinted at by Suzan-Lori Parks in her play Topdog/Underdog: "Yr only yrself when no one’s watching." Turn off your awareness of what everyone thinks about you. Listen only to the clues arising from your silent depths.
PISCES (Feb. 19-March 20): Back when I could afford employees, one dreamed up an ad campaign for my audio horoscopes. The headline was "Rob Brezsny’s astrological advice is like Viagra for the soul!" I then got a letter from the lawyers of the manufacturers of the real Viagra. "Cease and desist using our trademarked brand name," it said, "or we will sue your ass." (I’m paraphrasing.) My campaign came to a dead stop, and I vowed never again to borrow a corporate fetish for my own marketing purposes. Carefully, then, I make the following announcement: What life brings you in the coming weeks will be like Viagra for your soul. Homework: The media love bad news because they think it’s more interesting than good news. Is it? Send your interesting good news to me at www.freewillastrology.com.