Horoscopes for a Dangerous Eclipse Season
A bunch of charming con men have bull horns in Leo, and they're telling us the best and worst things about ourselves.
Wherefore Art Thou So Ominous, Moons?
In the very scientific category of Lunation Vibe Intensity™, our full moon in Aquarius, 2026, with its Lynchian undertones and cult-leader magnetism, wins the year, if not the decade. In preparation for our upcoming eclipse season, I pottered about the garden the day of said Moon, placing crystals in the bald spots between my lemon balm and sage as they begged for the sweet death of a sickle in this sweaty armpit of late July.
Oh, July; the month that begins like a breezy beach picnic and ends like a bear hug from your moist, drunk uncle. Even on the lush Pacific coast, rain is scarce enough by mid summer that grass turns the color of baked banana and walking on it with bare feet will send you to the ER.
This is how I ended up outside, doing the same wan patrol that several of my neighbors were doing that week; stalking between garden beds, glaring at the sky, praying for rain, then sighing, then eyeballing the crispiest annuals to prepare them for the business end of my shears. Death comes to us all, dear lemon balm. I’ll write your last words on the herb jar.
It’s getting difficult to avoid certain conclusions in this foul year of your lord 2026, and there are only so many doom forecasts one can imbibe before one becomes convinced the end is nigh; the question on all of our minds is, the end of what? Democracy? Capitalism? A habitable planet? Prestige television? Every forecast ends in doom, every bit of astrology adds a new sentence to the eulogy I am eternally delivering. Pluto continues to give me notes, despite continued confusion about who or what died, as well as the manner and time of death, but we’re drilling down to those answers this summer, aren’t we? Yessiree, drilling like a bunch of oil executives who know they’re hastening mankind’s fiery end and cope by doubling down on the carnage. Increasingly, it looks like us, our civilization, stupidity, and soon enough are the answers to the questions these forecasts are asking, if we listen closely to the mourners. The smoking Douglas Firs, the wet bulb nights unlit by fire flies, the rail thin coyotes darting down freeways, the desperate flapping of poisoned moths. They whisper in the velvety, insomniac dark as a breeze rushes through my window from the ocean and I wonder how much longer I’ll be able to enjoy such a thing.
Stars are not ideal for eulogies; too cold, clinical, and distant, like galactic diamonds. No one expects celestial objects light years apart from Earth to feel their pain; Venus will not mourn my lemon balm. We need warm-blooded people for that, or perhaps ancient archetypes so people-like that they can reach our humanity even as we attempt to kill it.
The hooded figures of tarot, for instance, were made for mourning, nestled as they are in a gilded pack of cards that comprise a pictorial obituary; The Fool was born, he experienced life within all four elements, and he dies with the wisdom of The World on his shoulders. He is for snuffing out candles, for the guest book on tasteful cream cloth, for the ornate lamp over a table stand of prayer cards. Illuminated like saints, the major arcana of the oldest known deck represented human foibles in a parlor game, establishing a foundational pettiness to tarot that better suits matters of the dead. Yes, the dead are petty. Just ask Mitch McConnell.
Our Lord of Perpetual Embalming is involving himself with all the major aspects of late; lurking over the Moon’s shoulder, lending strength to Uranus and Mars, and greasing the wheels for Saturn and Neptune in a sweet sextile. The death scent of our psychic atmosphere is wafting up from the man downstairs, whom modern tarot readers associate with the major arcana Judgement, often a depiction of literal death, decomposition, and resurrection.
It’s not like certain astrology isn’t mournful; in the last few years alone, plenty of it has come soaked in grief alongside concurrent events on Earth. They are too numerous to cite them all, but the eclipse attack in Israel on October 7th, 2023 and the Saturn/Neptune conjunction that coincided with an unprovoked U.S. attack on Iran in February of 2026 are two that have produced, and will keep producing corpses for the glorified mortician of the sky to judge. Cartomancy, though, has more interpretive wiggle room, which can add complexity to our delineations; when astrology tells us of the sameness shared by Aquarian moons across eons, tarot cards can tell us how they differ. Every planet has a card correspondence, as does every sign and every ten degree chunk within each sign, so we can build a divinatory sentence based on important variations. We can uncover the character of the deceased and tailor the eulogy to the needs of the mourners.
The unofficial kick-off of eclipse season, our recent full moon in Aquarius, was flavored by intense opposition; the sun and Jupiter formed a conjunction in Leo and opposed dear Luna while she loosely joined Pluto. It remains important, because whatever lamentations we were wailing around July 29th will come back to us throughout August, and we’ll hear their echoes throughout the next six months. Part of us will die, another part will be judged, and yet another will be birthed slowly, under Hades’ resigned eye. Look for the dark priest in a pack of cards, waiting quietly by the guestbook.
7.29.26: Full Moon at 6 Aquarius, Five of Wands v.s. Five of Swords
There was quite a bit of hype leading into this full moon - the seas will boil! Pluto will kill your Dad and turn you into a werewolf! - yet, as has been the case for much of the ‘hot’ astrology this summer, Luna’s manifestations hit quieter, sneakier, and later than anticipated. (Many of my clients felt the effects 3 to 4 days after occultation.) That’s the thing about Aquarius we really ought to remember; it is a house of Saturn, and everything in it can take a long time to fruit. Old Wrinkly Rings is patient, ornery, and like your least favorite Boomer, he thinks you should suffer as long as he did to be rewarded. You see, in Saturn’s day, he had to wait months for lunar consequences to play out. Years, even. And he waited in 10 feet of galactic ice while the Moon ignored him, you spoiled ingrate.
One way to translate the cartomantic archetypes of this lunation from the astronomic placements can be done by adding up 1. the card correspondences of the planets involved and 2. the correspondences of the signs and degree on which they land. As a quick refresher:
Team Leo at Six Degrees=Strength, Five of Wands
The Sun=The Sun (Team Leo)
Jupiter=Wheel of Fortune (Team Leo)
Team Aquarius at Six Degrees = The Star, Five of Swords
The Moon=The High Priestess (Team Aquarius)
Pluto=Judgement (Team Aquarius)
Due to the oppositional nature of a full moon, eclipse season kicked off with a staring contest between Team Leo and Team Aquarius, or Team Strength versus Team Star. The tarot spread would look like this:
TEAM LEO: The Sun (ideals and leadership) + The Wheel of Fortune (cycles of luck) + Strength (how we inspire others) + Five of Wands (chaos and disagreement)
*VERSUS/OBSTRUCTING/FIGHTING
TEAM AQUARIUS: The High Priestess (physical realm and hidden knowledge) + Judgement (painful reckonings) + The Star (cerebral illumination) + Five of Swords(defeat and resentment)
Fives in both numerology and minor arcana represent conflict and defeat, and that’s exactly where the luminaries opposed each other on July 29th. Five of Wands is less gun fight and more bad-game-of-Twister, though, in the sense that the conflict depicted may yet resolve positively. This gives Team Leo a leg up, which is good news for solar figures. Five of Swords is a much darker, depressing card, and it depicts the mental anguish of a lost cause instead of the physical passion of combat illustrated in most Five of Wands cards. The battle is over by the time we get to the Five of Swords, and everybody lost.
So, on one side of the sky we’ve got leaders and big, lucky personalities spreading dogma through conflict, and on the other side we’ve got the fallout from secret-y secrets causing both enlightenment and bitter sorrow. The sorrow is on the side of the collective, and the luck is on the side of the leaders, giving me major indigestion as I think about it. Haven’t we had enough egotistical, deluded mad men conning us into believing them over our own eyes and ears? Pluto says no, and it’s tough to blame him; what have we done about these assholes besides whine and get high off Mr. Sketch markers while making placards no one will read? Of course they’re keeping secrets! Dangerous ones. Hidden, game changing knowledge is an obvious element affecting our Aquarian collective, but the timeframe for exposure is uncertain (and remember, Aquarius is Saturn-ruled, so everything in his house moves at the speed of Matlock. It’s possible there are secrets affecting us right now that we won’t uncover until 2053.) Do our solar figures have anything to do with the keeping of such secrets? Time will tell, but only when Father Time decides he feels like goddamn telling it.
8.12.26: Solar Eclipse at 20 Leo, Six and Seven of Wands
We’re dealing with the same roster of players for the upcoming eclipse as we were during the Aquarius full moon, save a few change-ups and one addition. Solar Eclipses are just new moons with baggage, so the moon will be working for Team Leo this round, as will the sun, Jupiter, and a newly leonine Mercury, leaving subzero zaddy Pluto all by his lonesome in Aquarius. Mercury further complicates this eclipse via opposition to Pluto, and whenever that happens, salacious gossip is ferried from the underworld to our ears. Mercury is incapable of shutting up. So the tarot spread for our big eclipse in Leo (which colors most of August’s psychic landscape) looks as follows:
TEAM LEO: Strength(how we inspire others) + The Sun(ideals and leadership) + The High Priestess(physical realm and hidden knowledge) + Six of Wands(victory and hero worship) + Seven of Wands (valor and struggle)
Wheel of Fortune(cycles of luck) + The Magician(education and communication) + Five of Wands(chaos and disagreement)
*STARING DAGGERS AT
TEAM AQUARIUS: Judgement(painful reckonings) + Five of Swords(defeat and resentment)
If we want more details in this delineation, we can think of it like a horoscope; the planets we’re dealing with are the subject matter, which means luminaries, patriarchs, and CEOs will encounter the boundaries of the physical realm. Eclipse history tells us those boundaries can include death, public humiliation or censure, and retirement or reinvention. Full occultation occurs at 20 Leo, a place of simultaneous exit from the Six of Wands and entrance to the Seven of Wands, which hints heavily at undeserved valorization, like, say, a fawning eulogy for a dead guy who was actually a raging, murderous cunt.
It’s true that the outer planets are usually speaking to collective transitions, but Pluto’s opening salvo in Aquarius was powerful enough to resonate in both micro and macro paradigms. The same dynamic will apply to our personal lives during this eclipse; wherever Leo lands in your chart is where egocentric, PT Barnum energy is burning, and the place that sits in Aquarius is questioning that braggadocio with the ominous Tall Man from the old Phantasm movies. The Leo part of our charts might currently feel fun and uplifting in the same way a circus performance does, but that enjoyment relies on hidden whips and cages. The Aquarius part of our charts probably feels weird, unsettling, and transitional, as though existential changes are coming from hell and Tall Man Pluto is supervising the big reveal. Very chill stuff.
The carnival barker is a manipulative charmer, shouting in Leo about how much he loves you suckers, but the man in Aquarius has receipts and unsettling, insectile technology in his corner. The scuttling will get louder in the dark of an eclipsed sun. This is one of those polarities where tip-toeing to the middle is the safest approach; we cannot allow ourselves to be duped by a charming sociopath who tells us everything we want to hear, but we are also allowed to enjoy and embrace a fun transition. We shouldn’t run from revelations, but we also must avoid the paralyzing defeatism that can accompany weighty reckonings. Nobody wants to get stuck in hell The Tall Man.
Eclipse issues stay LIT for six whole months, so it pays to be thorough and read multiple delineations. It’s always enlightening to read both ends of your affected zodiacal axis - Aries should also read Libra, Gemini should read Sagittarius, etc. - but it’s doubly important during eclipses because they signal major transitions along the entire polarity. Yes, the most apparent manifestations of next week’s moon will happen in Leo, but equally intense effects will occur in Aquarius by virtue of their relationship. This is especially salient if you have planets with mutual reception in your Leo/Aquarius houses, so don’t think of the following horoscopes as extra homework; think of them as bonus material to support multiple scenarios.
Aries
Phantasm man in the shadows of the 11th House
P.T. Barnum Carnival Barking in the 5th House
Libra
Phantasm Man in the Shadows of the 5th House
P.T. Barnum Carnival Barking in the 11th House
Okay, so check it out, Aries - a con man is carnival barking in your house of children and creative joy, but he’s currently being thwarted by sinking, demonic vibes coming out of your social circle and public associations. It makes sense that you’d be drawn to the con man; he’s making a trine to your first house and promising all of your creative dreams will blossom into fruition, but you should probably get a second opinion on that. It’s not that you won’t become a famous painter with fifty children, it’s just that there is likely more to the journey than smiling big while holding a paintbrush and a sign on your pelvis that says, ”Open for Business.” For artsy fartsy Aries, (yes! they exist!) the eleventh house can rule over the client or demographic that patronizes your creative output. This eclipse will change something about your work, which in turn might pose difficult questions about who your audience is, or isn’t, and how to stay engaged with them while still remaining true to the muse.
Libra will experience this on the flip side; an uncomfortable reckoning might be looming in the zodiacal diplomat’s house of fun shit, creativity, and children, creating tension with social groups who want to celebrate Hot Girl Summer IV with a leonine carnival barker. What is this shadow looming over what should be sunny, pleasurable areas of life? Pluto loves to pick at existential anxiety, and the size, nature, and scope of one’s family can be mired in uncertainty, whether one is trying to achieve or avoid pregnancy, blend a family, or solve disagreements. This tension could be externally or internally driven; an external example would be a group or committee demanding time that might normally be spent with hobbies, art projects, or babies, and an internal example could manifest as a desire to spend more time in social or professional settings as a way to avoid existing negativity involving all those fifth house ‘fun’ things.
In both instances, you cardinal hooligans experience accelerated transition between individual expression and group belonging, and the key is to hold tension between them without succumbing too far in one direction or the other. If you are a Libra, pretend you are an Aries, and if you’re an Aries, role-play as a Libra. It will, at the very least, be hilarious.
Taurus
Phantasm Man in The Shadows of the 10th House
P.T. Barnum Carnival Barking in the 4th House
Scorpio
Phantasm Man in The Shadows of the 4th House
P.T. Barnum Carnival Barking in the 10th House
Leo and Aquarius bear the heaviest brunt of all this madness by virtue of being the host axis for the next few years, but Taurus and Scorpio are only slightly less tortured because they, too, will feel these eclipses in important, angular houses. Bulls and Scorpions have this chaos in their fourth and tenth, respectively, covering realms of home versus work, ancestry versus legacy, and the life we have already lived versus a future we hope to experience.
For Taurus, naughty secrets and whispered reckonings may unfold at work or other public and professional endeavors, thanks to the Sun’s spotlight beaming out of your domestic sphere. Something boisterous at home might nudge a brick of dissatisfaction loose in the foundation of your career, and the south node’s proximity to Leo suggests that releasing a private, domestic hang-up will be what frees you to reimagine your public self. If you became an accountant because your toxic mother told you every other profession was worthless, for instance, then it’s understandable to reinvent a brand new career once you realize you don’t actually give a fuck about outdated, familial expectations. To be fair, traditional expectations are very hard for a Taurus to release. The Pluto of it all is glaring at you from your Aquarian house of public ambition and asking if you learned your lesson following ‘the expected’ path instead of your desires - why remain dissatisfied with your life simply to hew closely to precedent and tradition?
Scorpio has the same problem in reverse; our unsettling revelations are native to the realm of home and family, and they might be coming into stark relief because of an ego boost at work. Professional accolades might have you looking at the way you’re perceived by certain family members and deciding you don’t have to take it anymore, or you could find yourself needing to rethink a living situation entirely due to positive career developments. The sticky wicket here is the south node, whose proximity to your Leo-ruled tenth suggests a tendency to aggrandize your professional capabilities, or to overvalue your public self compared to your private, domestic self, and if that’s the case, why? Who told you that things are only worthwhile if strangers and acquaintances know about them and bless you with accolades?
Scorpio’s sad shadows live at home, and a shiny, happy public persona enables avoidance of gross ancestral karma. Taurus, on the other hand, will shield themselves from public difficulty with domestic comfort and bliss. There has GOT to be a middle ground here, you stubborn assholes.
Gemini
Phantasm Man in The Shadows of the 9th House
P.T. Barnum Carnival Barking in the 3rd House
Sagittarius
Phantasm Man in The Shadows of the 3rd House
P.T. Barnum Carnival Barking in the 9th House
Centaurs and Twins experience the tension of individuality versus community in the realm of local band versus touring bands, which is the punk rock way of describing the axis between the third and ninth houses. Oversimplified, this tension can be understood as the familiar versus the exotic, the grind versus vacation, and expected mundanity versus anticipatory exploration.
Loquacious Gemini is probably feeling gassed up about the local scene; neighborhood hang outs, commute routes, siblings or sibling like relationships, and the shop keeper with whom you make good-natured sports wagers. Mercury’s air denizens will be attracted to comfort and familiarity over the next two years, which may alter the approach to longer trips or enrichment activities that take you far from home, like college. This might be the sort of situation where the more you learn about something, be it educational or philosophical, the less you like it, causing retraction and a desire for the familiar. Sometimes, Twins, eclipses at the south node expose fear that we need to release, so it’s worth examining why you are afraid to leave your well-trodden life for new experiences. Being the big name act in a tiny club won’t keep you busy for long, so walk the middle path and remain open to different exotic opportunities.
Over in Sagittarius land, the familiar is revealing itself to be secretly weird, which suits Centaurs just fine; you didn’t want to stay home anyway. Trouble is, your gregarious ruler is the one sending a siren call from the house of travel and exploration, and you do have a habit of leaping onto planes, trains, and automobiles with unearned optimism, Sag, so think about your true motivation. Are you bored of your daily meanderings, or are you avoiding things closer to home due to discomfort? If you’re tired of your neighbors shenanigans or annoyed by close siblings you can always avoid them for a few days before putting your big boy underwear on and dealing with them. Believe me, it will take far less time and money than packing up and moving to a Tibetan temple every time you experience wanderlust.
Cancer
Phantasm Man in The Shadows of the 8th House
P.T. Barnum Carnival Barking in the 2nd House
Capricorn
Phantasm Man in The Shadows of the 2nd House
P.T. Barnum Carnival Barking in the 8th House
A simplified perspective on the Leo/Aquarius axis for these cardinal signs might frame it as tension between what you gain and what you lose as you move through life, and while this is often financial, it doesn’t mean that’s always the case. Our second house covers our gains in value, which can include people, skills, and acquisitions, and our eighth house often speaks to losses in those realms; not because that is the sum of it’s parts, but because this is the house of sticky karmic entanglements. Inheritance, death, divorce settlements, and the signing or breaking of contracts land here because those are all the formal ways we tie ourselves to others.
Crabs may be faced with unfinished business in this karmic house of endings; entanglements you thought were settled could resurrect themselves and bite you in the ass, like forgotten debt, or signatures you placed long ago on a mortgage, bequeathment, divorce, or commercial lease. Conversely, optimism abounds in your house of value - your skills, creations, and interests seem poised to pad out your material security, which makes me curious about the skeletons rattling around in your house of loss. Perhaps your carnival barker is reacting to a need triggered by a loss of spousal income, or the death of someone who was key to your finances, juicing the only capitalist bones you have in your body. Maybe this eclipse is simple exposing how tired you are of relying on other people for financial well-being, which is understandable, but the presence of the south node so close to this new moon suggests a need to release hang-ups around your wealth or lack thereof.
Capricorns are dealing with a flipped script; the lurker vibes of your house of value might be hidden behind the blinding light trained on your house of loss and transition, and that’s a bit of a catch-22, considering Sea Goats are no slackers when it comes to the second house. Whatever is happening with third party funds and contracts looks like it’s about to pull focus from Capricorn’s true north of making bank, which means’s Saturn’s feminine denizens have a tightrope to walk between shoring up the circumstances of loss and continuing to harness ambition to create value. It’s also possible that the transitions in your eighth house are generative instead of reductive, like landing a sweet inheritance from your great aunt Barb, which some people would take as a sign to quit their job and buy a beach front property. Although you wouldn’t, Cap. You’re better than that, as you enjoy demonstrating as often as possible.
Leo
Phantasm Man in The Shadows of the 7th House
P.T. Barnum Carnival Barking in the 1st House
Aquarius
Phantasm Man in The Shadows of the 1st House
P.T. Barnum Carnival Barking in the 7th House
It’s the stars of the shit show, everybody! Welcome! Snark aside, this is a powerful transition for the zodiac signs soon to host our lunar nodes, and they aren’t quiet archetypes in the best of times. Leo and Aquarius are houses for everything ostentatious, stubborn, and enigmatic - they do not shrink. So when new moon energy is amplified by the light of the sun, these two become even more intense.
Leo denizens are probably feeling pretty good right about now, thanks to Jupiter and your irritatingly shiny ruler, two hugely positive influences strutting through your house of self. Three different Leo’s I know have received hefty professional accolades recently, and another was just given a clean bill of health after a long bout of illness. When the moon obscures the sun, this house will go dark, which could suggest exposure of unfinished first house business, despite the good fortune Leo has been enjoying. Brief resurgence of illness, sudden physical restriction, or the discovery of additional goals regarding recent self-improvement are also possible. Such endeavors naturally affect close relationships, which leads me to wonder what kind of shit The Tall Man is digging up in your seventh house. Tight connections can often be affected by dramatic turns in either participants character; I’d probably need a minute if my husband came home and began training to be a Sumo wrestler, not because I have anything against Sumo wrestlers, but because drastic changes take a bit of acclimation.
The other thing I’m curious about, Leo, is the reason for such over-the-top-ness in that first house, because sometimes carnival barkers aren’t relaying anything important to the audience, but are creating a distraction from something going on behind the scenes. Given the position of Hades in your relationship sector, it might be worth examining old, unspoken tension with your most important person or people.
Aquarius has the questionable fortune to host Tall Man Pluto over the next twenty years, which places this carnival barker of an eclipse in your relationship realm. Maybe a boisterous spouse has been distracting you when you feel down, or a new relationship is presenting the perfect opportunity to lose yourself in someone else. Fun, but not entirely healthy. Whether you are experiencing light friction or total ego death in your foundational identity will vary between each Aquarian chart, but it’s all happening for a reason, Water-Bearer, and that reason is necessary evolution. Shrinking yourself to hide in a relationship will not spare you the pain of personal reinvention, it will simply delay it, and eventually your partner will notice. Continue the work you need to do on your own damn self to ensure the good vibes in your seventh house are mutual and mature.
Virgo
Phantasm Man in The Shadows of the 6th House
P.T. Barnum Carnival Barking in the 12th House
Pisces
Phantasm Man in The Shadows of the 12th House
P.T. Barnum Carnival Barking in the 6th House
It surprises absolutely no one to hear that Pisces denizens are very comfortable in the twelfth house, a place of fantasies, secrets, hidden things, mental monsters. Essentially, all the things a Piscean person thinks about before they go to bed, when they wake up, on breaks, and any other time that they aren’t actively speaking to you. Pisces patience is endless, their boundaries non-existent, and their comfort in liminal spaces infuriating, which is why they aren’t worried about Plutonian scrutiny during his Aquarius trip. The Tall Man is digging up bodies in your brain? That’s fine, Pisces was already doing it and would love a hand. Is it nebulous and painful? Good timing, Pisces was looking for new inspiration.
Conversely, there is a disconcerting brightness in the deeply practical sixth house that has every part of this mutable, feminine water sign performing very responsibly in matters of good habits, timely decisions, physical maintenance and daily, often wage earning tasks. Unusually responsibly. Are you actually okay, Pisces? Despite everything I said earlier, there is a possibility of over identification with the shadows that Pluto is shoving in your face, and if you are coping via a hyper focus on busy work and mundanity, you won’t be coping for very long. Becoming subsumed by tasks of service is understandable, especially if it involves taking care of a loved one, but attempts at subduing the reflective, illusory part of your psyche have never worked, ultimately resulting in more severely escapist behavior. Overcorrect in either one of these houses and you might wake up to find you’ve blown all your savings in an opium den, and also, it’s now 2028. See how that would be bad? Walk the middle path, Fish; set a loose schedule that allows time for both your new, mature habits and some freeform wallowing that may or may not include watercolors.
Both of these mutable signs, Pisces and Virgo, will experience this eclipse like a couple of confused mummers; they’re making a stage entrance as the same character they’ve always played, but from the opposite side they normally do. The resulting tension between these two places, one of materially practical habits and the other of psycho-spiritual exploration, is getting a script flip for Virgo as well, so Maidens shouldn’t start in with the smugness just yet.
Thanks to gregarious Jupiter and his equally irritating buddy, the sun, Virgo has been oddly welcoming to intangible questions of ‘mental health’ and other woo-woo shit (woo-woo to Virgo, anyway) at this late stage of summer. It might make sense, then, if a few routines have gotten away from you - in a rare moment of vulnerability, you, who refers to polishing every piece of silver and jewelry you own as therapy, have gotten more comfortable with actual therapeutic practices.
That’s all well and good…unless it is a reflexive reaction to Pluto’s stinky, improperly turned compost in the place you typically shine, the house of tasks and service. It’s possible that something has surfaced over there that makes you question yourself, Virgo; a bad review, a pet death, even trouble at work, things with which conscientious, dutiful Maidens rarely grapple. It makes sense that Pluto in your sixth house might feel like ego death, too; service to others is often how Virgo shapes identity. That doesn’t mean you need to disappear into your own brain or lug around a bunch of adult coloring books, for god’s sake. Falling off a fitness wagon or getting fired is not a value judgement on your character, it’s just crappy stuff that happens once in a while. Calm down.
I love the way you tie Tarot to astrology. It makes me feel vindicated.
As usual, you not only nail delineations but do some craz, 1970s stoner string art between those nails. Thanks for all the work you put into these missives.
Cranky, I appreciate the reminder to not blow all my $$$ and wake up in an opium den.