Cancer (22 June – 22 July)
You feel like a fraud at work. But do not lose confidence, Cancer! As long as you keep showing up to the office and pretending you work there, soon you will earn the trust and esteem of coworkers and clients.
Leo (23 July – 22 August)
Summer’s here. Ssh, don’t look over. Stop sweating! If you sweat, summer will lose interest and you’ll end up in a humid purgatory of mosquitoes and fatigue. Summer needs to think you don’t want it. You need to make summer sweat (ha!). “Neg” summer. Wear flannels and parkas. Walk past pools and popsicle stands without a second look. Shovel your front walk (don’t sweat though!). If you can ignore summer until the end of July, you will enjoy a passionate, sexy August.
Virgo (23 August – 23 September)
You renounce the trappings of modern life and return to the wilderness. There, you meet a possum hanging upside-down from a tree branch. You befriend the possum, whom you come to know as James. James teaches you how to hang upside-down from trees. Seeing the forest through the eyes of a possum changes you. Your intuition becomes keen. Your foraging skills improve. James becomes a mentor and a father figure. One day, you are hanging upside-down from a branch when it snaps. You fall to earth, injuring your head. You awake in a hospital, disoriented and upset. Then you notice James keeping vigil on a maple outside your window. Inspiration strikes. You begin work on a company based on a search engine, which you call Possum. You design Possum to return search queries in reverse order, beginning with the least relevant results. It is a spectacular failure. Penniless, you return to the wilderness and meet James in a hollow. “The human world does not understand me anymore,” you say. James looks at you. His eyes are like dark pools. I do not understand you, either, they seem to say. James lopes into the underbrush, never to be seen again.
Libra (24 September – 23 October)
You will get struck by lightning, Libra. Seriously. I know it sounds unlikely, but it happens, and now it’s going to happen to you. The good news is that you will get struck at the very moment you are snapping a selfie, and while you will not survive, the file miraculously will. Viral gold! A posthumous twitpic briefly amuses thousands.
Scorpio (24 October – 22 November)
You have difficulty getting excited about things that make others happy, Scorpio. You find yourself sitting for hours, bored and confused, while people around you enjoy themselves with perplexing ease. You feel withdrawn, apathetic, left out for reasons you cannot understand. Do not worry; the World Cup will be over soon.
Sagittarius (23 November – 21 December)
Fire will play an adversarial, though not deadly, role in your life this month. Do not attempt to bake cookies or cauterize wounds.
Capricorn (22 December – 20 January)
Did you know that Saturn’s rings are not really rings? Things will not be as they seem this month. Especially rings. Wedding rings, boxing rings, the Lord of the Rings—the lot. If you encounter a ring, any ring at all, assume it’s just a mass of volcanic ice, nebular dust, and lunar smithereens.
Aquarius (21 January – 19 February)
An unexpected betrayal will send you reeling. But, to be honest, Aquarius, you had been notified months ago that a betrayal was imminent, and a little planning would have gone a long way. Try to be more organized.
Pisces (20 February – 20 March)
Your soft spot for lost causes is misspent on a lifetime defending Comic Sans.
Aries (21 March – 20 April)
Your performance at a professional networking event is undermined by a bout of hiccups, and further undermined when you begin walking around desperately asking attendees to frighten and/or tickle you.
Taurus (21 April – 21 May)
You will have some new pants.
Gemini (22 May – 21 June)
You encounter your evil twin in the produce aisle of the supermarket. Your twin is holding a bag of kale. (Ew, kale.) You are gripping an avocado. There is a long, tense pause while you each weigh the pros and cons of confrontation. In that moment a mother and son pass by in the aisle. She is scolding him for trying to sneak a party-sized bag of M&Ms into their cart. In a flash, you and your twin are transported to the same childhood memory: you are in the grocery store, conspiring to finagle a Hershey’s bar into the cart against the wishes of your mother. Your twin would create a diversion by insisting on soda pop. As your mother would give her spiel against sugary drinks, you would slip a Hershey’s bar into the cart, hiding it between boxes of frozen fishsticks. Together you would hold your breath at the checkout counter, hoping mom would be distracted by the credit card machine when the cashier scanned the chocolate. At home the two of you would strategically volunteer to put away the groceries. In doing so, you would palm the Hershey’s and then abscond to your shared bedroom. You would break the bar in half and laugh that identical giggle that you always shared. There was no good twin or evil twin then (nor the perpetual dispute over which of you is, in fact, the evil one). You were just children. That was long ago. Now, the mother and son move on from the aisle, and you find that your grip on the avocado has loosened. Your twin looks tired. You feel tired. Not today, you both seem to say. Not today.
Steve Kolowich is a willing but deeply confused citizen of the internet. His work has appeared in various publications and will probably never disappear. You can follow him on Twitter @stevekolowich, and you can also follow him in real life—if you can figure out where he lives, which wouldn't be that hard.