Poetic License Horoscope for September 24-29

A Mini Tarot Reading


(Note: If you enjoy made-up advice and pop-culture mysticism, come visit me at the Mount Airy Village Fair this Sunday, September 26th! You can get a totally made up Tarot reading, make September Valentines, and peruse my brand new book of love poems, Adventures of A Lazy Polyamorist. XOXOXOX-Jane)

Virgo (Aug. 24-Sept. 23): Four of Cups-: Gloria Steinem said “Women have a terminal case of gratitude.” I recently switched my Gratitude Journal to a Happiness List. I felt like being so grateful made me disappear and get taken for granted. Dial back the thank you notes, but still notice what you’re given.


Libra (Sept. 24-Oct. 21): Force- A fancy lady is grasping the lion’s jaw. The lion looks kind of abashed. You are wearing infinity as hat—grasp the application process, your bank balance, your forgotten novel, any untamable thing.


Scorpio (Oct. 22-Nov. 22): The Sun- Your egg has hatched, your community garden is exploding with tomatoes, and your tweets are retweeted to rival Rob Cordry’s. Like Lady Gaga bringing her asked-and-told soldiers onto the red carpet and into the news cycle, use your weird voice for good.

Sagittarius (Nov. 23-Dec. 22): Ten of Wands- If you’re feeling overwhelmed, it might be a good time to remember that gold is heavy. Delegate some of your riches; pass it on like coins along the road.


Capricorn (Dec. 23-Jan. 20): The Lovers- Your interloper might not be an arrow-wielding centaur, but nonetheless you need some element of hybridizing, some alchemy, even if it only means switching to half-decaf, making art in mixed media, or being a little two-faced.

Aquarius (Jan. 21-Feb. 19): Five of Cups- Something you put a lot of stock in is starting to lose some of its meaning—that very well COULD be you in the spotlight, losing your religion. Be lost. Be a little at sea and see what floats by next.


Pisces (Feb. 20-March 20): Wheel of Fortune- I married a woman who is excellent at making paper boats. I would advise you to do the same. It doesn’t matter if you lose your crown or ascend to the seagulls; these temporary vessels keep you strangely grounded.


Aries (March 21-April 18): The Moon- Once, when I was 20 or so, I stayed up all night painting The Moon card for Joe Prisco, a boyfriend of questionable value. He dumped me that very weekend, but a least I had the painting.


Taurus (April 19-May 18): Five of Coins- In the words of LCD Soundsystem, “Drunk girls know that love is an astronaut. It comes back but it’s never the same.” Try again anyway.

Gemini (May 19-June 21): Nine of Wands- Choose nine things you can’t do anything about this week. Don’t do anything about them.


Cancer (June 22-July 23): Queen of Cups- According to heartthrob folk singer Peter Mulvey, “The trouble with shoes is they come untied. You might take a fall down the stairs. Then a poet might come along and say “Isn’t that just like life?” The trouble with poets is they see poetry everywhere.” Be like that.


Leo (July 24-Aug. 23): The Magician- Intuition isn’t just blindly letting your feelings make your decisions. It’s using the information already stored in your brain. Blink like Malcolm Gladwell, Leo, and trust your decisions.

Poetic License Horoscope for Sept 17-23

A Little Surly in Places


Virgo (Aug. 24-Sept. 23): My last trip to the ocean this summer was all about getting pummeled by waves, falling into the surf over and over, struggling to the left or right as the lifeguard whistled us to safety. It was sandy for my bathing suit and cleanse-y for my soul.

Libra (Sept. 24-Oct. 21): Channel your inner Steven Slater, who over the summer became a national hero when he quit his flight attendant job in a flourish of swears and beer. No need to quit, but do take a break from the corporate yolk of forced cheerfulness, before you get trapped in the air with it.

Scorpio (Oct. 22-Nov. 22): A fake Buddhist guest speaker at church a few weeks ago suggested that the Gulf Oil Spill was a result of bad Karma that came from us not trying hard enough to stop the war. Didn’t she hear the dolphins picketing, the turtles quietly lighting themselves on fire? People are as careless with the word “Karma” as they are with the word “literally.”

Sagittarius (Nov. 23-Dec. 22): Can we dispatch a fleet of educators just to talk lovingly and instructively to children on the bus? Instead of telling them to shut up? That would be a good job for you.

Capricorn (Dec. 23-Jan. 20): Like a parent who finds the house too quiet now that his or her brood has gone back to school, take time to fold the laundry in silence. Read a book. Read seven. Watch inappropriate things on the television. Swear yourself silly.

Aquarius (Jan. 21-Feb. 19): Things to do before you trade in your old phone: mourn your grandfather’s last number. Forward your talisman-texts to someone you trust. Appreciate the size of the buttons. Put your photos someplace safe.

Pisces (Feb. 20-March 20): Monday night I was walking in Love Park with my wife when a presidential motorcade happened by. The next morning I saw the Secret Service metal detecting kids on their way into school. It was like someone was noticing us. (But he never texts anymore…)

Aries (March 21-April 18): The absolute value of a number is its distance from zero on the number line. The absolute value of -7 is 7. The absolute value of work is its closeness to sincerity. I don’t know how to graph that.

Taurus (April 19-May 18): You get Mad Men this week! Don Draper realized that he may not be able to handle the new generation of women because they tend to speak more freely. At the same time, he realized they were pretty willing to give blow jobs. I guess the moral here is, let people speak.

Gemini (May 19-June 21): Last week on Project Runway, Mondo was dismayed to find himself paired with Michael C. until they actually started the project and he discovered that his partner was much more competent than groupthink dictated. Weren’t they ADORABLE snuggling at the end?

Cancer (June 22-July 23): This week, think about forbidden things. Tack up pictures of lost loves on your bulletin board. Go ahead and hate on some virtuous people. Covet covet covet! Think some beloved bands are overrated. The world probably won’t end.

Leo (July 24-Aug. 23): I am considering graduating myself from therapy for this reason: The lady suggested that I interrupt my wife’s job-hunting to talk about how unhappy her current job makes us.

Poetic License Horoscope for September 13-19

From the Last Day of Summer

Virgo (Aug. 24-Sept. 23): I’m writing this from a bench in the Wissahickon. In front of me, a family is applauding. Behind me, a child is playing “Yellow Submarine” on the violin. Congratulate yourself on a summer well spent.

Libra (Sept. 24-Oct. 21): (SPOILER ALERT?) Don Draper: "Somebody very important to me died. "Peggy: "Who?" Don: "The only person in the world who really knew me." Peggy: "That's not true." Don’s at his best when he’s with his gal pals, and so are you.

Scorpio (Oct. 22-Nov. 22): Learn to identify birdsongs so that you can think of them as portents. The purple finch means “all is well.” The oriole means “Are you KIDDING me with how beautiful this is?” The blue jay means “You’re waking up at home.”

Sagittarius (Nov. 23-Dec. 22): Once you start birdwatching, you’ll realize how little detail you were seeing before. You’ll realize that what you thought were sparrows were actually chickadees, house finches, winter goldfinches, juncos, and sparrows. Start seeing the whole spectrum of birds.

Capricorn (Dec. 23-Jan. 20): A Capricorn pal asked me to write cooler predictions for her, but think of it as a Rorschach test—I could press a butterfly into the ink between the folded pages, but you could see absolutely anything.

Aquarius (Jan. 21-Feb. 19): This month’s Glamour features an article called “How to Get Over the Guy You Can’t Get Over.” It is illustrated by a picture of a girl with a Polaroid in her polka dot undies. The advice goes from “Go Ahead and Wallow,” to “Move the Eff on Already.” To avoid whatever you need to get over, you won’t have to miss many parties.

Pisces (Feb. 20-March 20): Big lug Lane on Big Brother had this to say when housemate Britney won $10,000: "Damn it, she does not need 10 Gs. She's gonna use that for lipstick and leggings." Help yourself to as many alliterative luxuries as you can this week.

Aries (March 21-April 18): In Carolyn Parkhurst’s novel The Nobodies Album, the protagonist is a novelist in the process of rewriting the endings of all her books to try and fix her life. You don’t need rewritings, though, just sequels.

Taurus (April 19-May 18): Make a list of your summer accomplishments. Include tomatoes grown, currents fought, TV series watched in one sitting. Light the list on fire for one more set of S’mores.

Gemini (May 19-June 21): Go ahead and pray for the things you want. Your deity of choice will certainly accept your crumpled list. Don’t ask me how I know this.

Cancer (June 22-July 23): Anne Lamott said “Write like your parents are dead.” but that is too grisly for me. How about “Write like your in-laws aren’t on your Facebook.” (Confidential to Lawsons: LOVE YOU!)

Leo (July 24-Aug. 23): I have been meaning to learn the names of butterflies, but I’ve been putting it off. So I Googled “Butterfly identification” and saved some directories to the desktop. 1. I feel a little richer that way. 2. I think I saw a Mourning Cloak.

by Jane Cassady

Poetic License Horoscope Sept 3-9

Who Watches Giles?

Virgo (Aug. 24-Sept. 23): Write your ten birthday wishes out in sparkle-icing on a sheet cake. Learn to make frosting roses, it’s about time. Count your hopes in sugar petals. Avoid red food coloring, it’s bitter.

Libra (Sept. 24-Oct. 21): By way of alleviating stress, call up ten people you love and say nice things about them. Be emphatic. Your aches and pains will decrease.

Scorpio (Oct. 22-Nov. 22): The motto of Harry’s Occult Shop over on South Street is “We aim to help.” You get the feeling that by “we” they don’t mean “We the guys behind the apothocary counter,” but more like “We and all the unseen forces of the universe.” Ask for that kind of help.

Sagittarius (Nov. 23-Dec. 22): This week, be like Giles from Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Be a Watcher to every wild force for goodness, every supernaturally strong slangy archetype. Don’t wish you were somewhere that’s else.

Capricorn (Dec. 23-Jan. 20): You are a calendar of how to make strawberry shortcake. On Monday, decide biscuits or sweet sponge cake. Tuesday, slice the strawberries, etc.

Aquarius (Jan. 21-Feb. 19): How to have a lovely Baroque-pop catharsis: 1. Set up Google Chrome as your browser. 2. Close all other windows. 3. Go to www.thewildernessdowntown.com. 4. Type in your first address. 5. Search.

Pisces (Feb. 20-March 20): It might be difficult for Mad Men to make rock bottom look stylish. Luckily, you have no such worries. You are as fresh and bright as a new hat.

Aries (March 21-April 18): This week, a guru of mine very quickly became an un-guru when she made fun of a man who kept his dog on a very long leash. This is at least a failure of imagination.

Taurus (April 19-May 18): I forget the name of the artist who installed a tree branch over the gate at Dia:Beacon as a piece of art. Turning the branch upside-down fooled it into thinking it was alive and blooming one last time.

Gemini (May 19-June 21): Something I learned while napping to Radiolab: until very recently, like the 1970s, zoos were nothing but wire cages and concrete. Be like whoever it was who came up with naturalistic animal habitats—still a zoo, but still.

Cancer (June 22-July 23): In her poem “Other Prohibited Items,” Martha Greenfield lists items confiscated at airport security, including a sentimental wrench, rare rosewater, breast milk still warm. What should you travel with? What should you risk?

Leo (July 24-Aug. 23): Some ponderings about Gretchen from Project Runway: 1. Do you think she knows she’ll be edited this way? 2. She’s just saying out loud what our Monkey Mind is always yammering about. 3. How does one go on after having been yelled at by Tim Gunn?

by Jane Cassady

Jen’s Top Ten Alphabets All Around

Animalia by Graeme Base (Penguin, $7.00)

Alphabet City by Stephen Johnson (Penguin, $6.99)

Eating the Alphabet by Lois Ehlert (Sandpiper, $7.99 in paper; Harcourt, $6.99 or $11.99 as board books of different sizes)

Creature ABC by Andrew Zuckerman (Chronicle Books, $19.99)

Alphabet by Matthew Van Fleet (Simon & Schuster, $19.99)

Q is for Duck by Mary Etting (Houghton, $6.95)

I Spy: An Alphabet in Art, devised and selected by Lucy Micklethwait (HarperCollins, $10.99)

Jambo Means Hello: Swahili Alphabet Book by Muriel Feelings
(Penguin, $6.99)

Compost Stew: An A to Z Recipe for the Earth by Mary McKenna Siddals
(Random House, $15.99)

Alligators All Around by Maurice Sendak
(HarperCollins, $5.95 alone, $16.95 as part of the Nutshell Library)

August 2010, Jennifer Sheffield

Kate's Top Five Favorite Kids’ Chapter Books with Plucky Heroines

Anne of Green Gables by L.M. Montgomery
(Random House, $5.99)
One of the most well-loved heroines of all time, 12-year-old orphan Anne Shirley captures hearts with her stubborn optimism and indomitable spirit in the face of harsh life circumstances.

The Witch of Blackbird Pond by Elizabeth George Spear
(Yearling Books, $6.99)
This book tells the story of Kit Tyler, a 16-year-old girl living in 17th century colonial America who is forced to take matters into her own hands to save herself and those she cares about from an unjust fate.

Catherine Called Birdy by Karen Cushman
(Trophy Press, $6.99)
14-year-old Catherine is the daughter of a knight in 12th century medieval England who is determined to marry her off against her will. But spunky Catherine has other ideas, and sets about foiling her father's plans at every turn.

Pippi Longstocking by Astrid Lindgren
(Penguin Books, $5.99)
Life is one big adventure for Pippi Longstocking, a charmingly irreverent and outrageous heroine who takes her neighbors Tommy and Annika along for the ride on her crazy escapades.

Ella Enchanted by Gail Carson Levine
(HarperCollins, $6.99)
Ella of Frell was saddled with a terrible curse at birth: she must obey every order given to her. But that won't stop spirited Ella from setting out on an adventure to save a prince, his kingdom and herself in the process!

August 2010, Kate Musliner

Sheila’s Picks: On Beyond Heather Has Two Mommies! -- Picture books featuring LGBT themes or family members

1. Mini Mia and her Darling Uncle by Pija Lindenbaum

2. The Sissy Duckling by Harvey Fierstein

3 & 4. Mommy, Mama, and Me, and Daddy, Papa, and Me, two board books by Lesléa Newman

5. In Our Mother's House, by Patricia Polacco

6 & 7. King and King and King and King and Family by Linda de Haan

August 2010, Sheila Avelin

Five of Kasey's Favorite Poetry Collections

Fire to Fire: New and Selected Poems by Mark Doty (Perennial, $15.99)
Mark Doty writes both memoirs and poetry, and consequently his memoirs are full of gorgeously poetic images, and his poems of moving narratives from his life. His partner's death from AIDS, finding new love later in life, relationships with dogs and with the natural world--these subjects, and many others, fill the pages of Fire to Fire and make reading it an unforgettable experience.

Otherwise: New and Selected Poems by Jane Kenyon (Graywolf, $16.00)
There are so many things I love about Jane Kenyon's poems: her quiet, plain-spoken voice; her powerful relationship with the plants in her garden, her cats, her New Hampshire town; her deeply emotional, mysterious, sometimes ambivalent spiritual life. This book, my favorite of hers, combines the best poems from her first four books, and is the perfect place to begin to explore her world.

After by Jane Hirshfield (Perennial, $14.99)
Jane Hirshfield has been one of my favorite poets for as long as I can remember, and I've read this collection, her most recent, over and over again, falling a little more in love with it each time. Hirshfield's subjects are love, longing, impermanence, the natural world; her poems are some of the most gorgeous and moving ones I know.

New and Selected Poems by Mary Oliver (Beacon, $17.00)
Mary Oliver is a wonderful poet for everyone, but especially for people who are intimidated by poetry or feel that it's going to be too hard or obscure for them to enjoy. Oliver's work is full of depth and beauty, but it's also incredibly accessible and open. She writes largely about the grace and healing powers of the natural world.

The Kingdom of Ordinary Time by Marie Howe (Norton, $13.95)
Marie Howe is much like Mary Oliver in the sense that her work is wonderfully accessible, but her subject matter couldn't be more different. Her second (and also amazing) book, What the Living Do, is mostly about her beloved brother's death from AIDS; The Kingdom of Ordinary Time deals with the deaths of loved ones, too, but also with relationships, mothering, friendship, movies, and spiritual life. It reads both like a fabulous memoir and like the evocative, moving poetry it is.

August 2010, Kasey Jueds

Poetic License Horoscope for August 27-September 2

“Art is the center of the real world. Philadelphia is the center of the art world.”-various mosaics

Virgo (Aug. 24-Sept. 23): Happy birthday month, fellow Virgos, and thanks for being good sports about however I decide to self-soothe on any given week. Anyway! Number of years I’ve been going to clubs: 20! Amount that house music has changed: 0. Appreciate your patterns, your looped samples, the comfort of your constant beats.

Libra (Sept. 24-Oct. 21): Today my therapist gave me a note card that says this: “Don’t fight with yourself. Let yourself be wrong and sometimes stupid.” She knew it was the right advice when I started laughing my ass off.

Scorpio (Oct. 22-Nov. 22): This is what the fortune cookie that came with my iced coffee says: “You will make many changes before settling satisfactorily.” It makes me a little antsy, but it might work for you.

Sagittarius (Nov. 23-Dec. 22): There’s a pop song stuck in my head. I just Googled it, it’s by La Roux. It goes “This time baby/I’ll be/bulletproof.” That is a silly but very appealing idea. Indulge it!

Capricorn (Dec. 23-Jan. 20): This month I’ve resolved to be less Allison and more Peggy. In case you don’t watch Mad Men, allow me to translate: let’s be less the brokenhearted secretary and more the arty copywriter in the midst of a consciousness-awakening.

Aquarius (Jan. 21-Feb. 19): Have you ever been to The Blue Grotto in Philadelphia? Conceptual artist Randy Dalton wanted to give Philadelphia a blue ribbon for its arts contributions, so he made these beautiful environments of found objects bathed in varied blue lights. Give yourself a prize like that. Light up the color of swimming pools. Send the message to landing planes.

Pisces (Feb. 20-March 20): Draw a map of your childhood home. Be very specific—don’t forget the lilac bush, the sauce-stained sink, the rough wallpaper. Open the door and start redecorating, or at least wash the dishes.

Aries (March 21-April 18): The other day my wife and I were walking to the store when a drunk man started hollering at us, yelling comments about our asses and such. Usually I’d just scowl and walk away, but this time, it was very satisfying to swear back at him.

Taurus (April 19-May 18): According to The United States of Tara, we sometimes package our vulnerable parts and jettison them. Find and open all of these pretty little pathos-packages. Save the ribbons.

Gemini (May 19-June 21): In the words of Lucille Clifton, for my brother who’s leaving college soon: “may you/open your eyes to water/water waving forever/and may you in your innocence/sail through this to that.”

Cancer (June 22-July 23): I generally take advice from the poetry quotes in the church bulletin: "One day the sun admitted, I am just a shadow. I wish I could show you The Infinite Incandescence that has cast my brilliant image! I wish I could show you, When you are lonely or in darkness, The Astonishing Light Of your own Being!"-Hafiz

Leo (July 24-Aug. 23): Sometimes you can decide that you are quite edified enough, thank you very much, and that all you want to do after all these weeks of making beautiful things is to go home and see how things turn out with the Diamond Power of Veto on Big Brother. Your soul wants junk.

Janet’s Picks: What to Do with Your Toddler When It's Too Hot to Do Anything

Sandra Boynton has withstood the test of time for favorite toddler reads. Her animals are whimsical, colors tend toward the primary, and text remains simple and humorous. After twenty years, I still sometimes catch myself going to bed with the words, "Moo, Baa, LA LA LA", running through my head. So when the heat index again reaches 110 degrees, bring your toddler into our air-conditioning and take your time enjoying our collection. There is joy awaiting on the back cover of each board book. Eight covers of other Boynton books are displayed. Hear exclamations of which books are owned and at home, which were bought for a present, and which might be bought in the future. Below are a few old favorites, bath helps, and newer additions:

Moo, BAA, LA LA LA! (Little Simon Books, $5.99)

My Piggy Book (Little Simon Books, $16.95)
Ideal for car rides, My Piggy Book is a plush toy to cuddle complete with six padded pages and a snout that oinks.

Barnyard Bath (Workman Publishing, $7.95)
A perfect bath toy for getting through the dreaded shampoo. Your toddler can read away, turning pages as you scrub and rinse.

Philadelphia Chickens (Workman Publishing, $16.95)
Complete with a CD, pages of lyrics, musical scores, and dance steps, Philadelphia Chickens is one of a series of musicals that will delight all.

Big Box of Boynton (Workman Publishing, $18.95)
This set includes Barnyard Dance...Pajama Time...Oh My Oh My Dinosaurs! Sets make a perfect new baby gift.

August 2010, Janet Elfant

Mo’s Five Books That Relate to Cities and Ecology

(3 of which are about projects to make your home sustainable, and 2 of which are children’s books about urban gardens to inspire you)

Toolbox For Sustainable City Living by Scott Kellogg and Stacy Pettigrew
(South End Press, $16.00)
This book gives detailed instruction on how to carry out various sustainability related home projects--from passive solar, to grey water recycling, to small turbines.

Dam Nation: Dispatches for the Water Underground edited by Cleo Woelfle-Erskine (Soft Skull Press, $19.95)
This book discusses in-depth the ecological devastation caused by dams and modern water systems and then gives detailed instructions on building grey water systems.

Worms Eat My Garbage: How to Set Up and Maintain a Worm Composting System by Mary Appelhof (Flowerfield Enterprises, $12.95)

The Curious Garden by Peter Brown
(Little, Brown & Company, $16.99)
This book is based on the Highline in Manhattan, a garden made on old elevated railroad tracks. My favorite line is “The garden was especially curious about old, forgotten things.”

The Gardener by Sarah Stewart (Square Fish, $6.99)
A girl moves from the country to the city and brings her garden to the rooftop of a row-house and a smile to her Uncle’s face.

[Editor's note: The Curious Garden and The Gardener are also among Maleka's June picks.]

August 2010, Mo Speller

Erica’s Five Last Lines That Seal the Deal

Oh, you know you’ve done it. You open a book and flip right to the end. You read the last line first, you impatient, spoiler-loving son of a gun! I do it because I like an author who knows how to close. If you can nail the end, then at least I know you’re good for a beginning and a middle.

Brave New World by Aldous Huxley
(Harper Perennial, $14.99)
“Slowly, very slowly, like two unhurried compass needles, the feet turned towards the right; north, north-east, east, south-east, south, south-south-west; then paused, and, after a few seconds, turned as unhurriedly back towards the left. South-south west, south, south-east, east…”

A Clockwork Orange by Anthony Burgess
(W. W. Norton, $13.95)
“And so farewell from your little droog. And to all others in this story profound shooms of lipmusic brrrrrr. And they can kiss my sharries. But you, O my brothers, remember sometimes thy little Alex that was. Amen. And all that cal.”

The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao by Junot Diaz
(Riverhead Books, $15.00)
“He wrote that he couldn’t believe he had to wait for this so goddamn long. (Yabón was the one who suggested calling the wait something else. Yeah, like what? Maybe, she said, you could call it life.) He wrote: So this is what everybody’s always talking about. Diablo! If only I’d known. The beauty! The beauty!”

The Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger
(Little Brown & Company, $6.99)
“If you want to know the truth, I don’t know what I think about it. I’m sorry I told so many people about it. About all I know is, I sort of miss everybody I told about. Even old Stradlater and Ackley for instance. I think I even miss that goddam Maurice. It’s funny. Don’t ever tell anybody anything. If you do, you start missing everybody.”

Their Eyes Were Watching God by Zora Neale Hurston
(Harper Perennial, $14.99)
“Here was peace. She pulled in her horizon like a great fish-net. Pulled it from around the waist of the world and draped it over her shoulder. So much of life in its meshes. She called in her soul to come and see.”

August 2010, Erica David

Poetic License Horoscope for August 20-26

Spending Warm Summer Days Indoors, Like the Smiths



Leo (July 24-Aug. 23): Once you pointed out that when the contestants on, say, The Next Food Network Star, are talking about how the camera makes them freeze up, they are, IN FACT talking to the camera, it kind of turned my world upside-down.

Virgo (Aug. 24-Sept. 23): Make no mistake: Sometimes we are all just Mad Men secretaries, crying in a Pond’s focus group about the fleetingness of the muse’s attention. Nothing to do but wash your face, smash a vase, and wait.

Libra (Sept. 24-Oct. 21): This week, inspired by the hack-bot that stole my email contacts, I am meditating on imperfection. Please take all implosions, sick days, and the way things are collapsing like an Inception cityscape as signs that the universe loves you and wants you to start fresh.

Scorpio (Oct. 22-Nov. 22): Last weekend I went camping with my family. One of the highlights was sitting around reading with my little niece. She was reading an incredibly well-loved copy of Harry Potter and the Order of the Pheonix. Love something/someone so much that the pages come out, the edges furl, the binding unglues, but the story is still legible.

Sagittarius (Nov. 23-Dec. 22): From Julia Cameron’s The Artist’s Way: “It is pretty clear that the creator itself did not know when to stop. There is not one pink flower, or even fifty pink flowers, but hundreds…this creator looks suspiciously like someone who just might send support for your creative ventures.”

Capricorn (Dec. 23-Jan. 20): In The New York Regional Mormon Singles Dance, Elna Baker hilariously weighs the dilemmas which arise between her secular self and her Mormon self. In the end, though, she can’t see the moon without saying “Hi, God.”

Aquarius (Jan. 21-Feb. 19): In Sloane Crosleys’ book I Was Told There’d Be Cake, she writes about working in the Museum of Natural History’s butterfly exhibit. Once, she didn’t check her coat well enough before clocking out—a tiny rare blue butterfly had ridden her lapel to freedom.

Pisces (Feb. 20-March 20): Feng Shui your life. Recycle you recyclables. Remove all old bosses, famous strangers, and nemeses from your email contacts. Return the stagnant Chi of unread library books.

Aries (March 21-April 18): Every time I watch The Real L Word, I think these three things: 1. This show is mostly about emptiness, and that’s okay. 2. I’m very grateful that my wife is accepted and loved as a member of my family. Shame on you, Tracy’s mom. 3. Natalie: run!

Taurus (April 19-May 18): One summer not too long ago, my friend Ty and I decided to fill plastic Easter eggs with various talismans: love notes, drawings, chess pieces, mini tarot cards, etc. We hid them all around the city of Syracuse, NY. Give random and unexpected gifts, preferably to strangers.

Gemini (May 19-June 21): My mom says that when she dreams about camping, it’s not the recreation, but the cooking. Try a new recipe for campfire eggs. Eat bacon out of a foil pan. Be flexible about what can be called coffee.

Cancer (June 22-July 23): Go to the stillest body of water you can find. Find some round, flat stones. Practice your skipping technique. Meditate on gravity, water, erosion.

Poetic License Horoscope, August 13 to August 20

Your Horoscopist Is Kind of an Emo Girl


(Thanks to Jake Lamanna, whose record collection this is.)



Leo (July 24-Aug. 23): This week is my wife’s birthday. I would like to give her all of her wishes: a comma in the bank balance, a job closer to home, time to rest. She’ll have to settle for Wednesday shows, cheesecake, and a nice long letter.

Virgo (Aug. 24-Sept. 23): Here’s some very practical advice: never go on the Facebook when you are feeling fragile. Everything you scroll past will look like a party you weren’t invited to. Worst of all, you’ll get comment-itis.

Libra (Sept. 24-Oct. 21): Look at all of the “Back to School” signs, all the emo commercials with mothers (always mothers) waving sadly at school busses. Take them as a sign that it’s time to purchase huge stacks of notebooks at discounted rates. I got my year’s worth, 10 for a dollar.

Scorpio (Oct. 22-Nov. 22): All you can see are sunsets, the lavender tint in the sky, the filigree of light at the edges of the clouds. Go ahead and let this be the end of something. It’s the sun. It generally comes up again.

Sagittarius (Nov. 23-Dec. 22): “It’s too late to change your mind. You let loss be your guide.” say the Broken Bells. I guess it’s as good a guide as any, though.

Capricorn (Dec. 23-Jan. 20): You are like the Map Collection Room at the Philadelphia Free Library; hundreds of wide, flat drawers with every possible expanse and measurement. Find your longitude and latitude.

Aquarius (Jan. 21-Feb. 19): I want to say once and for all that heartbreak is a terribly inefficient fuel for creativity. It burns up everything, bright and fast. It’s time find something more sustainable, if less sparky.

Pisces (Feb. 20-March 20): An old pal of mine posted a picture of his massive, hot, sexy record collection. Beneath that, another friend had sent a link to an episode of Hoarders. Decide what’s riches and what’s trash, before you get swallowed up.

Aries (March 21-April 18): The stars are taking requests this week, Aries. What would you like? Concert tickets? An opulent stroll through Longwood Gardens? An ill-advised dinner with an old flame? It’s up to you, and it’s all yours.

Taurus (April 19-May 18): Remember the episode of The Office where they’re all at the beach for some reason, and Pam does the firewalk? The adrenaline rush and burnt feet give her the courage to call out Jim in front of everybody for ignoring her. She kind of gives everyone the what for. Be like that.

Gemini (May 19-June 21): In her wonderful writing book Bird by Bird, Annie Lamott says “After a few days at the desk, telling the truth in an interesting way turns out to be as easy and pleasurable as bathing a cat.” But do it, no mater how much the truth wriggles and spits.

Cancer (June 22-July 23): You said my answering machine is a bad audience, but go ahead and tell it everything. I want to hear about the catch in your voice, the stitches in your chest, the wine under the bed. But I hope I have the phone on next time.

Quote: M.T. Anderson

Feed is a dramatic and disconcerting futuristic look at the pervasive effects of the media on our brains and on society, and I'm looking forward to discussing it at our September Young Adult Book Discussion (Thursday, September 23, 7pm). The following exhortation doesn't appear in the story; it's from an interview with the author in the back of the book:

    What would you say to kids today who are aware of being manipulated by the media? How can they avoid being sucked in?

    First of all, I know that going against the norm can be very isolating. When I was a teenager, I listened to really obscure music. In some ways that isolated me, because teens tend to watch and engage each other very, very harshly when it comes to questions of taste. In fact, I think musical taste among teenagers is often more about self-definition than it is about the actual music.
    Even so, I'm clearly in favor of trying to extend your knowledge into areas that are obscure and eccentric, as a way of exploring your self and your place in the world. Instead of responding to media messages by getting anxious -- thinking you need to get some piece of clothing that suddenly comes into fashion, or that you need to gain or lose weight or change your musculature in order to look like the romantic lead from some movie you've just seen -- start exploring all the peculiar corners of the world that are out there. Because that's the one thing the media does not encourage: a real sense of curiosity. Ultimately, in writing Feed, I wanted to say to kids who are already doubting what they see around them, "You already think in ways I'll never be capable of, and are dreaming things I can't conceive of. Keep it up. We're counting on you."

- M.T. Anderson, Feed, Reader's Guide

Poetic License Horoscope for August 6-12

Starring Arcade Fire, Dancing Sufis, and Don Draper


Leo (July 24-Aug. 23): This is your time to rest. Turn the volume down on your chattering spouse. Put aside all talk of revenue and email lists. Listen to the soft hum of fans, the murmur of televised baseball.

Virgo (Aug. 24-Sept. 23): You don’t have to be inspired every single minute. Relax. Reread old novels. Get caught up on your history. Take a nap in the blank spaces, you’ll be busy soon enough.

Libra (Sept. 24-Oct. 21): When I told one of my most favorite Libras that I was sad not to be at the National Poetry Slam this week, he told me he’d call my voice mail with disappointing poems so I’d feel less left out. It did make me feel better, but I still wish I was at Nationals.

Scorpio (Oct. 22-Nov. 22): The Arcade Fire song “Keep the Car Running” is a wonderfully paranoid song about always being vigilant, but as I continue my decades-long struggle to learn the clutch, the song sounds to me like a struggle-and-determination anthem/pep talk. “It’s coming but when/is it coming/ keep the car running.”

Sagittarius (Nov. 23-Dec. 22): The House on the Rock, outside Madison, WI not only contains the most berserk collection of calliopes, musical machines, models ships, crazy-looking Santa Clauses and so much more, it is also a labyrinth you can’t easily leave if you get claustrophobic. Stay calm and avoid the Doll Carousel. Just trust me.

Capricorn (Dec. 23-Jan. 20): You’ve been collecting sea monsters, and why shouldn’t you? I thought of you last month when I was photographed next to a giant squid. As we learned in the movie Inception, the unconscious is hard to control, least of all yours.

Aquarius (Jan. 21-Feb. 19): The other night while I was blissfully whoh-oh-ohing with thousands of fans at the Arcade Fire concert, I though of my Aquarius friend who’s visiting Istanbul right now, trying to get tickets to watch the Sufis dance, about how empathic experience helps keep life from becoming claustrophobic, just like having a well-travelled friend does.

Pisces (Feb. 20-March 20): In Nick Hornby’s book How to Be Good, the protagonist has the following epiphany: “The plain state of being human is dramatic enough for anyone; you don’t need to be a heroin addict or a performance poet to experience extremity. You just have to love someone.”

Aries (March 21-April 18): Last summer I worked at a summer camp. Every morning we had a singing and dancing time called Harambee (Swahili for “all together) during which no one was allowed to be shy. I thought this was unfair to introverts so I tried to add a meditation, quite unsuccessfully. But this week, be like those sing-alongs—belt it out, dance your heart out, never mind who might be laughing.

Taurus (April 19-May 18): It’s August, but on Mad Men, it’s Christmas. Mix yourself a holiday martini, pass an orange from chin to chin, engage in some secretarial role play. Walk around with you archetypal armload of gifts. Spare no expense.

Gemini (May 19-June 21): “Children wake up, hold your mistake up, before they turn the summer into dust.” says Arcade Fire. Mistakes can either disappear in the rearview or crack you open. Let’s confess and move onto the next thing, shall we?

Cancer (June 22-July 23): The beginning of this summer broiled my garden. The only flourishing things were the tenting spiders who seemed to be eating all the flowers. When the weather broke, though, everything started blooming again—now there are lobelias, red butterfly flowers, zinnias, and two Carefree Delight roses I can smell from inside.

-by Jane Cassady

Sheila's list of Five Mystery Series you might like if you like the Mary Russell/Sherlock Holmes series (The Beekeeper's Apprentice, etc.)

Laurie R. King's other series, featuring detective Kate Martinelli and set in contemporary San Francisco.
sample books: A Grave Talent, With Child, To Play the Fool

Jacqueline Winspear's Maisie Dobbs series, set in London after WWI, with Maisie practicing at the intersection of early psychotherapy and forensics.
sample books: Maisie Dobbs, An Incomplete Revenge, Among the Mad

Rennie Airth's John Madden series, set in the English countryside and wonderfully written, featuring a Scotland Yard detective-turned-farmer and his physician wife in the run-up to WWII.
books in the series so far: River of Darkness, The Blood-Dimmed Tide, and The Dead of Winter

Dorothy Sayers' classic Lord Peter Wimsey/Harriet Vane books. This series is a masterpiece of Britain's Golden Age of detective fiction.
sample books: Strong Poison, Have His Carcase, Gaudy Night, Busman's Honeymoon. (And featuring Lord Peter but not Harriet: The Nine Tailors.)

Phil Rickman's Merrily Watkins books combine a lively mix of the occult and supernatural, the folklore of the English/Welsh border, and the trials of single motherhood in the Anglican clergy.
sample books: Midwinter of the Spirit, Lamp of the Wicked, To Dream of the Dead

July 2010, Sheila Avelin

Erica’s Five Extraordinary Correspondences

I confess: I’m a snoop. I will go through the text messages on your cell phone. I will read your email and sift through your private papers. If you have a deep, dark secret, do not keep it in a shoebox in your closet. I will find it. Luckily, there is a literary genre that allows me to indulge my need to snoop: the epistolary novel. I can read other people’s fake letters and nobody gets hurt.

Griffin & Sabine: An Extraordinary Correspondence by Nick Bantock (Chronicle Books, $19.95)
The letter fetishist in me lives her guilty pleasure each and every time she slips between the covers of this beautifully written and illustrated book. The correspondence of the title characters is fastened to the pages allowing you to slip handwritten letters from their envelopes and hold them between your sweaty palms. Feel like both a god and a pervert as you examine the intimate letters of Griffin Moss, an isolated artist living in London, and Sabine Strohem, an unknown woman who, though thousands of miles away, can somehow see and experience his art as he creates it. Is she real or a figment of Griffin’s troubled imagination? “Foolish man,” Sabine writes, “You cannot turn me into a phantom because you are frightened.” Nothing like a quarrelsome muse to make you question your own sanity.

84, Charing Cross Road by Helene Hanff (Penguin, $13.00)
This book is the exception on the list in that the extraordinary correspondence within its pages is entirely real. While living in New York and working as both a playwright and screenwriter, the Philadelphia born Hanff, began writing to Marks & Co., Booksellers in London in search of hard-to-find books. What evolved was a twenty year correspondence between Hanff and the employees of Marks & Co., specifically Frank Doel, the reserved Englishman in charge of granting her literary requests. Hanff’s spirited letters betray her fine wit and dry sense of humor. She is a literary broad of the finest quality and it’s thrilling to witness her relationship with her friends across the Atlantic unfold from one letter to the next.

The Perks of Being a Wallflower by Stephen Chbosky (Simon & Schuster, $14.00)
Wallflower has been called many things ranging from cult classic to a coming of age story in the vein of The Catcher in the Rye, which the book itself references in passing. Neither of these descriptions does it justice for me. When you open the pages and immerse yourself in the letters of the titular wallflower, Charlie, what emerges is an unflinching portrait of a teenaged boy caught between passivity and the desire to “participate.” The novel is composed solely of Charlie’s letters addressed to an anonymous “Friend,” a one-way communication which leaves the reader to fill the other half of the correspondence. It’s an intimate and troubling role to fill as you witness Charlie’s struggle to engage not only the people around him, but his own personhood.

Ella Minnow Pea by Mark Dunn (Anchor Books, $14.00)
Say the title three times fast. Sound like a familiar sequence of letters? Letters, i.e., the individual characters which make up our alphabet, are of the utmost importance in Dunn’s pleasantly clever tale of the tiny island nation of Nollop, whose citizens find their speech increasingly restricted as the use of one letter after another is outlawed. Dunn’s characters savor language and it’s an absolute delight to read their missives and experience their struggle to preserve their right to write using each and every letter of the alphabet, even that “funny little letter” Z.

The Color Purple by Alice Walker (Houghton Mifflin, $14.95)
Walker’s Pulitzer Prize winning novel begins with Celie’s letters to God. It’s a tricky thing writing to God. I don’t know of anyone who has His address and chances are He won’t write back. But for Celie, there aren’t many who will stand as witness to the unflinching brutality of her life. Her forthright language does nothing to disguise the pain and violence of her existence, but she draws strength from the women around her (the indomitable Sofia, the scintillating Shug Avery) and discovers herself in the process. Celie’s beautiful, tender humanity unfolds in her letters through the stark, blunt honesty of her words.

July 2010, Erica David

Poetic License Horoscope: July 30- August 6

Writing Games Horoscope



(Note: Your horoscopist moonlights as Philadelphia’s Slam Mistress. This week’s horoscope will appear in The Fuze Anthology: The Phenomena of Temporary, which contains many local and national poetry favorites and benefits the Philly Slam Team’s trip to nationals. Come out and celebrate with us at The Fuze tonight, July 30, at 7:30 pm, InFusion Coffee and Tea, 7133 Germantown Ave. For more info contact turtleinkpress@gmail.com.)



Leo (July 24-Aug. 23): Listen to the Redwalls song “Thank You” and any other gratitude-themed songs you can think of. (Send me your list!) While you’re listening, draw a picture of someone you’re really, really grateful to. Make a detailed list of why, and give it to the person ASAP.



Virgo (Aug. 24-Sept. 23): Take out a copy of Blake’s “Songs of Innocence and Experience” Look up “The Tyger” and read it aloud. Draw a picture of your favorite animal. Paste it to a piece of construction paper. Beneath that, write all the things your animal could say, if it could speak.



Libra(Sept. 24-Oct. 21): Find yourself a shaman, or hope that one finds you. He or she will instruct you on how to visit the underworld and will probably drum while doing so. Find your power animal. Ask him or her what to write about.



Scorpio (Oct. 22-Nov. 22): (Props to Lynda Barry on this one!) Draw a diagram of the exact moment your heart was broken. Put yourself at the center of the page, draw/list what is above your, below you, etc. Sleep with this diagram under your pillow. Your dreams will digest it into a poem.



Sagittarius (Nov. 23-Dec. 22): Write down everything you overhear in the next 24 hours, paying special attention to the children on the bus. Their questions are your new gurus. Write religious texts on their behalf. Now print up tracts and stand on street corners circulating them.



Capricorn (Dec. 23-Jan. 20): Learn the names of 20 new butterflies. Write them little plays. Is the Blue Morpho hooked on the nectar again? What’s her relationship to the Tiger Mimic-Queen? Do they go out with Malachite for rotting fruit? What’s going on with Mexican Sister? (I could do this all day…)



Aquarius (Jan. 21-Feb. 19): Those love letters you keep getting? Print them out and cut them up lovingly, preferably with patterned craft shears. Rearrange them like refrigerator poetry. Glue up sheets of them so that passersby will feel adored but also confused. As always, bonus points for glitter.



Pisces (Feb. 20-March 20): Find an Office Max or similar store that’s going out of business. Buy up all the red pens at a steep discount. Use these to begin listing your gentlest memories, in order of their similarity to rose petals. Make these into origami roses to hand out to everyone you’d like to meet.



Aries: (March 21-April 18): Get a small notebook like comedians carry. Start collecting jokes, one-liners, funny status-updates, etc. After you’ve been collecting them for awhile, print them out on little slips. Sneak them into fortune cookies when nobody’s looking. Invite your true love out for Chinese food.



Taurus (April 19-May 18): Begin by making a list of all the friends you regret losing. Now make each one a mix tape whose songs explicitly express that regret. Mail out the mixes if you can stand to, wrapped in collages from back issues of Real Simple magazine. Translate your ex-friends’ responses into new poems.



Gemini (May 19-June 21): Set your timer for ten minutes. Make a list of all your lost loves. Doesn’t have to just be people. What about lost jobs, CDs, hats you lost in the mosh pits of your wayward youth. Go into detail about every facet and sting. You’ll feel better.


Cancer (June 22-July 23): What’s that thing that’s been pissing you off? Google “pantoum” and write about that pesky obsession- the rhythmic repetition gives you the go ahead to ruminate ruminate, ruminate! What a relief!

(Approximately) Five Books by People Jen Knows Outside of the Book Industry

The Carnival of the Animals, edited by Judith Chernaik, with CD by the Apollo Chamber Players, David Chernaik, conductor. (Candlewick Press, $16.99)
My aunt Judith is the creator of Poems on the Underground, posting poetry alongside advertisements on the London Underground since 1986. This illustrated version of “The Carnival of the Animals” has new poems penned by previously posted poets (plus my aunt) and illustrations by Satoshi Kitamura, with an orchestral CD conducted by my cousin David. With poems read in lovely British accents!

The Moonlight Mistress by Victoria Janssen (Harlequin Spice, $13.95)
My friend Victoria has published two entertainingly erotic novels with Harlequin Spice and has two more on the way. This one is historical, with a twist: werewolves during World War I. What could be more sexy?

The Teahouse Fire by Ellis Avery (Penguin, $15)
Nif’s friend Ellis won a Lambda Award for this intense novel, set in Japan just before widespread contact with the outside world, when cultural traditions turn upside down.

Yes Means Yes! Visions of Female Sexual Power & a World Without Rape, co-edited by Jaclyn Friedman and Jessica Valenti (Seal Press, $16.95)
Since we knew each other in college, Jaclyn has used her writing, performance, and activism to highlight messages about feminism, sexual assault, and sexual self-empowerment. A collection of powerful essays.

A Series of Unfortunate Events by Lemony Snicket
(HarperCollins, $12.99; early volumes available in paperback for $6.99)
If you’ve read the first few books of this series and stopped for fear they would become repetitive, I urge you to continue on: soon you will encounter the overarching story arc, intrigue about the author, and Sunny’s unstoppable progress with language. I had a lot of fun! (Technically, it’s not Lemony Snicket I know, but his nonfictional handler.)

July 2010, Jennifer Sheffield

Maleka's Five Poetry Collections to Sink Your Teeth Into

Grit and tender membrane by Samantha Barrow (Plan B Press, $13.95)
"I will be wearing the stench of celestial love in the morning"

The World is Round by Nikky Finney (InnerLight Publishing, $14.95)
"I turned around held up my shirt and brought my smooth belly into her scarred one; our navels pressing, making out some kind of new equatorial line."

What the Living Do by Marie Howe (Norton, $13.95)
"and I'm gripped by a cherishing so deep for my own blowing hair, chapped face, and unbuttoned coat that I'm speechless: I am living, I remember you."

The Republic of Poetry by Martin Espada (Norton, $13.95)
"I don't like to be still. I want to climb the steps at Macchu Picchu. I want to talk about poetry all night. I want more wine."

New and Selected Poems: Volume One by Mary Oliver (Beacon, $17.00)
"I don't want to end up simply having visited this world."

-July 2010, Maleka Fruean

Kasey's Top Five Picture Books for Grown-Ups

The Principles of Uncertainty by Maira Kalman (Penguin, $20.00)
The back of this book says it best: The Principles of Uncertainty is about "death, love, and candy (not necessarily in that order)." It's also a memoir, a philosophical treatise, and a travelogue, filled with whimsical, gorgeously colorful, not-like-anything-else illustrations. Read slowly and savor!

French Milk by Lucy Knisley (Touchstone Books, $15.00)
I'm not usually a fan of graphic novels, but I fell in love with French Milk the moment I opened it. Blending hand-written text with photographs and drawings, this memoir tells the story of the author's visit to France with her mother; it's a coming-of-age tale, a tribute to friendship (especially the mother-daughter variety), and a love letter to a country and a particular time in life, all in one.

A Year of Mornings: 3191 Miles Apart by Maria Alexandra Vattese and Stephanie Congdon Barnes (Princeton Architectural Press, $21.95)
This gorgeous book of photographs records moments in the lives of the two authors, both bloggers and both residents of Portland (one Maine, the other Oregon), who decided to take one picture before 10 a.m. each day for a year. Spending time with their photos, which often center on small domestic details like coffee cups and cats' tails, always encourages me to slow down and notice the incredible beauty in the everyday.

Make Your Place: Affordable, Sustainable Nesting Skills by Raleigh Briggs (Microcosm Publishing, $7.00)
This isn't really a picture book, but I'm including it because it's just as much fun to look at (a lot) as it is to read. Beautifully hand-lettered as well as hand-drawn, this book teaches you how to clean everything from your face to your floor using natural, non-toxic ingredients... and there's a great gardening section as well. Raleigh Briggs is an inspiration!

The Emigrants by W.G. Sebald (New Directions, $15.95)
One of the most haunting and memorable books I've ever read, The Emigrants is hard to describe. It's fiction, but reads like a memoir/family history/travelogue, and the text is accompanied by strange ghostly photographs that become impossible to separate from the magical experience of reading it. This is the sort of book that takes hold of you, gently but firmly, and won't let you go for a long, long time.

July 2010, Kasey Jueds

Five Six of Zivia's favorite books of mythology, folk tales, and gods and goddesses

The Serpent Slayer by Katrin Tchana, illustrated by Trina Schart Hyman
Stories of brave, clever, stalwart, and fierce women from all around the world, stirringly retold with rich illustrations by a mother-daughter team.

D'Aulaire's Book of Greek Myths and
D'Aulaire's Book of Norse Myths by Ingri and Edgar D'Aulaire
Wonderful compendiums of stories, with simple, accessible illustrations. A perfect start to a classic education.

Nelson Mandela's Favorite African Folktales,
chosen by Nelson Mandela
Stories from all around the continent, both classic and contemporary, each one retold and illustrated by a different team. The audiobook (available at emusic or iTunes) is also wonderful. An all-star collection in every format.

The Little Book of Hindu Deities by Sanjay Patel
Super-appealing, color-saturated pictures of each deity created by a Pixar-studio animator, each with an explanation of the god or goddess's place in the pantheon.

Trickster, edited by Matt Dembicki
Graphic-novel format retellings of trickster stories from different Native American storytellers, including traditions from across North America. (We're still waiting for this one to come in, but we're including it because it looks awesome!)

July 2010, Sheila and Zivia Avelin

Poetic License Horoscope for July 23-29

by Jane Cassady

A Little St. Teresa, Some Cross-Dressing, and a Lot of Sarah Silverman

Leo (July 24-Aug. 23): Well, it’s summer, which means that we are now a little bit sucked into Big Brother 12. I admire the set artists who set up elaborate games in the jerktestants’ backyard. Be the kind of evil genius who’d make people crawl through caramel and then dig through popcorn for the prize of running the house.


Virgo (Aug. 24-Sept. 23): In her wonderful memoir, The Bedwetter: Stories of Courage, Redemption, and Pee, Sarah Silverman described her childhood depression as “I felt homesick, but I was home.” Love the things that mean home to you. Kiss your vintage pitchers and cuddle the couch pillows. Don’t be in a hurry to clean up after parties.


Libra (Sept. 24-Oct. 21): Yesterday I spent the better part of a day trying to track down a lost library book. Last night, when the house cooled down enough to think, I sat down for a nice long session of bill-paying, paper-shredding, and checkbook-balancing. Cross-dress as a Virgo this week. Have my kind of fun!


Scorpio (Oct. 22-Nov. 22): Write a love song to your résumé. Praise your font choice, your years of experience concisely listed, your leaving off the phone numbers of mean people. Holy crap, you’ve accomplished some stuff.


Sagittarius (Nov. 23-Dec. 22): St. Teresa of Avila wrote: “All concepts of God are like a jar we break, because only the infinite can contain our perfect love.” Prepare for everything you love to come streaming through the windows like sunlight, scattering prisms.


Capricorn (Dec. 23-Jan. 20): Ride the busses for their air-conditioning. See the whole city grid, the theatre production of public transportation. Let your guard down and get chatty. Ride to the end of the line.


Aquarius (Jan. 21-Feb. 19): I had a dance party last weekend and my friend’s band played. I can’t even put into words how happy I was when he revealed a Lady Gaga costume and sang “Paparazzi.” Not only did I appreciate the work that went into learning one of my favorite songs, but he’d been hiding tights and gold Spanx underneath his jeans through half a set, in a sweltering apartment. Have that much commitment to your art—and your friends!


Pisces (Feb. 20-March 20): Start collecting envelopes of all sizes, stamps of every denomination. Be as mail-prolific as semi-outsider artist Ray Johnson. List off your garden. Send stickers and music. We’re all waiting like mail slots.


Aries (March 21-April 18): I read somewhere that if you leave your stuff with someone, you are trying to make sure you see that person again. Leave important belongings everywhere: your camera in strange living rooms, your car on little side streets, your shoes in mysterious doorways. Almost anything could happen.


Taurus (April 19-May 18): Be beautifully, snugglishly silly this week. Listen to the funny things that people say and say them louder. Tell your whole arsenal of jokes. Stage competitive dramatic readings of pop songs. Flip a coin to see who wins.


Gemini (May 19-June 21): Enjoy this quote from my memoir-crush of the week, Sarah Silverman: “A lot of comics think the real threat of mental blockage lies in being happy. They fear that happiness or just dealing with their shit might make them not funny anymore. To me, that’s a bunch of romanticized bullshit.” Let’s do it, Gemini. Let’s get what we want and take our art with us.


Cancer (June 22-July 23): (Again with the Sarah Silverman!) She says that her overarching philosophy of life is “Make it a treat.” She tries not to overindulge in things she loves, so she won’t get sick of them. She’s talking about marijuana and fart jokes, but I believe it could be applied to anything.

Quote: Gail Carriger

    "Alexia finished her repast, gathered up her dispatch case, her latest parasol, and her long woolen coat, and wandered out the front door.
    "Only to discover exactly where everyone had gone--outside onto the sweeping front lawn that led up to the cobbled courtyard of the castle. They had managed to multiply themselves, don attire of a military persuasion, and, for some reason known only to their tiny little werewolf brains, proceed to engage in setting up a considerable number of large canvas tents. This involved the latest in government-issue self-expanding steam poles, boiled in large copper pots like so much metal pasta. Each one started out the size of a spyglass before the heat caused it to suddenly expand with a popping noise. As was the general military protocol, it took far more soldiers than it ought to stand around watching the poles boil, and when one expanded, a cheer erupted forth. The pole was grasped between a set of leather potholders and taken off to a tent."

--Gail Carriger, Changeless, an Alexia Tarrabotti novel.

Soulless, Changeless, and the upcoming Blameless are part of the Parasol Protectorate series, a lovely alternate history and comedy of manners set in Victorian England. Supernaturals such as werewolves and vampires, who carry an apparent excess of soul, are fully integrated into English society, but much less is known about preternaturals, those apparently born without a soul and known for negating supernatural powers with a touch. Alexia Tarrabotti is one such preternatural, practical and with no patience for nonsense. Or for large officious werewolves. And yet so much nonsense comes to call...

Janet's Five Books: Beach Reads for Each Age

A Beachcomber's Odyssey by S. Deacon Ritterbush, Ph.D.
(Ritz Dotter, $39.95)
Filled with exceptional photographs (taken by Megan Elyse Lloyd who was working at a 24 hour drive through photo lab at the time), A Beachcomber's Odyssey is a tribute to the Zen of attentively strolling the shore line, eyes lowered, searching without expectation for the next treasure. Between photographs are memoirs to the healing properties of water and nature.

Bike Snob by Christopher Koelle (Chronicle Books, $16.95)
We all know the value of laughing at ourselves and the material items we often take so seriously. I especially liked Chapter Three which includes the "various subsets of cyclists". My sister-in-law just began training for a 50 mile charity ride. She doesn't know what make her bike is, how to work the gears, but she does knows that the bike is red. She's my kind of cyclist. I sent her the book.

Suite Scarlett by Maureen Johnson (Scholastic, $8.99)
Enjoy the eccentricity of the Martin family who own and manage a failing hotel in New York City. Each character is brought to life by Johnson's elegant description. Endearing is the deep love and understanding of each member of the family towards one another. Suite Scarlett was the Young Adult Book Discussion choice for June. The cover is a brilliant RED.

A Couple of Boys Have the Best Week Ever by Marla Frazee (Harcourt, $16.00)
Eamon and his best friend, James, go to a week of "nature camp" which means a week with Eamon's grandparents who live on the beach. Your child will love the adventures, meals and simple acceptance and love that create the best week ever. Store legend has it that the day this book arrived was the first day that I sat down (to read) at the store.
[Editor's note: This book is also one of Mo's Staycation Picks this month.]

Be Happy by Monica Sheehan (Simon and Schuster, $7.99)
A small price to pay for simple and wise advise in the guise of a board book. Be Happy is sweetly illustrated with a juggling dog.

July 2010, Janet Elfant

Anatole's Five All-Time Favorite Books about Mice (by Claudia)

As you know from my Happy Go Lucky picks in April, I share my life with a furry companion named Anatole. Anatole is not only a handsome and smart and compassionate and wise and most loving and and and ... cat; like his owner he appreciates books, especially the ones that tell a good mouse story. Celeste, Chrysanthemum, Frederick, Cookie mouse and Babymouse became treasured friends, and the cozy illustrations and humorous language make us purr with delight.

So let's daydream into the summer with Anatole’s mice friends.

A Nest for Celeste by Henry Cole (HarperCollins, $16.99)

Chrysanthemum by Kevin Henkes (William Morrow, $6.99)

If You Give a Mouse a Cookie by Laura Joffe Numeroff (HarperCollins, $16.99)

Frederick by Leo Lionni (Random House, $6.99)

Babymouse by Jennifer L. Holmes and Matthew Holm (Random House, $5.95)

July 2010, Claudia Vesterby

Mo's Five Staycation Picks

Arrive without traveling--have a staycation with a book. Here are five that I enjoy.

A Couple of Boys Have the Best Week Ever by Marla Frazee (Houghton Mifflin, $16)

Assassination Vacation by Sarah Vowell (Simon and Schuster, $15)

The Splendid Table's How to Eat Supper: Recipes, Stories, and Opinions From Public Radio's Award-Winning Food Show by Lynne Rossetto Kasper (Clarkson Potter, $35.00)

How to Be An Explorer of the World: Portable Art Life Museum by Keri Smith (Penguin, $14.95)
[Editor's note: This book is also one of Maleka's May picks.]

You Are Here: Personal Geographies and Other Maps of the Imagination by Katherine Harmon (Princeton Architectural Press, $24.95)

July 2010, Mo Speller

Poetic License Horoscope for July 16-22

Poetic License Horoscope by Jane Cassady

With Advice from Lady Gaga, William Carlos Williams, and Band of Horses

Cancer (June 22-July 23): Once, during my Orange County days, my friend Jaimes was driving me home on the 405 when the dash lights started flickering. He got us safely to a gas station before the alternator died. He then proceeded to get out of the car and yell angrily skywards, asking God why this had happened. Rage against unfairness this week. Stamp your foot.

Leo (July 24-Aug. 23): Never get a couch that needs a slipcover. You will spend all of your time arranging the fabric to try and cover up the spots and stains. Get something that’s good and beautiful all the way through. Your ass deserves it!


Virgo (Aug. 24-Sept. 23): Since your deepest desire is to be confided in, practice keeping confidences. Sew whispers and secrets into your coat like satin patches. It’s a little warm for this.

Libra (Sept. 24-Oct. 21): You like parties with lots of costumes. Next year you’ll be my date for the Steampunk World’s Fair, “A Three Day Expedition into Yesterday’s Future!” Start buiding yourself a copper shell, lit with glowsticks. Meanwhile, Halloween is mere months away—start boning the corsets, building the scaffold.


Scorpio (Oct. 22-Nov. 22): I believe in haircuts. Lay back and let a stranger shampoo you. When the scissoring begins, let each strand represent a mistake you’d like to forget. Someone will sweep them away.


Sagittarius (Nov. 23-Dec. 22): Your viral video of the week is “Yosemitebear Mountain Giant Double Rainbow 1-8-10.”(sic) Go camping by yourself and show enough awe to rival early American wilderness painters. It’s almost a triple rainbow. It goes all the way across the sky. What it means is that you’ll have everything.

Capricorn (Dec. 23-Jan. 20): I bought a poetry collection called The Art of Losing: Poems of Grief and Healing. I’m surprisingly giddy to read it. Let’s open up to a random page, shall we? “If you can bring nothing to this place/but your carcass, keep out.” (William Carlos Williams)

Aquarius (Jan. 21-Feb. 19): In The Golden Compass, Lyra, the heroine, reads archetypal symbols said Golden Compass to plan out her next move. Here are your symbols, Aquarius: The Key, The Notebook, The Butterfly, The Giant Squid.


Pisces (Feb. 20-March 20): Please enjoy this quote from Lady Gaga’s latest Rolling Stone interview: “When you work as hard as I do or you resign yourself to something like music or art or something, you have to commit yourself to the struggle and commit yourself to the pain. And I commit myself wholeheartedly to my heartbreak…It’s a representation of my work. As artists, we are eternally heartbroken.” Discuss.


Aries (March 21-April 18): Interviewer Lynn Hirschberg apparently makes a habit of coaxing rock stars into ordering French fries fried in truffle oil, then using that as an example of how bougie they are. Don’t let anybody tell your story like that. Be like M.I.A. and release a retaliatory single. Or two.

Taurus (April 19-May 18): I think I need to use my weekly So You Think You Can Dance time for something else. Mia Michaels’ phlegmatic alterna-sniping is no match for Mary Murphy shrieking about the Hot Tamale Train. It’s just not so fun anymore!

Gemini (May 19-June 21): Here are some great lyrics from the Band of Horses song “Factory”: “Now then later, I was thinking it over by the snack machine/I thought about you and a candy bar/The Now and Laters, now that I've got, stuck between my teeth/
I fell asleep to the greatest movie of the year” Do just that kind of motel ruminating.

Poetic License Horoscopes for July 9-15

Mix-Tape Obsessed Again! by Jane Cassady



(This week's picture is courtesy of the wonderful Rosanna Speller.)

Cancer: A favorite couple of mine sent a care package not too long ago. It included a blue glitter framed hand mirror, a box of fancy chocolates, a ticket to a Cirque du Soleil “Love” performance that they went to on my birthday, and TWENTY EIGHT CDs.If you send someone 28 CDs, some of them are bound to be exactly what that person needed.



Leo: Here’s an inadvisable way to be happy: they say you get a serotonin boost every time you correct someone. Go ahead, my darling backseat driver, use the imaginary brake on the passenger side, look back with me when I change lanes. Just don’t be surprised when I ask you to parallel park for me.



Virgo: It’s weird dancing to eighties hip-hop songs at a respectful distance. I feel a little lonely if folks aren’t all up in my proverbial business. Surrender to whatever it is that makes you cross boundaries. It’s probably the bassline.



Libra: A friend of mine once asked for my address so he could send me a mix, then liked said mix so much that he kept it, listened to it in the car, had LeTigre sing alongs with his little daughter. I know this because he sent me a poem about the mix he didn’t send. I feel like a millionaire just typing this story.



Scorpio: Interrupt the conversation to point out the birds you see. “OOH look, a tufted titmouse!” is really fun to say. Shush your best friend so you can hear the first notes of a song: some things are just worth it.



Sagittarius: A Sag pal who works in a preschool complains about her students not needing her enough. “They’re all just privileged princes and princesses.” But everyone needs care, Sagittarius. Even you.



Capricorn: We’re both writing memoirs, but yours is braver. While mine is hidden on the desktop in a folder marked “My Issues,” yours is on display for all to see. So brave, Capricorn. You’re winning.



Aquarius: You told me not to worry about being too old for the club, because we’re all made mostly of water, and water's really old, and the atoms that make up the water are even older than that. So sensible. I love songs about how everything’s all really one thing.



Pisces: “Conscientiousness is no friend of serendipity.” Says Psychology Today. Kurt Vonnegut said “I tell you, we are here on Earth to fart around, and don't let anybody tell you different.” So do it: dawdle in doorways, pick up conversations with pretty strangers, click on unnecessary links: it’ll make you luckier!



Aries: This week, my dad moved back from Iowa to live closer to his kids and grandkids. Pack up your metaphorical car this week, Aries, move closer to what you love, even if it means braving the lake-effect winters of Upstate New York.



Taurus: Nobody really goes to their high-school reunion, so make a real one for yourself. Get together your nineties Club Kids and spare no glitter. There must still be a coffeehouse somewhere for Xers to slack in. Make a scrapbook of all your old mosh pits and vintage dresses. (Note: Your horoscopist knows she’s dating herself.)



Gemini: I’m making you SO MANY cupcakes this week, Gemini. Not from scratch, but still. The act of scooping a can of frosting into a bowl, beating it on high to froth it up, and adding just the right amount of food coloring: that’s the sprinkled alchemy we need this week. I keep forgetting and then remembering.