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mental invalid

cause I can tell that we are going to be friends.......ROB

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Free Will Astrology

horoscopes for week of November 20, 2003

 

Aries (March 21-April 19)

 

To prepare you for your upcoming encounters with inexpressible mystery, I offer you the words of Alexander Solzhenitsyn from his Nobel Prize acceptance speech. "Not everything has a name," he said. "Some things lead us into a realm beyond words . . . to revelations unattainable by reason. It is like that small mirror in fairy tales -- you glance in it and what you see is not yourself; for an instant you glimpse the Inaccessible, where no magic carpet can take you. And the soul cries out for it."

 

 

Taurus (April 20-May 20)

 

"Do one thing that scares you every day," counsels novelist Kurt Vonnegut. That's easy for a risk-loving Scorpio like him to say, but is it good advice for you Tauruses, who typically thrive on peace and safety? At most other times, I would say no; I'd suggest you force yourself to face your fears no more than once a month. But the coming weeks are shaping up as a departure from your usual rhythms. You can do a lot to ensure your long-term peace and safety through regular encounters with unpredictable experiences that will scare up your hidden reserves of courage.

 

 

 

Gemini (May 21-June 20)

 

At one point in Steve Martin's novella, The Pleasure of My Company, the main character Daniel says: "The real me and a false one were competing against each other." San Francisco Chronicle reviewer David Kipen comments that "You could easily read the whole novella as the story of this competition between real and false Daniels." I think we can apply a similar description to your adventures in the coming weeks, Gemini: The deep, genuine version of you will be struggling for supremacy with the artificial, fragmented one.

 

 

 

Cancer (June 21-July 22)

 

"Dear Mr. Brezsny: I'm a feminist in a post-feminist era, a warrior poet when poetry is considered irrelevant in war, and a lone wolf amidst yapping coyotes. I've been a firefighter, journalist, and janitor -- and damn good at all three, not that anybody noticed. My questions are: Why is my success with men like that of a goat trying to herd trucks? Why is the only luck I ever have the 'avoided the falling piano at the last second' kind? Are there any cake raffle winnings in my future? -Anti-Heroic Crab"

Dear Anti-Heroic: The mournful conditions you described will take a turn for the better when you devote a concentrated time to becoming emotionally self-sufficient. During that period, vow to draw all the love you need from either yourself or whatever passes for God or Goddess in your world. Now would be the perfect moment to begin.

 

 

 

 

Leo (July 23-August 22)

 

Clarissa Pinkola Estes is a psychotherapist and cantadora, "a keeper of the old stories." She believes that feeding the soul with nourishing tales is a great healing art. And what constitutes a "nourishing" tale? Her repertoire is filled with myths and fairy tales that "cut fine wide doors in previous blank walls, openings that lead to the dreamland, that lead to love and learning, that lead us back to our own real lives." I advise you to get some of this good stuff, Leo. Feast on unpredictable stories that replenish your innocence and rekindle your sense of wonder. Estes' book, Women Who Run With the Wolves, has some good ones. Try "Skeleton Woman" or "Sealskin, Soulskin."

 

 

 

Virgo (August 23-September 22)

 

"Charlie's Angels" star Cameron Diaz, born under the sign of Virgo, hates to give autographs to fans. She's so notorious that Autograph Collector magazine named her the least approachable celebrity entertainer. Another Virgo luminary, Shannon Elizabeth, was ranked right behind Diaz in her stinginess. To redeem your tribe's reputation, I urge you to give away your autograph to anyone and everyone in the coming week. Such a generous display would also dovetail nicely with the astrological omens, which suggest you should engage in playful acts that make you feel like a star.

 

 

Libra (September 23-October 22)

 

Many plants used for prescription drugs originate in tropical rainforests. Do their endangered ecosystems therefore harbor other healing herbs that are as yet undiscovered? Probably. But a recent study suggests that weeds growing in easily accessible places near human settlements may be an equally important source of medicine. The Journal of Ethnopharmacology reports that the Highland Mayans of Chiapa "rely almost exclusively on disturbed areas for medicinal plants, even in communities that are adjacent to stands of primary forest." I offer up this intriguing scenario as an apt metaphor for you in the coming days. The best goodies are more likely to be close at hand in the midst of familiar clutter, not in far-off enclaves of peace and plenty. (Thanks to www.eurekalert.org for this info.)

 

 

Scorpio (October 23-November 21)

 

To supply the newsprint for the average Sunday edition of the New York Times, about 63,000 trees must die. Is that a worthy sacrifice? Maybe. To keep your body fueled with caffeine for a year, upwards of a thousand plants must give up their lives. Is that a worthy sacrifice? Possibly. To make sure your freshly hatched dream will ultimately reach full bloom, at least three of your tired old illusions will have to croak. Is that a worthy sacrifice? Hell, yes. Let the mercy killing begin.

 

 

 

Sagittarius (November 22-December 21)

 

You're not awakening from a coma or anesthesia; it's not quite that dramatic. But the effect will be similar. Events you've been blind to will suddenly become visible. You'll become a magnet for clues you've been repelling. Your emotional numbness will recede, allowing a flood of feelings to come rushing into your awareness. The net effect, at least initially, may be confusing: You'll be filled up with too much information too fast to make sense of it. But be patient and concentrate on digesting the glut, Sagittarius, and by this time next week the mess will have evolved into a web of fresh insights.

 

 

 

Capricorn (December 22-January 19)

 

"I go through the canned-goods department of my soul," mused columnist Jon Carroll, "and I write down how many cubes of spiritual bouillon I have left." I suggest you take a similar tack this week, Capricorn. In other words, add a touch of self-mocking frivolity as you make a profound inventory of your current relationship with the Great Mystery. And be sure to mix in a few wacky, winsome questions with your heartfelt yearning for deeper understanding. Here's how Carroll expressed it: "Who am I? Why am I here? Is there an entity greater than myself? If there is, how can I get it to like me?"

 

 

Aquarius (January 20- February 18)

 

"Satan is broke!" declared a recent article in the Weekly World News. "He's selling back souls at half price to avoid bankruptcy." On the face of it, this is an amusing riff dreamed up by one of the comic geniuses who writes for the notorious tabloid. But oddly enough, there is a metaphorical grain of truth in it. The astrological omens suggest that a huge window of opportunity has opened for those who need redemption. It is a favorable moment for lost souls to find themselves, for black sheep and prodigal sons to return to the fold, and for incorrigible troublemakers to mend their ways. I'm letting you know, Aquarius, because your tribe, more than any of the other signs, is in the best position to facilitate rehabilitations and restorations of all kinds -- both for others and for yourself.

 

 

Pisces (February 19-March 20)

 

"I've finally got my relationship problem figured out," wrote Melinda, a reader from Philadelphia. "It has been a lifelong, insidious misunderstanding of what I'm entitled to, combined with a fear of abandonment that has made me grab onto the wrong companions." I bring this testimony to your attention, Pisces, because I think it resonates with realizations you're ready for. The coming months will be a favorable time for you to discern the hidden karma that has been keeping you from getting the love you want. A good way to begin your search will be to take inventory of your fear of abandonment and your misunderstanding of what you're entitled to.

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"The deep, genuine version of you will be struggling for supremacy with the artificial, fragmented one."

 

 

 

stay tuned, we will have live footage from the front lines of roe's ego....

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Ok, awesome, I'm a Leo... still, yes. Anyone want to tell me some good stories?

 

Btw, I like how these "Rob" horoscopes are, alot of the times, kinda abstract... like it's hard to just point out something in it that screams "bullshit".... good work, as always, Mental.

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Originally posted by mental invalid

Virgo (August 23-September 22)

 

"Charlie's Angels" star Cameron Diaz, born under the sign of Virgo, hates to give autographs to fans. She's so notorious that Autograph Collector magazine named her the least approachable celebrity entertainer. Another Virgo luminary, Shannon Elizabeth, was ranked right behind Diaz in her stinginess.

 

 

bitchez

and hoez

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Guest imported_Tesseract

!@#$%, i think rob is telling you to bo bombing tonight....autographs all over the place.

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Guest imported_Tesseract

Word, theres this saying here "A man has to be carefull about where he puts two things, his signature and his dick" After i started writing it started sound really weird...

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if it aint abstract then i dont want nothing to do with it...

 

 

shit shouldnt be handed to you on a platter.......

 

 

there have been plenty of times when i either had to break out the dictionary or search the web for the references he makes...

 

 

i like it that way....

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Originally posted by Tesseract

Word, theres this saying here "A man has to be carefull about where he puts two things, his signature and his dick" After i started writing it started sound really weird...

 

how apropos.

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Guest

nice... I can buy my soul back for half price!

 

 

Onionscope Rob

 

 

 

 

------------------

 

Aries: (March 21—April 19)

You fail to understand the primordial mystery of the funk: You can still have it no matter how many times you give it up.

 

Taurus: (April. 20—May 20)

You'll win the lottery, but it's not one of those cool lotteries that decides who lives and who dies.

 

Gemini: (May 21—June 21)

Your theory that everyone looks good in pantsuits should probably be amended to include recent data obtained by your mirror.

 

Cancer: (June 22—July 22)

Your habit of falling back on arguments of constitutionality during every debate won't help decide whose turn it is to take the garbage out.

 

Leo: (July 23—Aug. 22)

It has been said that power is the ultimate aphrodisiac, but there are other reasons why Jenny is sleeping with her assistant manager and not you.

 

Virgo: (Aug. 23—Sept. 22)

You're aware that life isn't a nice, sweet fairy tale. That said, it's about time you get to the sex and drugs.

 

Libra: (Sept. 23—Oct. 23)

There are some vital, useful ideas in Ayn Rand's Atlas Shrugged, but you shouldn't apply them to home decorating.

 

Scorpio: (Oct. 24—Nov. 21)

You're proud to have been cited by several important scientists, even if it was as an example of the potential "gray goo" problems in nanotechnology.

 

Sagittarius: (Nov. 22—Dec. 21)

Everyone has potentially fatal flaws, but yours involve a love of soldiers' wives, an insatiable thirst for whiskey, and the seven weak points in your left ventricle.

 

Capricorn: (Dec. 22—Jan. 19)

It's not too late for you to learn new tricks in the bedroom, but it's too sad and disgusting to even think about.

 

Aquarius: (Jan. 20—Feb. 18)

All things considered, you have a hard time believing that on-base percentage alone could be the answer to success in baseball.

 

Pisces: (Feb. 19—March 20)

There's no law that tells people whom they can and can't love in this world, but you're doing everything in your power to convince legislators to change that.

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Guest beardo

that doesnt sound good

i really dont want to permanently move back to NM

haha

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Scorpio (October 23-November 21)

 

To supply the newsprint for the average Sunday edition of the New York Times, about 63,000 trees must die. Is that a worthy sacrifice? Maybe. To keep your body fueled with caffeine for a year, upwards of a thousand plants must give up their lives. Is that a worthy sacrifice? Possibly. To make sure your freshly hatched dream will ultimately reach full bloom, at least three of your tired old illusions will have to croak. Is that a worthy sacrifice? Hell, yes. Let the mercy killing begin.

 

 

cool

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Originally posted by Kilo7-

 

Pisces: (Feb. 19—March 20)

There's no law that tells people whom they can and can't love in this world, but you're doing everything in your power to convince legislators to change that.

 

well i'll be damned..

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Originally posted by Swiffer Jet

well i'll be damned..

 

 

Jesus Christ swif, they aren't gonna let you fuck dogs. Stop asking.

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Guest HESHIANDET
Originally posted by ROB

Free Will Astrology

horoscopes for week of November 20, 2003

 

Capricorn (December 22-January 19)

 

"I go through the canned-goods department of my soul," mused columnist Jon Carroll, "and I write down how many cubes of spiritual bouillon I have left." I suggest you take a similar tack this week, Capricorn. In other words, add a touch of self-mocking frivolity as you make a profound inventory of your current relationship with the Great Mystery. And be sure to mix in a few wacky, winsome questions with your heartfelt yearning for deeper understanding. Here's how Carroll expressed it: "Who am I? Why am I here? Is there an entity greater than myself? If there is, how can I get it to like me?"

 

 

im high and watching a 3 some between writers you guys would dick suck.....

 

how does this horoscope work out??

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Guest Pilau Hands
Originally posted by mental invalid

The coming months will be a favorable time for you to discern the hidden karma that has been keeping you from getting the love you want. A good way to begin your search will be to take inventory of your fear of abandonment and your misunderstanding of what you're entitled to.

AYROJOMGWTFX?!

good questions, don't think i can answer them though

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my horoscope was an advertisement for a book of stories...

 

that the horoscope was telliing me to buy and then it recommended stories to read...

 

and then the baby waved at me.

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Sealskin, Soulskin

(January 20, 2003 ~ 11:25 AM PST) By LadyIrvin

 

 

 

My favorite translation by Clarissa Pinkola Estes. Enjoy.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

During a time that once was, is now gone forever, and will come back again soon, there is day after day of white sky, white snow . . . and all the tiny specks in the distance are people or dogs or bear.

 

 

 

Here, nothing thrives for the asking. The winds blow hard so the people have come to wear their parkas and mamleks, boots, sideways on purpose now. Here, words freeze in the open air, and whole sentences must be broken from the speaker's lips and thawed at the fire so people can see what has been said. Here, the people live in the white and abundant hair of old Annuluk, the old grandmother, the old sorceress who is Earth herself. And it was in this land that there lived a man . . . a man so lonely that over the years, tears had carved great chasms into his cheeks.

 

 

 

He tried to smile and be happy. He hunted. He trapped and he slept well. But he wished for human company. Sometimes out in the shallows in his kayak when a seal came near he remembered the old stories about how seals were once human, and the only reminder of that time was their eyes, which were capable of portraying those looks, those wise and wild and loving looks. And sometimes then he felt such a pang of loneliness that tears coursed down the well-used cracks in his face.

 

 

 

One night he hunted past dark but found nothing. As the moon rose in the sky and the ice floes glistened, he came to a great spotted rock in the sea, and it appeared to his keen eye that upon the old rock there was movement of the most graceful kind.

 

 

 

He paddled slow and deep to be closer, and there atop the mighty rock danced a small group of women, naked as the first day they lay upon their mothers' bellies. Well, he was a lonely man, with no human friends but in memory -- and he stayed and watched. The women were like beings made of moon milk, and their skin shimmered with little silver dots like those on the salmon in springtime, and the women's feet and hands were long and graceful.

 

 

 

So beautiful were they that the man sat stunned in his boat, the water lapping, taking him closer and closer to the rock. he could hear the magnificent women laughing . . . at least they seemed to laugh, or was it the water laughing at the edge of the rock? The man was confused, for he was so dazzled. But somehow the loneliness that had weighed on his chest like wet hide was lifted away, and almost without thinking, as though he was meant, he jumped up onto the rock and stole one of the sealskins laying there. He hid behind an outcropping and he pushed the sealskin into his qutnguq, parka.

 

 

 

Soon, one of the women called in a voice that was the most beautiful he'd ever heard . . . like the whales calling at dawn . . . or no, maybe it was more like the newborn wolves tumbling down in the spring . . . or but, well no, it was something better than that, but it did not matter because . . . what were the women doing now?

 

 

 

Why, they were putting on their sealskins, and one by one the seal women were slipping into the sea, yelping and crying happily. Except for one. The tallest of them searched high and searched low for her sealskin, but it was nowhere to be found. The man felt emboldened -- by what, he did not know. He stepped from the rock, appealing to her, "Woman . . . be . . . my . . . wife. I am . . . a lonely . . . man."

 

 

 

"Oh, I cannot be wife," she said, "for I am of the other, the ones who live temequanek, beneath."

 

 

 

"Be . . . my . . . wife," insisted the man. "In seven summers, I will return your sealskin to you, and you may stay or you may go as you wish."

 

 

 

The young seal woman looked long into his face with eyes that but for her true origins seemed human. Reluctantly she said, "I will go with you. After seven summers, it shall be decided."

 

 

 

So in time they had a child, whom they named Ooruk. And the child was lithe and fat. In winter, the mother told Ooruk takes of the creatures that lived beneath the sea while the father whittled a bear in whitestone with his long knife. When his mother carried the child Ooruk to bed, she pointed out through the smoke hole to the clouds and all their shapes. Except instead of recounting the shapes of raven and bear and wolf, she recounted the stories of walrus, whale, seal, and salmon . . . for those were the creatures she knew.

 

 

 

But as time went on, her flesh began to dry out. First it flaked, then it cracked. The skin of her eyelids began to peel. The hairs of her head began to drop to the ground. She became naluaq, palest white. Her plumpness began to wither. She tried to conceal her limp. Each day her eyes, without her willing it so, became more dull. She began to put out her hand in order to find her way, for her sight was darkening.

 

 

 

And so it went until one night when the child Ooruk was awakened by shouting and sat upright in his sleeping skins. He heard a roar like a bear that was his father berating his mother, he heard a crying like silver rung on stone that was his mother.

 

 

 

"You hid my sealskin seven long years ago, and now the eighth winter comes. I want what I am made of returned to me," cried the seal woman.

 

 

 

"And you, woman, would leave me if I gave it to you," boomed the husband.

 

 

 

"I do not know what I would do. I only know I must have what I belong to."

 

 

 

"And you would leave me wifeless, and the boy motherless. You are bad."

 

 

 

And with that her husband tore the hide flap of the door aside and disappeared into the night.

 

 

 

The boy loved his mother much. He feared losing her and so cried himself to sleep . . . only to be awakened by the wind. A strange wind . . . it seemed to call to him, "Oooruk, Ooorukkkk."

 

 

 

And out of bed he climbed, so hastily that he put his parka on upside down and pulled his mukluks only halfway up. Hearing his name called over and over, he dashed out into the starry, starry night.

 

 

 

"Oooooooorukkk."

 

 

 

The boy scrambled down the cliff and stumbled at the bottom over a stone -- no, a bundle -- that had rolled out of a cleft in the rock. The boy's hair lashed at his face like a thousand reins of ice.

 

 

 

"Oooooooorukkk."

 

 

 

The boy scratched open the bundle and shook it out -- it was his mother's sealskin. Oh, and he could smell her all through it. And as he hugged the sealskin to his face and inhaled her scent, her soul slammed through him like a sudden summer wind.

 

 

 

"Ohhh," he cried with pain and joy, and lifted the skin again to his face and again her soul passed through his. "Ohhh," he cried again, for he was being filled with the unending love of his mother.

 

 

 

And the old silver seal way out . . . sank slowly beneath the water.

 

 

 

The boy climbed the cliff and ran toward home with the sealskin flying between him, and into the house he fell. His mother swept him and the skin up and closed her eyes in gratitude for the safety of both.

 

 

 

She pulled on her sealskin, "Oh, mother, no!" cried the child.

 

 

 

She scooped up the child, tucked him under her arm, and half ran and half stumbled toward the roaring sea.

 

 

 

"Oh, mother, don't leave me!" Ooruk cried.

 

 

 

And at once you could tell she wanted to stay with her child, she wanted to, but something called her, something older than she, older than he, older than time.

 

 

 

"Oh, mother, no, no, no," cried the child. She turned to him with a look of dreadful love in her eyes. She took the boy's face in her hands, and breathed her sweet breath into his lungs, once, twice, three times. Then, with him under her arm like a precious bundle, she dove into the sea, down, and down, and down, and still deeper down, and the seal woman and her child breathed easily under water.

 

 

 

And they swam deep and strong till they entered the underwater cove of seals where all manner of creatures were dining and singing, dancing and speaking, and the great silver seal that had called to Ooruk from the night sea embrace the child and called him grandson.

 

 

 

"How fare you up there, daughter?" asked the great silver seal.

 

 

 

The seal woman looked away and said, "I hurt a human . . . a man who gave his all to have me. But I cannot return to him, for I shall be a prisoner if I do."

 

 

 

"And the boy?" asked the old seal. "My grandchild?" He said it so proudly his voice shook.

 

 

 

"He must go back, father, He cannot stay. His time is not yet to be here with us." And she wept. And together they wept.

 

 

 

And so some days and nights passed, seven to be exact, during which time the luster came back to the seal woman's hair and eyes. She turned a beautiful dark color, her sight was restored, her body regained its plumpness, and she swam uncrippled. Yet it came time to return the boy to land. On that night, the old grandfather seal and the boy's beautiful mother swam with the child between them. Back they went, back up and up and up to the topside world. There they gently placed Ooruk on the stony shore in the moonlight.

 

 

 

His mother assured him, "I am always with you. Only touch what I have touched, my firesticks, my ulu, knife, my stone carvings of otters and seal, and I will breathe into your lungs a wind for the singing of your songs."

 

 

 

The old silver seal and his daughter kissed the child many times. At last, they tore themselves away and swam out to sea, and with one last look at the boy, they disappeared beneath the waters. And Ooruk, because it was not his time, stayed.

 

 

 

As time went on, he grew to be a mighty drummer and singer and maker of stories, and it was said this all came to be because as a child he had survived being carried out to sea by the great seal spirits. Now, in the gray mists of morning, sometimes he can still be seen, with his kayak tethered, kneeling upon a certain rock in the sea, seeming to speak to a certain female seal who often comes near the shore. Though many have tried to hunt her, time after time they have failed. She is known as Tanqugcaq, the bright one, the holy one, and it is said that though she be a seal, her eyes are capable of portraying those human looks, those wise and wild and loving looks.

 

 

 

 

the book really exists. its one of those amazing things you think are made up but actually exist. wierd.

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"im high and watching a 3 some between writers you guys would dick suck....."

 

 

 

hahahaha.....what the fuck.......whats the matter? dont have enuff clout to join in, or is it that the coke gots that weinnie of yours limper then grandpas....

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"Who am I? Why am I here? Is there an entity greater than myself? If there is, how can I get it to like me?"

 

 

heshie did you ask yourself this while they were gangbanging her and doing lines off her nipples???

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