Astrology on the Web - Loathesome Leo

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Asperitus Casting Runes...

The Irksome Journeys of September 2003
LOATHESOME LEO...

Sing 'hey' for the life of a lion! Sing 'hey' and 'ho' for the vacuous things of might and mane! Sing 'hey nonny no' for the hairdressing types! Last month we left you about to shuffle off the mortal coil, courtesy of a barbaric rite performed by some benighted folk who felt you to be a god of some sort. Thus the impulse to deify you in the old-fashioned way may be read as a considerable advance on their part towards the notion of civilized behaviour. Of course, there are many ways to interpret that statement.

Nonetheless, on with the show, little leonine ninnies! After all, we can't leave you facing imminent death for too long! Marauding Mars and idiot Uranus cavort in your solar eighth house. Suddenly, yet with a tragic sense of impending doom, your find yourself upon the sacrificial altar, a knife to your neck, pinned by sweaty hands that have laid hold of your crowning glory, the mighty mane. You're so upset you can hardly recall the name of that special emulsion you'll need to restore your locks, until of course you realize it may not be needed at all. Oh what a ghastly thought!

Never mind! You beg and plead for your life, but your prayers are greeted by nasty laughter. Nasty that is, until it takes a rather comical turn as your fellow ritualists fall to the ground, poking fun at your miserable and unflattering condition. Great heavens, leonine nitwits! What's going on? You've been duped, that's what! And by a scheming band of discarded lovers and partners, what's more! They have the tapes of this fiasco, sex, frocks, bad hair, pleading and all, and they're prepared to blackmail you till you pay what they feel they're owed for slighted devotion to your esteemed personage on past occasions. All this takes place under a raft of aspects too tedious to name.

Suffice to say that by the Full Moon in snivelling Pisces, you're exhausted and much poorer after the seemingly endless negotiations that see all the tapes in your keeping. You're alone and weeping on the beach of sorrows as sober Saturn clashes with Chiron the wounded healer, thinking about the meaning of life and the best brand of hair gel.

But what's this? Uranus moves back to idiotic Aquarius and Venus the goddess enters Libra. One of your ex-partners has returned to commiserate! You're overwhelmed! Profuse apologies flow as you reconcile.

The great Sol Invicti moves into Libra, bringing a New Moon in that odious sign and you sit entwined with an old love renewed, whispering sweet nothings. The beach of sorrows is a beach of joy in this wild place that has become your island home. However, all is not what it seems! Mercury the messenger clashes with underworld Pluto for a third and final time, bringing good news and bad.

Let's do the good news first. The island you're on is actually a sand spit, a few hundred metres from where you live. You discover this because your cell phone rings, telling you where you are. That's the good news! You can walk home at low tide. The bad news is that your accountant is on the phone. The settlement you've made has bankrupted you. Great gods alive and dead, how will you eat tonight, let alone purchase that special emulsion? I have no idea, little leonine ninnies. But if you click here next month, you may find I've though of one. Until then!