Craccum’s resident oracle Miss Fortune has an orthodontist appointment this week she can’t reschedule, so has passed the mantle onto Dawn Freshwater’s wayward son, Dusk Dirtycoffee.
Headfirst and headstrong, you will engage this week with an unbridled enthusiasm. Your forceful foray into every endeavour means you will be a leader in your journey. Walking up Albert Park, you swell with pride as you look back and find yourself ahead of your peers. Pride precedes fall. Because of your arrogance towards those who trail you, you will miss the gigantic low-hanging Albert Park branch ahead (seriously, why hasn’t this been cut down?) and smack your giant fucking forehead into it. Shame.
The universe, or whatever deity you associate with horoscopes, have blessed you with fine weather. Finally, you can enjoy the flora in their coruscating tints. You say to yourself, ‘fuck it’, and take advantage of the warm, almost-spring breeze. You ditch your first tutorial to roll in the grass, rationalising that you can miss up to two and still gain plussage.
This week, you’ll find yourself saying yes to every opportunity that presents itself. Although you’ve never played Chess, you’re suddenly a member of the university chess club. Despite living at home with a bountiful fridge, you install UberEats, feeling sorry for the often-ignored UberEats people wandering Symonds Street. You’ve never written a Horoscope before, so you decide that the last semester of your undergraduate degree is the best time to do it.
Your intuition will serve you well this week. You feel the psychic energies swell within; the stars are once more in your favour. During your first tutorial you will easily intuit who, like, totally is your, like, vibe—you know what I mean, like? However, your inner insight falters in absence of social contexts. You fail to feel the negative energy of the Level 4 Disabled Bathroom’s toilet seat, contracting crabs in the process.
Pleased be the galaxies with you, dear Leo. More than ever, you exude an effervescent passion attractive to all. That very effervescent passion, unfortunately, carries with it the Coronavirus. To your credit, you are fashioning a mask—because it’s so totally in right now.
You’re set for the semester, for the stars have been awfully kind. Everything has been organised to perfection. You have bought the perfect stationery to take your beautiful, methodical notes. You take down everything your lecturer says and highlight every second passage in the readings. Well done.
Ready yourself, pay attention to your surroundings, for your balance and harmony will be tested. Hurrying to lecturers? Boom!—surprise tree root as you walk along Princes Street. Running to Munchy Mart because they’re about to close? Bang!—that little fucking concrete hump along the Kate Edgar pathway. Forget to use protection after getting with that first-year Business student you met at Shadows? Smack!—Chlamydia.
The sparkling planets understand your post-isolation struggles and imbue you with an abundance of emotional energy to satisfy your relationships. Your newfound wellspring of emotions compel you to pursue intimacy in those unwilling to reciprocate. Yikes. The sparkling planets are cruel. Those damn gassy, rocky bastards and their perpetual spinning.
Your intrinsic wanting to cultivate your intellectual spirit has been heard by the cosmos. The paths you walk are littered with mindfulness enthusiasts, Buddhist dilettantes, and religious nuts professing their spiritual panacea. Despite the warning bells blaring in your head, you warily accept an invitation to a Bible-reading session. You fucked up. You’re now part of the Freemasons.
True to your zodiac, you navigate this week of university with flawless form. You don’t fall prey to the Ubiq stationery discounts. You don’t impulsively volunteer to be a class rep. You go to every class and every tutorial. True to your zodiac, unfortunately, you’ve also magically transformed into a sea goat, a mythological creature with the body of a goat and tail of a fish. Being non-human, this means that you no longer have the right to vote.
This week is one of deep and mindful contemplation. Your inner exploration invites the ether of the universe towards your soul. The sparkly ingredients of the heavens bring with it energies beyond your appetite. Amidst an exceptionally meaningful meditation session, you attract the thunderous arrival of a celestial spark. Before you know it, lightning descends upon you, striking the tip of your nipples.
Beware of koi ponds, the heavenly beings warn. Although aquatic beings have been favourable to you in the past, this time they carry malice with their wet little tails. Karma awaits its retribution within its watery walls. This is what you get for not having a KeepCup. All that plastic you’ve wasted from the Starbucks Iced Mochaccino is going to bite you harder than the brain freeze from an eager first sip.