Venus is about to air dries in Aries
May I offer a bit of Venusian generosity?
Dearest F@ggots,
As wildfires blaze, ICE raids agitate, and gender-based violence plumes, I selfishly find myself wanting a party. So much destruction and displacement, all of it needless. Can I be forgiven for wanting a bit of festivity? I promise I’m not the only one wanting one. “[L]osing themselves in each other’s company,” Patrick Nathan’s protagonist reads, “stealing moments of intimacy when they thought no one else was looking . . . forgetting who you were, that you were at all . . . to be grateful together, and grateful for their lives.” Quotidianly chopped by yours truly, fictive George weaves together thirty-six words that undergird and elucidate restorative social spaces.
Reality check! Twitter’s the Tenth Circle of Hell. Instagram’s a wash and TikiTok’s compromised. Bluesky’s too novel at the moment and Meta abounds. I don’t mean to sound (privileged or) alarmist but where the hell are we supposed to go. Maybe, just maybe, it’s time to get out of the group chat and touch grass. I have a big ass blanket and I know you bitches love snacks. Doesn’t stargazing between fistfulls of trailmix sound heavenly? Yes, yes it does.
Eight degrees away from Aries, Venus drifts toward harsher shores. I wonder if we’re going to experience a less amenable Lady of Roses. Thankfully, she won’t start hollering her displeasure until February 2nd. “LADYINPIECES,” my 50% off discount code, expires then. Book an astrological consult and use the code at checkout. Until then, enjoy the peaceful and regenerative conversation (mutually applicating trine for the astro-literate) between Venus in Pisces and Mars Rx in Cancer. May it reveal avenues of support that proffer blue skies, smooth drives, and scenic waves of relief. Heaven knows we need it. Take dick if that’s how you were raised, but most importantly take care.
Sincerely,
E.Y. Washington