Aries

Aries. Sit down, sinner. It’s a Monday and I can already smell the smoke coming off you from the folding table. You woke up with a list and you’re gonna try to crush all of it before noon — Madonn’, my child, the day has not even put its shoes on. Drink the coffee black this morning. Eat something that didn’t come out of a wrapper. The first email you want to send at 9:14 — sit on it until 11. I’m begging. I lit a candle to Saint Joan for you and she rolled her eyes, which from her is basically a hug. Go gently into this week, dirty Madonna. The world is not a fire to put out. Saint Anthony rides with you.