May 15, 1975

I kind of wear many hats in my capacity as a Librarian ... but one of my favorite tiny surprises is receiving a box full of random (and usually historical) things -- from photos to newspaper clippings.

Today was such a lucky day. I only made it through half of the dust-riddled box before I had to stop for the day. And always, always, always amid that dusty veneer is something twinkling in its own oddness ... in its bizarre random existence. I do not know when horoscopes were made readliy available, made mainstream and published in newspapers, but I found what would have been my horoscope (had I existed in 1975) from May 15, 1975 that struck me. It struck me in its complete odd truth: You'll be disappointed early in the day tomorrow when something you've been counting on falls through. Toward evening, things work out.

The tone is curt and very matter of fact, and this strikes me as odd. It is cynical not only in its predictions but in its sentiment. I think it will be a good exercise for me to first research when horoscopes were made so readily available, and second to use dated horoscopes as fodder for poems. "Toward evening, things work out" possesses poetic possibilities. It is also a horoscope that could belong to anyone at any given time in any given place in the world. I know this is true of a lot of horoscopes, but especially the vague ones. I have another pet project now ...