The Stars Say That You're An Exciting And Wonderful Person, But You Know They're Lying

Trying to find a book on the history of astrology and its influences on the world, which isn’t hard to find. The tricky part is finding an author who doesn’t feel the need to constantly insist that astrology is TRUE DAMMIT. Bit surprising, really—I’d have expected it to be impartial, but the last author waxed strongly poetic about how empty astronomy is without astrology, and how astrology gives lives meaning and connects us to the greater universe in a tangible way, and other such bullshit.

Thing is, as an anthropology nerd, I find astrology fascinating. Not for its objective truth; one can be interested in urban legends, or religions, or fairy tales, without thinking they’re actual truths. No, I like to see what a complex mythology like that says about the people who made it up, and how a human-generated system influences how humans actually behave. It doesn’t matter if the position of Jupiter actually affects a person’s life*; what matters is that the person behaves as if it does.

I kinda wish I could find a book that sees the difference.

And yes, this is more research for writing. I’m trying to add some more mythology into the OGYAFE culture, and they just can’t get enough of their stars. If nothing else, it gives me some good place names to work with.


*It says you should spend the rest of the week face-down in the mud.

Fukitol Theater Gets The Halloween Spirit

Had a bunch of terrifying nightmares last night. Most of ’em were your standard Watchin’ Too Many Horror Movies types, like the big scary spaceship full of mutant monsters and spacesuits doing like they did in that Doctor Who episode with the man-eating shadows, and also for some reason a bear. Not, like, a mutant bear, either—just your basic run-of-the-mill bear. At least he was on our side.

Anyway, that was rough, but at least we had both Hikaru Sulu and Han Solo there to work out the mess. The really scary dream was the one that was basically Dawn of the Dead, only instead of a shopping mall, it was the Liberry, and instead of zombies, it was crabby patrons who REALLY HAD TO USE THE COMPUTER. The whole dream was spent running to an estimated eight thousand ports of entry to try to lock them, screaming “We’re CLOSED, motherfuckers!”, and threatening to call the police while they kept wedging their feet in the doors and chanting “GAMES. GAAAAAMES.” I found myself wondering if I’d ever see my family again.

The best horror stories are those that could actually happen, after all.


(Incidentally, I made a discovery about that a few weeks ago: as soon as a patron comes up and bitches that the First-Come, First-Served policy for computer use should change to Grownups Get First Bid Because They Are Important, I bristle. Yeah, I make endless fun of the kids who come in to use their two daily computer turns for a round of Lego Dudes Wandering Around, or Pin The Dresses On The Sparkleponies, or other such items of business, but hey, it’s important to them. Plus, kids have homework sometimes—and grownups are just as guilty of so-called “timewasting.” Don’t knock the noisy little Flash-playing hard-swearing twerps.)