a letter from the editors

From: The Bottom Of Our Hearts

Better late than never, Grandma always said. So here we are as the snow comes, offering you poems and photos of cough drops and the feeling of a warm, quiet cat in your lap. Heat up that hot toddy. Open the recliner. Turn on your indoor UV lightbox and let your seasonal affect be tipsy and planning for a spring revival.

That’s what we’ll be doing, at least. Fresh announcement, all LED and front-yard animatronic: starting today, IDK will be on hiatus developing the steps we’ll take next as we lumber out of hibernation. Look for our next word on or around March 20th (read: June 20).

As we read runes and fancy playing cards and the backs of cereal boxes for hints of divine providence, we offer you these horoscopes to be your North Star for the next 365 smackeroonies.

It's ya horoscopes:

Set yourself on fire. Now rise.

My dad’s a Taurus, so I’ve never dated one. Stubborn as all hell, but the life of the party. You love to charm, you love to hug, but god forbid if someone wants the log-in information for the Verizon account. Just give me the pin number, okay? My phone hasn’t kept a charge in four months. In 2017, just let the horns grow out so everyone can see them. We all know what’s under that weave, anyway.

Who you calling two-faced? Only be the other face in 2017. Change your name. Buy a kayak. Start drinking whichever name-brand soda you’ve always said you hated. And your sister always said you’d never change...

Google “trench foot;” google “deprivation tank;” google “marshes near me;” google “bipolar or just crazy, like that jar of jelly he stuck his dick in after he drew lips around the rim;” google “mindful meditation;” google “how much do tears weigh on the moon.”

Life is usually all about you, Leo, but what if 2017 was the Year of the Co-Star? Whose wagon will you hitch your big, bright, beautiful, egomaniacal supernova to this year?

You’ll spend all year trying to dig up the root of your anger, but its feet run deep, down into the core of you. Both weed tree flower child and dirty flaky crust, the x-ray shows no sign of abnormal growths. Organize your collection of potted plants in order of most to least useful.

Forget about yoga and keeping your real thoughts to yourself and making responsible decisions. Ride a roller coaster this year and let the roller coaster be you. The world is your oyster, Gloria—lean in.

Usually, when you tell people you’re a Scorpio, they go, “Oh yeah, I can totally see that,” and you’re a little offended by this. Next year, when you tell someone your sign, they will disbelieve you, and ask to see your driver’s license or some other form of legally binding ID. You won’t know whether this is better or worse, but that’s kind of what change is, really.

2017 will be the year when you finally remember that ‘Sagittarius’ has two t’s, not two g’s. Good job. Now open up a fucking savings account, stupid.

From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia: “Not to be confused with Capricornus.”
Sources: Mayo, Jeff (1979). Teach Yourself Astrology. London: Hodder and Stoughton.

Since you’re already having dreams about the apocalypse, start watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer. (Yes, the first season sucks.) Soon your dreams will guest-star celebrities like Kate McKinnon and Gabourey Sidibe and together you’ll spearhead the 2017 underground railroad for queer women. Other dreams include but aren’t limited to: breaking Hillary Clinton out of a compound in rural Mississippi, getting hired as the seamstress for Pussy Riot, interviewing Solange and Beyoncé on Good Morning America.

Ask yourself: what’s so great about being a fish? Laying eggs? Shiny Scales? Gills? Did you know if you have an extra little hole on your ear (where the top of your ear meets your face) you are just 0.1% of the population?! That little hole is where our gills used to be! Quick, go check a mirror. So maybe you really are a fish, fish. And if you’re not, you’ll be getting your ears pierced in 2017.