Psychic Sibyl : Your Monthly Horrorscope | July
Did you know that we have a micro-climate here in contemporary Ancient Greece? That’s right….
Contrary to popular belief, we here in the astrological valhalla share the same steamy coordinates as 1980s Spain, specifically the cinematic Madrid of Almodóvar’s movida madrileña. Don’t ask me how, it’s all latitude and longitude and wibbly-wobbly-timey-wimey-stuff. Anyways, thanks to the gulf stream currents emanating from Antonio Banderas’s hot, hot, evil, hot body, the humidity can get quite unbearable. Especially in July. But I mustn’t complain. As they say in Madrid; “Embrace both our seasons: invierno and infierno!!” and as we say here in Contemporary Ancient Greece: “Welcome to Hell, bitches.”
This month, we’re seeking solace from the sun and staying inside. That way we can indulge in the creative accomplishments of our twinned micro-climate civilisation once and for all. And what better way to make the most of our brother’s bosses’ mistress’s Mubi subscription, than by starting a movie marathon of Almodóvar’s complete filmography?!
Join us on this journey of soul-searching as we kick things off with Almodóvar’s cult classic La Ley Del Deseo.
*******The sibyls’ and I have taken it upon ourselves to assign each of you characters from the film; so be warned, and learn from their mistakes this upcoming lunar cycle.
AQUARIUS | Jan 20- Feb 18
Listen Pablo, chiselling away furiously at your technologically anachronistic scroll/ typewriter is not going to solve the problem at hand. All those naked young men in your room are not going to disappear any time soon. Write all you want but….
PISCES | Feb 19- Mar 20
Oh Tina, we love you Tina. We love your complexity and your rawness and your depth of emotion. We love the way you navigate your relationships both on and off the stage; bitch slapping all the police officers, grieving mothers and lawyers that get in your way. You go, Tina. What we do not love, however, is your bed-side manner, specifically your phone etiquette. So here is some advice: 1) Answer the phone within three rings . 2) Immediately introduce yourself. 3) Only use speakerphone when necessary. 4) Actively listen and take notes. 5) Avoid using slang or blaspheming. 6) Remain chipper. 7) Ask before putting someone on hold or transferring a call.
ARIES | Mar 21- Apr 19
Juan, wherefore art thou, Juan? It’s such a shame that you get pushed off a cliff before we get to find out whether you have a personality.
TAURUS | Apr 20- May 20
My guy. Antonio, I actually cannot fault you, you play the part SO well that- hey would you look at that?-you will now spend the rest of your acting career being type-cast as a crazy manic psycho bitch. It doesn’t help that your real name in also Antonio [Banderas] and the audience can’t help but superimpose some element of [auto]fiction onto your [character’s] narrative.
GEMINI | May 21-Jun 21
What are the chances that Gemini has taken the guise of a two-faced manifestation of the ethically corrupt legal system? Yes, Gemini, you can’t get enough of the classic good-cop bad-cop father-son dynamic: what with all the intergenerational contraband cocaine-snorting, donut-eating, chastising-moralising between you and your split personality, its safe to say that NO WORK GETS DONE , ever!! Why not take a chill pill and/or respect some females for a change.
CANCER | Jun 22- Jul 22
You know what they say. Real hoes don’t get cold. Well that is a shame, an awful shame. Because its 39degrees in the shade and you could really do with being hosed down by a stranger (with cold water obvs). You want, no, you NEED, to be refreshed. So when you have a chance encounter with a hose-touting janitor on your late-night walk home, you immediately recognise him as your chosen service-provider: “DONT BE SHY!! HOSE ME DOWN!!” you scream in your best shouty-sangria voice. He consents and proceeds to take aim. Unfortunately you are greatly disappointed when the water coming out of said-hose is luke warm. Essentially tepid. Real hoes don’t get cold, the janitor mutters with a knowing wink.
LEO | Jul 23-Aug 22
Bah, ouais. Comme tu peut lire, ma chère Leo, il est grand temps que tu apprenne le français, en espagnol, sabbes? Listen up: it’s time to get on the international scene. Be like Antonio’s nameless German mother, and get yourself a minor character arc in a major screen adaptation, where the audience doesn’t know quite what your role is, or quite why it is necessary to mention that you are German. Nevertheless, important life lessons may be learned from this religious fanatic. Firstly, always be ready to hide your murderous son [Antonio, not Banderas] from the Gemini cops of this world. Secondly, lying is not a mortal sin, but a precursor to moral righteousness. Finally, Laura P. is always a solid alibi. And since I won’t answer any more nebulous life advice without my lawyer present, Leo, I rest my case.
VIRGO | Aug 23- Sept 22
Sweet sweet music. Would this film be the same without it? Lo dudo, Lo dudo Also the name of the haunting bolero that plays in the film’s climatic scene. We only have Los Panchos to thank for serenading us when we needed it most. And Almodóvar himself for his impeccable taste in Mexican guitar trios.
Lo dudo, lo dudo, lo dudo
Que tú llegues a quererme
Como yo te quiero a ti
Lo dudo, lo dudo, lo dudo
Que halles un amor más puro
Como el que tienes en mí
Hallarás mil aventuras sin amor
Pero al final de todas
Solo tendrás dolor
Te darán de los placeres frenesí
Mas no ilusión sincera
Como la que te di
LIBRA | Sept 23- Oct 23
Hear me out, Libra. Not all is fair in show business. And as is the fate of many of these wunderkind child stars, you are heading down a dangerous path of excess fame, unlimited funds to blow on, well, blow, and years of exploitative child-labour laws being shoved under the red carpet. Of course, it’s all fun and games when you’re balling your eyes out, lip-syncing Edith Piaf on a rotating pulley and wearing more bangles than is sensible for a thirteen year old with zero fashion wherewithal and access to the internet. But, tell me kid, what happens when you hit fifteen, huh? What happens when your skin loses that youthful glow, huh? When all the work playing a sassy, precocious preteen dries up and you’re left scraping the barrel, too old to play it cute, and way too young to play your actual age along with all the thirty year old high school students on Elite, huh? But, hey, hombre. That’s show biz. Perhaps your good pal, Módovar will take you back on once you’ve cleaned up your act and stopped getting caught shoplifting honey and thyme brie from over-priced French supermarchés.
SCORPIO | Oct 24- Nov 21
The shine. The shrine. The Shrine. THE Shrine? THE SHRINE. Yes, you’re right, Scorpio. It does have a nice ring to it. Now, what do I spy here? Is that you? That sexy, sexy towering mass of semi-pornographic imagery and last year’s set of Christmas lights, stealing the show in this Almodóvar classic? You are giving me MAJOR main character energy right now, and I can’t say that I am at all surprised. I am, after all, a psychic, and somewhat of a cult figure head myself, so I understand completely the transformation that you will undergo this upcoming month. My advice is therefore, the following: do not get into any unnecessary online feuds (unless it serves to grease the online-cult-follower to real-life-cult-follower pipeline); do NOT listen to your accountant when she tells you that white leather cowboy boots cannot be legally filed under ‘office expenses’ (it’s time to get a new accountant, perhaps try scoping out Swindon…); and never, I repeat, NEVER again allow Almodóvar to place you in the background of a scene, behind less qualified, and less commercially attractive actors, without the written promise of your own starring role in his next film: ‘No hay nada de malo en erigirse un altar a sí mismo‘.
SAGITTARIUS | Nov 22- Dec 21
Woah, now. What in heaven above is that savant ensemble that you have taken to wearing? Is that a papal mitre, or am I just projecting quasi-sanctimonious apparitions of hot priests as my subconscious’ way of telling me to repent for all my immortal sins and go to the dentist already? Whatever the case may be, I’m digging the new look. Sure, Sagittarius, you may be taking a palm leaf out of the big man’s best selling telenovella, but did you ever stop to consider that all this holier-than-thou prancing around in Churrigueresque architectural hot-spots, may in fact be taking precious screen time away from astrological faves, ie. Scorpio and their whimsical cult aspirations? Suffice to say: consider aligning yourself with a group of individuals less prone to global scandals and shockingly accurate cinematic appearances in hit teen-vamp franchises. Sí, sí, the robes are delightfully breezy, and the monumental church interiors are *extremely* convenient when it reaches ‘too fucking much’ on the invierno-infierno Madrid cosmo-climate scale… but, please, think of the Carmen Maura’s of this world. Now she is a religious icon. You, my friend, should pick up crocheting, instead.
CAPRICORN | Dec 22- Jan 19
All sarcasm and observational comedy to one side, let’s not forget why we are here in the first place. Why are we here? Watching and re-watching Almodóvar for the nth time this year? And no, not just because its boiling hot outside and we need a break from the sun. Not just because his complete filmography is now available for online streaming . Well. I don’t need to remind, you, Capricorn Woman, because you already know. You already know why it is that we do anything. Why we watch our favourite films again and again, why we force our friends to do the same, why we let ourselves fall in love again, why we record ourselves growing up and making mistakes and acting on our inspiration, why we write, why we write everyday, until we finish our manuscripts and smile because we know that this has always been a good enough reason. In the words of Elizabeth Duval “lo llaman deseo y el deseo es suficiente”.