My Wednesday horoscope for the week began like this:" 'A true poet does not bother to be poetical,' said the poet Jean Cocteau.
Yet it seems instead one needs to drive a blog, spit Twitters, make business cards with Dickinson quotations on them to distribute to lovely strangers. Well, or, okay, that's what I am beginning to do. But perhaps I should continue reading the horoscope to explain further:
"...It's important that you do what you do best without any embellishment, pretentiousness, or self-consciousness. Don't you dare try to hard or think too much or twist yourself like a contortionist to meet ... expectations. Trust the thrust of your simple urges."
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