Which reason is so epic and cosmological that it begins to retreat into the obscure, the downright abstruse: that cosmic aloneness is the bride of existence, okay, but do the design choices of your hotel room have to be so hellishly hotelish? A good question, but with a lame answer. Then, driving a rented car just beneath the hills in the heavy haze of a Burbank CA dusk, trying to assimilate any old which way into your current situation, a dude will yell at you: “you’re alive!” And ‘ratiocinatin for a moment, you will surmise that, yes, that is true and even, at this juncture, rather profound, until it comes to you and you gasp, shuddering: “Oh Christ!” punching the steering wheel, “I’m alive!” The feeling can be difficult to take, I know. Only what’s really going on is that you’re driving without your lights on and what the dude actually yelled was: “your lights.” Which is a relief. As if, for the moment, the gods have extended you a reprieve… But will you really need to go back to your hotel room so early in that long L.A. night?
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WHAT YOUR WEEK HAS IN STORE is a weekly (-ish) horoscope by Forest Lewis. If you’d like to receive email alerts—and that’s all you’ll get, a short email—saying the new one’s up, sign up here: