By Melanie Woods, October 13 2015 —
(Sept. 23 – Oct. 22)
You will read James Joyce’s Ulysses backwards on a dare from a friend and discover it’s actually the story of a sad, confused dog.
(Oct. 23 – Nov. 21)
William Shakespeare will approach you in a dark alley, call you a “fucking loser with no direction in life” and then disappear into the night. Weren’t Shakespearean insults supposed to be funny?
(Nov. 22 – Dec. 21)
After reading T. S. Eliot’s “The Lovesong of J. Alfred Prufrock,” you will actually start measuring your life in coffee spoons. You have accomplished 9,782 coffee spoons so far.
(Dec. 22 – Jan. 19)
Your professor will decide to model class after Game of Thrones. You will arrive to class every day to fight for your life and honour, facing betrayal, sex, lies and death at every turn. In the game of POLI 319, you get an A or you die.
(Jan. 20 – Feb. 18)
Your future is grim. This horoscope is haiku. Really sucks for you.
(Feb. 19 – March 20)
While riding the train you will encounter a group of people of various social strata claiming to be on their way to Canterbury. The knight seems like a real dick.
(March 21 – April 19)
You will find yourself inexplicably drawn to a green light. And so we beat on, cars stuck in traffic, borne back ceaselessly into rush hour.
(April 20 – May 20)
Your grandmother will inexplicably be replaced by Canadian literary icon Margaret Atwood. Rather than baking cookies or doing other grandmotherly things, she’ll point out the similarities between our society and many classic dystopias, claiming that we as a human race will inevitably bring about the downfall of our world due to the evils of industrial capitalism and the folly of corporate ambition. You’ll realize she’s kind of right.
(May 21 – June 20)
While reading Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein, you will die very suddenly. Nobody will bring you back to life because nobody cares enough.
(June 21 – July 22)
The tall man from the Harry Potter series will knock on your door late one night to explicitly clarify that you are not a wizard.
(July 23 – Aug. 22)
While working on your novel, you will remember that Milton was completely blind and still wrote the epic poem, Paradise Lost, hundreds of years ago. You can see just fine, own word-processing software and wrote about a quarter of a shitty novel no one will ever publish.
(Aug. 23 – Sept. 22)
When you lose the television remote in the cushions of your couch, you will call Sherlock Holmes to help you solve the mystery. He will arrive, criticize your choice of suede over leather and promptly leave.