There’s a soft seriousness about astrology, one that you should never really examine in its adherents. It’s the same no matter if it’s young women reading magazines or middle aged cranks visiting frauds who advertise on street posters.
I don’t doubt it’s effectiveness, having your fate in the stars must be a kind of liberation in the passive lives of its patrons. Maybe that’s why they worshipped planets in the first place, mercury is in retrograde and you have a one in twelve chance you share some common ground with the more fortunate.
Of course I know better than to take literally everything people take seriously. I’ve got my own crank theory I’m working on, based on the idea of the bicaramel mind and a bit of Jungianism. Julian Jaymes believed that the history of language predates that of conscious thought. So every now and then early man would hear a voice that guided him though crisis and he mistook it for the voice of Gods and Goddesses.
I’m not sure what I’ll do with my conspiracy yet, maybe cut down on day dreams or even try and cut off that inner monologue. Why shouldn’t I? There are people who never had anything at all in their minds and seem to get by just fine. Or maybe I’ll listen to that inner voice like it’s some trapped divinity mindlessly yammering about my life.