Welcome, weary traveler of the soul.
My name’s Hobo Harry, and I read the stars through the sacred shimmer of empty bean cans. Some folks call me a lunatic with a bindle, others call me a prophet in patched corduroy. I just call myself in tune — with the cosmos, with the streets, and with the subtle wisdom that drips from rain barrels and alleyways.
I’ve been ridin’ the rails since ’81, ever since I caught a vision of the Zodiac itself reflected in a puddle of pork ‘n beans behind a Denny’s in Toledo. Since then, I’ve dedicated my life to scryin’ the secrets of fate through the fine art of can-gazing, soot-whisperin’, and trashfire meditation.
My Method
Every day at sunrise (or whenever I wake up), I gather my Twelve Sacred Cans — each one attuned to a different sign of the Zodiac. I fill them with rainwater, moonlight, and sometimes a splash of hooch, then I peer inside until the cosmos speaks. The stars don’t lie, friend — but sometimes they mumble, so it takes a practiced eye.
Each horoscope I write is a blend of gut instinct, hobo magic, and a hint of last night’s chili.
What I Believe
- Destiny is real, but it’s got a great sense of humor.
- A lucky coin is only as lucky as the pocket it’s in.
- Everyone’s got a story — and the stars want to help you tell yours.
- You don’t need fancy telescopes or crystal balls to hear the universe… just an open mind and a clean-ish can.
Services Offered
- Daily Horoscopes (soup-stained but true)
- Bean Can Birth Chart Readings
- Astrological Advice for the Lovelorn, the Lost, and the Loafers
- Custom Fortune-Telling for Pigeons (limited availability)
So pull up a milk crate, pour yourself some mystery stew, and let Hobo Harry guide your journey. Whether you’re a Capricorn with calluses or a dreamy Pisces driftin’ through boxcar dreams — the cans have somethin’ to tell you.
The stars are everywhere. But they echo loudest in tin.
– Hobo Harry, Keeper of the Twelve Sacred Cans