“Farewell till then: I will go lose myself
And wander up and down to view the city.”

Antipholus of Syracuse in Shakespeare’s A Comedy of Errors Act I, scene ii

Horoscopes by the Fishing Guide to the Stars starting 5.7.2015

Taurus:

How can you tell if a Hippie is from Austin? He’s licensed to carry a gun, and he’s packing. Can’t make that one up, but I don’t fit the category, either way. I’m not old enough to have been a hippie, although, I do enjoy the ideals, and while I’m capable of getting a Concealed Handgun Carry permit, I don’t own either firearm nor, do I have a desire to do so. In both cases, this is a “fail” for me, but as a joke, for folks who kept moving to Austin, it’s as good guideline as any.

There’s an inherent duality as Mars shifts from the final stages of Taurus, heading into Gemini. Not a bad duality, not like, “an evil twin,” but more like there are two, definite sides to this, the way we see, our perceptions. Two sides, at least. To some, like the Austin hippie joke, to some, it will appear that these two sides are different, possibly un-reconcilable. It’s not, but Taurus patience is required to arrive at that reconciliation, next week.

Gemini:

The “random” function on most media players typifies this week’s weird energy. I’ve got a little, not too many songs, but I’ve got a few truly classical “country” pieces. Roots of real Americana music, to be honest. It’s not bad, but the slow shuffle and simple beat, it’s relaxing, in its own way. Cycles up at random intervals and I get lulled into a peaceful, slightly slower and maybe more bucolic rate. Pace slows down.

The random function will pull up some speed-thrash metal, maybe something with cacophonous punk sound. Not bad, but screeching and beating, from soft and sonorous is a change. Enter Mars, the planet, unto Gemini. It’s that random function. Not always bad, either, as maybe you needed your pace picked up a little. Maybe the jarring switch from soft to hard will help. Mars is like the random function on my musical background. There’s no telling what will pop up next, and whatever it is? It will be radically different from what’s on right now. Week starts one way and by the middle of next week? All together different in timbre as Mars helps Gemini shift some gears.

(Word omitted), we didn’t even talk about Mercury in Gemini, did we?

Cancer:

I’ve used this description too many times, but the archetype for Cancer is the Crab. Crustacean with hard carapace and soft, tender meat, on the inside. Tough shell, hard exoskeleton, the tender bits are protected by the shell. Tough little pincers on some crabs, too. I’ve caught a number of crabs on nasty bait, the fellers like to hold on, one claw feeding itself while the other maintains a firm grip, clasped to the bait.

Funny, to me, as I reeled crabs into the boat, only for the crab to let go once it’s in the boat. Sometimes, if the crab isn’t a breeder, and the right size, it might get used as bait, as well. Been known to happen. First thoughts, Venus, in Cancer, even now? Get out of that shell, but wait, second thoughts? Mars, and Mercury, Mars moving into your 12th and Mercury already there? Retreat. Tactical retreat, practical retreat, withdraw to fight another day? Any combination that works is what’s good for you.

The (mighty) Leo:

One music writer, as in the guy wrote about music, he didn’t write music itself, anyway, this one guy referred to “techno” as “Dance music for folks who can’t hold onto a beat.” That would be me, for sure. The key elements, according to that one writer, was that techno has snare on 2 and bass drum on 4, with basic 4/4 beat, otherwise. That gives us (folks who lack rhythm) an audio clue on how to nod our head, snap our fingers, or sway.

In my case? I’m not a graceful Leo, I tend to jerk spasmodically, and that’s called dancing. I also tend to do this in the privacy of my own home, out of sight of prying eyes (for obvious reasons). There’s a simple beat, an easy to discern pattern and patter to the week’s energy for Leo. Like some of the slightly redundant techno music with its predicable rhythm? There’s a clue as to what to hold onto, and as the mighty Leo, the rest of us are looking to you for help. Show us the way. Show us the sway, I think, might be a better term. If you listen, the “Music of the spheres,” the planetary order and tunes played? It gives a clear sense of the beat required to make Leo work correctly. How about like this? You’re the band leader, “And one and two…”

Virgo:

You’re waiting, along with me because I don’t think any Virgo should wait alone, you’re waiting for the “Feature Presentation.” Coming soon. Next up. Almost here. Soon. “How soon?” The good Virgo asks. “Soon. Very soon.” Only reply I’ve got. I’ll sit here with you, though, while we wait.

Instead of standing by idle, though, have you thought about tending to just a few things that might need tending to? Like a little clean-up action? Not an overhaul, just a little straightening, after your last spring cleaning, this place is a little in disarray. Not so I could notice, but it doesn’t work for the Virgo eye, now does it? So yes, I’ll sit, and you tinker with making it a little more straight. Tidy, I think is the word we’re looking for.

I’m still waiting on the feature presentation, but until it’s ready? Let’s get a few details taken care of, you know, just to tidy it up. The planet suggest a modicum of “Virgo busy work” goes a long way to keeping you happy. Still waiting, though, like me, on the Feature Presentation. Soon.

Libra:

My sister in California has an “Earthquake Kit.” My own mother, living in Tornado Alley, North Texas, she’s got a “Tornado Kit.” In Austin, I never had any emergency supplies because, well, trailer park, it would all get blown away, right? However, more as an exercise than any perceptible threat, I’ve got a “Hurricane Kit.” Strong box in a closet, granola bars, beef jerky, Slim-Jims, case of water, some freeze-dried coffee, as well as assorted tools, armament, ammo, that sort of equipment. Fire starters, too, in case I have to start a fire, I guess. Looks like camping equipment, more than anything else. It’s time for Libra to look over the “Hurricane Kit,” or whatever emergency supplies you keep on hand.

Made think of one of my buddy’s ideas, he just stockpiles ammunition. “I won’t have to worry about food, water or power, I can just take all I need.” Valid point but I’m thinking along the lines of no electricity for a few hours, at the most, not a seriously dire situation. Besides, look over what you’ve got, might be time to replace some of the supplies, rotate them out for something fresh. That means, be prepared, but I doubt you’ll need the real emergency supplies.

Scorpio:

Borrowed from a favorite Scorpio author, Kinky Friedman, but borne out by a recent travel experience myself, there seems to a be an inflight regulation that requires a 10-year old in the seat behind me. Travel enough, and I got good at avoiding the little brats, but it did catch up with me. I don’t know how old he was, but he was there, kicking the seat back, for the whole hour-flight. Not that long, but long enough that I couldn’t really concentrate on whatever I was planning to do. Maybe write a better horoscope for Scorpio? Sure, whatever.

This week, as long as the Sun is in Taurus, still? This week’s planets are like that kind, in the seat behind me, kicking the seat. Not enough to be really bad, but more than a minor annoyance. Just enough to keep me from dozing, and the kid’s keeper? An attractive, probably single mom, not exactly thrilled to be stuck next to him. None of this is a deal-killer. None of this is ultimately fatal or too problematic, not for Scorpio. However, I mean, look at it from my understanding, not an unattractive mom, no need to make a big fuss like, “Hey, lady get your brat to quit kicking my seat!”

Besides, with a hat tip to Kinky, there’s an FAA regulation, and we’ve skated for so long without this kind of a disturbance, it was bound to catch up, sooner or later. Look, this is only an hour out of your week, and you might make conversation with the mom, later. Upside, you know?

Sagittarius:

Buddy of mine talked about a fishing trip this month. My buddy? He’s a colossal flake. I know this about him. We’re good friends, but I’ve learned, for years, that I can depend on him for being undependable. I left the weekend open, so we could fish, if that did, indeed happen. I didn’t make any other reservations, though, as I wasn’t going to book a boat, motel, buy bait, none of that until we were on the the road and headed towards water. I know how he works, bless his little heart. His pattern has remained true to form. We didn’t fish that weekend. He’s had some kind of a girlfriend needs him at home, issues crop up, and this isn’t new, either. We are subject to the whims of our women. We can pretend otherwise, but that’s how this works.

For Sagittarius, this week’s energy is about being amenable, bendable, and fluid enough to give in to the demands of our authority figures. It’s also about not having any one calendar item etched in stone. My flaky buddy and me? We’re headed to the lake next week, middle of the week. Why? Because we can. We were fluid with our demands and our reactions to others’ demands on us.

Capricorn:

Cuba, oddly enough, is one of the foremost sources for organic coffee beans. Then, there’s a type of coffee called , “Cubano Coffee,” and the way I understand it? The coffee is espresso with about a tablespoon of sugar, and the purists will opt for the raw sugar, brown sugar, at the bottom of the small cup. Makes for a bitter-sweet, invigorating drink. Then, too, with it’s tropical location, and local crops, Cuban Coffee with Cuban Sugar would be locally sourced, for sure.

Don’t know, I’ve never been to Cuba and it’s not on my immediate itinerary. As a Capricorn, think local. Think about that Cubano Coffee, if it’s a real thing, and then, consider a similar trick to your week’s stars. That tablespoon of sugar, some of it, been my experience, but some of it stays undissolved at the bottom of the cup, in the fine grounds that weren’t quite filtered out, and it makes a gooey, sticky, coffee-flavored mess that’s like an extra kick. We all could use an extra kick, and the caramel-flavor of the raw sugar with that fine coffee residue? Perfect little “oomph” to help make it through the morning, then the afternoon, and then? Next week. Fuel. This week is about finding the right kind of Capricorn fuel.

Aquarius:

Let’s say, you’re in an Aquarius movie, with you a star, then let’s say, like, you’re in a movie, you know, as the hero. Probably more like the anti-hero, being Aquarius and all. You know. Anyway, in this movie, for some semblance of plot, you’re a mass murderer, or better yet, a deranged killer. Far-fetched, but not really, right? Since we’re doing this as a movie, not as real-life, since this is tabloid, celluloid goodness with fake blood and stuff? What would be the Aquarius theme song, for the death, carnage and destruction? Heavy metal? Hard Rock and roll? Something with a techno beat? Hip-hop, rap? Country and Western?

Seriously on that, I mean, really? So what kind of music is your theme music? I prefer something with a orchestral, classical kind of background, like ballet music while fountains of fake blood spurt red juice all over the place. I’d go further and suggest Beethoven, and I’m unsure who would get the literary antecedent on that one, but it was worth a shot. There are two parts of this, one, the violence is cartoon violence. It’s not real. Two, the thematic set-up, the musical interlude and background is part of this idea. “If you hear my song, I’ll be on a murder spree, best to get out of my Aquarius way…”

Pisces:

The name, I never knew it had a name, but the name? “Espresso Romano,” which, as near as I can tell, I first encountered along with motorcycle cafe racers, in cafes — back in the day. It’s a shot of espresso in a demitasse cup with a slice of lemon. I always heard that it was supposed to be some lemon rind, twist that lemon rind for the lemon oil to cut the coffee’s bitter bite.

However, the way I encountered this on one of those “coffee snob” websites, the term was applied to a slice of lemon, like, dropped into the espresso. Weird, I know, but I do know that it will cut the bitter bite. The Italian Espresso Roast, especially that stuff from Italy, those beans, that brand? It does have a bite. Not bad, as that’s the first espresso we got to know and love. But there is a bite to it. To take the sting, the take the bite out of this week? Either a real “Espresso Romano,” or maybe, just a slice of lemon with your daily dose of Pisces bitter. Something to offset the bite to this week’s planets.

Aries:

In Italy, it’s customary to have a milk, milky coffee drinks in the morning, but never after noon. Cappuccino, Latte, and so forth? Before noon, but not after the noon-time meal, supper or dinner. I read it in a work of fiction one time, then it was seriously corroborated by an Italian friend of a friend, so I was guessing, two sources, might be true, then one of the coffee “cognescenti” allowed as how, “That’s the way they do it in Italy.” Three forms of proof, usually good enough, although, of the three, none of them would be permitted in a court of law, but as anecdotal evidence? Sure.

I’m showing all my work, three different sources, and that note from fiction, from a respected author, but again, might all be anecdotes, so who knows? Like I’ve suggested, not really valid in a court of law, but for the illustration purposes? Good enough. “So, I’m not supposed to drink milk in my coffee after noon? Is that all of this week’s horoscope? You make no damn sense some times.”

No, this is about getting at least three sources of data before rendering a decision. This isn’t about coffee. Unless, of course, I’m meeting you in a coffee shop in the afternoon, then yes, no milky coffee drinks after the noon meal. (Think: three, verified sources before the decision.)