- Say, can you fast? Your stomachs are too young,
And abstinence engenders maladies.
Berowne in Shakespeare’s Love's Labor's Lost 4.2.270-1
Horoscopes starting 6.9.2016
It was in Beethoven’s 9th, the Molten Versace in Pesto, about the time I got around to it, I could see the genius in his orchestral work. The progressions and the way the music loops back and is self-referential. In this next few days, Mercury joins Venus and the Sun in Gemini and this spreads love, light, and laughter. Sounds like I’ve been dipping into too much New Age crap, all “love and light.” According to one of Shakespeare’s characters, “Abstinence engenders maladies” (see quote above), cf., Pink Cake, too.
There’s a rhythmical repetition to that classical piece, Beethoven’s 9th, the movement is cited, and it sounded like an Italian dish, but anyway, there’s rhythm in it. With the onset of Mercury? Time to double down. It’s a Gemini thing, twice is much is better, right? Shakespeare supports this idea, that “abstinence engenders maladies,” so use Mercury’s entrance to double-up, double-down, or in some other way, just do twice as much as before. Like Beethoven’s music as it loops back to repeat a refrain? Double-up. Or double-down. One of those.
With the upheaval and changes in the world of music, there’s always the pleasant surprises. Life is all about “B” sides. The Moon Child’s life? This week? “B-sides.” I’m unsure how to properly punctuate the term and for several generations, there’s no understanding of what a Flip-Side, a B-Side, unsure of what that might be.
Originally, single songs were released on single-use, single-play “45’s,” which, in turn, had another song on the other side. The B-Side. Albums, too, were released with the hits, but there would 45 minutes or more of music, so there were some songs that were intended as filler. “B-Sides” was the term. The stuff that was on the other side. CDs don’t need to be flipped over, so the analogy stops dead in its tracks at this point. It’s an older, historical thing.
B-sides are sometimes filler, sometimes clever bits and sometimes there are some real jewels and gems among the unwanted musical tracks. Sometimes, the B-Sides are better. A hit can be snappy, ear-worm material, but the public attention span is fickle, at best. This is a week for Cancer’s “Greatest Near Hits, and closes misses.” I liked the term “close misses” as it encapsulates the idea, the material on B-side that is actually better than the hit on the other side? Near misses that, over time, hold up better. Gather up some of the Cancer B-Sides, see what your personal collection of near-hits shows.
One my neighbors, a stately and elegant gentleman, he was headed out on a Saturday night. Crisp jeans, pressed and starched white shirt, and gorgeous, full-felt (5X) Cowboy Hat. He’s older, retired military, so he has that bearing and sense of propriety that never leaves the career military folks. The hat was what tied it all together and for that matter, sold it, too. I know the guy, we’ve been neighbors for several years now, and he’s been dating the same woman, and I’m pretty sure, last Saturday night, they were going dancing. There’s something in the way he dresses that’s the clue for this week’s Leo — attention to detail.
Attention to the correct uniform. I’m pretty sure my shabby-chic doesn’t go over well with his martial bearing, but I’m not worried. I’m also not a majestic Leo. This is about plumage, appearances and attire. In his case, it was simple, yet spoke volumes. Me? I would find that level of attire incredibly uncomfortable, but I’m not Leo. It’s about suiting up so you can show up. Simple enough, suit up in the proper attire. Whatever the task is at the Leo’s hand? Suit up in the correct attire for the job at hand.
One of my fishing buddies, a Virgo, obviously, one of my buddies recently retired. We hadn’t fished in a few months so we got together to ‘break bread,’ as it were. I got to the diner first, and he showed up, then he had problems sliding his (new) girth into the booth. “That’s retirement,” he laughed at himself, “can’t fit into a booth anymore.”
We looked like a couple of old men in the booth, I had on reading glasses so I could see the calendar on the phone, and he was opting for a senior discount. Time marches on. There’s been some uncomfortable energy, as of late, and with Mercury joining the Sun and Venus in Gemini, that adds a level of possible frustration to the Virgo week. My buddy, perfect example, he’s recently retired so he’s eating more and exercising less, and yet, with all that free time, yes, he’s just getting bigger and bigger. He laughed at it. In another year, he’ll be back down to a more manageable size, but in the process, we have to learn to accept certain limitations. Girth from retirement? Is that such a bad limitation to learn to accept? Helps if you have a buddy like me who is willing to slide the booth’s table over a little to accommodate the Virgo issue.
One of the longest, although, at this time, no longer the longest running animation? Scooby-Doo. When a new generation was singing the song, I knew this was one of those items from popular culture that transcends local time and space. I was thinking about Scooby-Doo, in part, an early editor had an affection for the cartoons, and them, there’s the sense that it was always some darned, meddling kids who ruined whatever it was, whatever chicanery was afoot? Never did seem to be a serious supernatural element, always a Deus Ex Machina, but then, if it isn’t broken? Why change a formula that worked that well, for so many years?
In the next week, it’s those “Darned, meddling kids” that are the source of the Libra ire. Someone poking his or her nose into Libra business we’d prefer to keep to our Libra selves. Here’s an idea, don’t do anything illegal, immoral, or that falls in a grey area. That way? No meddling kids to worry about. Otherwise? Be careful about bragging about exploits that do fall in those grey areas.
It’s those “Darned meddling kids!”
One of my buddies, he owns a T-Bucket '32 Ford, 70's era V-8 makes it sound guttural and almost feral in an old-fashioned way of listening to motors. Open cockpit, not really a daily driver, but he does use it frequently when the weather is nice. Biggest problem? “People stop and talk to you. ‘What is it?’ Plates say ’32, gives it away, along with the side pipes, and yet, they still ask.”
I understand his Scorpio consternation. “I’m an astrologer,” I’ll introduce myself, and immediately some folk upturns a palm and asks me to tell them his or her fortune/future.
Plates on his vehicle say, “Historic Vehicle - 1932,” kind of gives it away. The naked engine compartment, with so much as a glance, anyone can tell that there are 4 exhaust pipes, total of eight, so it’s probably a Ford V-8, and the sound clearly identifies it as one of those mid-century post-modern, before emission controls choked the intake and exhaust.
One of the problems I have is that folks always ask me to read their palms. Not what an astrologer does. My buddy’s ride? Everyone stops and asks what year it was made, and what it is. As a Scorpio, you’re faced with the exact same questions we’ve faced before. Have to answer patiently. No exasperation, even though, “Wow, what year is it?”
Walking into an office, I had my sixth sense turned up too high. I perceived, out of the corner of my eye, strictly peripheral vision, that there was another person sitting there, probably, from the casual, “I didn’t really look,” my perception that the person was in dark cloths and reading a magazine. I signed in, this was a doctor’s office in a strip mall, and then I looked at the person. No one was there. It was a trick of the light, my imagination, a metaphysical moment, as that person, eventually, it became me. I was sitting in the same chair, reading a magazine. I knew I should’ve brought my tablet with me. Anyway, as I sat there. I wondered if I had been seeing a ghost, or other ethereal projection. Not unheard of, but in a strip center?
What I think I saw, in my mind’s eye, thinking back and careful analysis, that was me, seeing me, in a few minutes, sitting there. This kind of weirdness isn’t uncommon at times like this thanks to Mr. Mars. Instead of worrying our way through this possible explanations, I just assume that I jumped ahead for a few minutes and then hopped back in my body. Or ghost, might’ve been a ghost, but who would hang out in an office and read old magazine?
“Do you ever follow your own advice?” Honestly? Yes. I don’t always like my own advice, but there have been a few times when I’ve faced off against my demons, and it was clearly laid out in my stars. I’m a believer, but not always by choice.
We were fishing along side the Intercostal Waterway, fairly common practices and good hunting grounds, but this last spring, with the weird weather? We weren’t catching any big fish. The Red Drum, “Reds” to me, were all just a little under-sized, not big enough to legally keep. It’s game conservation law. The point was, where were anchored, it was fun, with almost every cast catching a fish. Terrific fighters, pull like they are much bigger, but no, all them were not of the “keeper” size.
Catch and release. Each time, I’d gently remove the hook, and tell the fish to “Grow up!” Hopefully, I’ll meet some these guys again. Spring fishing is like that. Great fun, nothing of note, but great fun. As a Capricorn, what can learn from my experience? Have fun with whatever it is. Maybe none of them are keepers, but boating sold to three-dozen fish in a single afternoon? Tons of fun. I do — sometimes — listen to my own advice.
Ever since the transition, I much prefer “electronic” ink to “hard copy.” Usually. E-books are easier for me to read, and now, with the advances in digital book technologies, I can adequately annotate the electronic version. With some eBook formats, I can quickly copy a line or a phrase and paste that into a journal document, as a quotation or point of reference. There comes time, tough, when a paper copy of a book, with some kind of interlinear notations is most valuable. This is one of those times.
One of my reference manuals is thoroughly beaten and bent out of shape copy of Marcus Aurelius. I’ve got notations that date to the previous millennia, I’ve carried that book around me that long. We have to be willing, under this current influence to resist where we’ve been before. That’s why, on rare occasions, I still use books as reference. I prefer reading pop material as digital ink, but some things, like margin notes? Can’t beat them old books for that. Margin notes, that’s where Aquarius is headed. Old margin notes.
One of my girlfriends, we were out the other evening, short stroll. “Hey, I’ve got to stop and pick up some cheap panty hose for work, for tomorrow, okay?”
Hose before bros.
I had to ask. Hose before bros. I toyed with the phrasing and all I ever got was a giggle that I was trying to make something out of this. Office jobs, I guess, to this day, still require, or it is highly recommended, that females wear panty hose, of one sort or another. I’m oblivious to this, but spare me my oblivion. It was Shakespeare (attributed) who probably said it best, “Hose before prose.” There’s a serious kind of weirdness still loose upon our world, and if you’re not careful you get stuck with bad jokes, ill-timed remarks, perhaps some upset, and then? You’re stuck with an ear worm about “Hose before grows,” as there was a grocery store, or “Hose before bros.,” or any other variant. So this week is about absurdities. Or it’s about a Shakespeare quote, “Hose before prose.”
Love me some Texas twang (music). There are crooners and balladeers, and any number of singer-songwriters that fall into this rich vein of local talent. It’s a good gig, I suppose. The story line is familiar, though, high-school age girlfriend, lost in the exigencies of time. We can’t go back. For many of these country crooners, though, it seems like there’s been a spate of them lately, songs about that old, high-school girlfriend. Really? Seriously? Can’t go back to that version of childhood. Not sure we would want to, either. However, according to the latest round of ballads and such, mostly with that twang to them, the old high-school flame still burns bright.
There’s an Aries element that wants to go back to that flame of the past. There’s an Aries element that is drawn to a former love, maybe a former lover, and there’s an element that suggests, this isn’t a good idea. Enjoy the moment of reverie, but don’t get sucked down the long and treacherous passed of memories that should stay as faded memories. As an Aries, if you’re reading this, as an Aries, you moved on. You have to keep moving forward.
Dropping into the past, trying to reconnect on some level? As a passing acquaintance, that’s OK. Trying for anything else? Maybe not right now.
Pretty easy for me to tell when someone’s been “feng-shui’ed” as there are telltale symbols all around. My favorite is nine, round(ish) “pebbles” in the guest bathroom sink. Rock, earth elements, tend to ground the negative aspects of an open drain, so that’s typical fix. It’s also weird. “What, are you washing these rocks?” Or, “What are you washing these rocks for?”
The list goes on.
That’s one of the “feng-shui” tricks that doesn’t exactly work with “western” civilization. To be sure, I find amusing, and there’s a solid basis as it does make the bathroom feel more warm and inviting, more secure and less likely to flush away any “chi,” or whatever the “feng shui” trick is, yes, it’s good and it works. But it looks silly. I have a work-around, the big box stores sell kitchen sink mats that looking like round pebbles. It’s like a cheater’s guide to making the Taurus home happier and more hospitable. Right now, this week, we need a “cheater’s guide” to working around some issues. Look, I’m not saying put nine rocks in your sink. But look for that cheater’s guide to Feng Sui that really works? There’s a simple work-around for the Taurus week, and there’s no need to spend a lot of time or money, fixing this to make it better.