Horoscopes starting 1.19.2017

    “I see it feelingly.”

Gloucester in Shakespeare’s King Lear (4.vi.128)

The Sun Enters the Tropical Zodiac Sign of Aquarius at 3:23 PM, CST (plus or minus, your mileage may vary, see local dealer for details.)

Horoscopes starting 1.19.2017



The Water Bearer

All I did was leave my socks on. No big deal, right? Maybe not a big deal to some, but it is kind of a big deal to me. Cold, winter morning, me, in a robe, not much else, shivering, and I was thinking I had to go someplace, so I started to get dressed.

I pulled on socks.

I take great pride in mis-matched tube socks as what I wear underneath my boots. Only, after I pulled on the socks, I got distracted, and I padded around the house with my feet in socks. Only, now, after socks, my toes weren’t cold.

It’s such a simple solution, obvious to some, and yet, I missed it for a long time. I’ve gotten striated in my patterns, I’ll wear boots, cowboy boots, and I have the mismatched socks for that, handmade, cowboy boots, made in Texas, or I’ll wear sandals. There isn’t a lot of ground between the two. One, or the other, one requires socks and the other requires no socks. This addition, wearing socks but no shoes? It goes against every fiber in my being, screaming, “No! Nooooooo….” However, pause, think about it, warm toes, looks silly, but I’m at home, no one sees, right? It’s OK. It’s going to be OK. Super simple solution to a complex problem, sort of a mediated half-way point.

Aquarius: Simple adjustment. Try leaving your socks on. Keeps the toes warm. simple adjustment, although, it did, at first, go against the very fiber of my being, to wear socks with no boots.



The Fishes

One website I stumbled across was a very zen-like series of desktops, work surfaces and office-like environments. For those of us who, perhaps we office at home, or free-lance, part of the “hired gun” set-up? For those of us, the workspace is both important, and for a little while, it was neat to see what others were doing.

However, I started to suspect that there was an element of the surreal that was part of the images. The desks, they were always too clean. My wallet, a hair tie, possibly an every-day-carry pocketknife, lip balm, watch, phone, blank sticky-notes, maybe a few notes stuck to the monitor’s edge, reminders to get milk and eggs at the store, today? I’ve graduated from one cup with pens, pencils, screwdrivers in it, I’ve moved to more than one cup with that crap, now with pliers, markers, nail file, and a tiny pen light. Just work materials that accumulate along the edges of the real, working desks.

One of the merchants I work alongside, he decided he didn’t want to pack up boxes of a certain mineral, so he handed them out as pairs of cubes, selenite, I think, said it was best right beside a computer, to help prevent negative ions. More crap I’ve accumulated.

    A clean desk is a sure sign of insanity.

Pisces: When we look at the pictures, of clean desks, or work spaces, or whatever? Is it real? Or is that staged?



The Ram

Putatively, the “Winter” months, for me, I tend to move towards a “grey scale” type of arrangement; I’d suggest that for Aries, as well. Think “Gray Scale,” not bright colors. My jeans, for example, they were once labeled, “Black,” but over the years, the jeans have faded some, more along the lines of grey. At least one Aries will make a “Shades of Grey” joke, and that isn’t what this is about.

This is about grey scales, grey, fuzzy lines, and how those grey, fuzzy lines don’t give a decent Aries a good indication, one way or another. “But I have to know, right now!”

The stars, planets, really,
incline but do not dictate.

The message, the messages, are that there are grey lines, fuzzy and indistinct markers between areas. The best way to move yourself forward? Consider following the grey, fuzzy lines as indistinct markers, more like a setting on a compass, vaguely facing north, or south, or east, or west, to whatever way you think you should be going. General direction, fuzzy lines, and we’ll all get a better sense direction the near future, but until then? Yeah, sure blindly charge forward, Aries. Just remember that the direction “Forward,” it’s described by those fuzzy lines. It’s more general direction and less a distinct destination.

Blame me. Blame the planets. But move “forward-ish,” as described by the indistinct lines.



The Bull

I had on a hoodie, from a surfing place in Cal. Jeans, boots, and t-shirt on, underneath the hoodie, kind of my relaxed, normal way of dressing on a typical winter afternoon in January. I met with some friends about a thing, you know, more casual and less formal, just a meet-and-greet, but then, it being January, I was pressed into service for talking about the up and coming astrology.

Ever heard of an “Elevator Pitch?”

The 30-second intro, who I am, what I do, and then, a longer version, about what’s coming up in the next year. I had the stage, wasn’t really a stage, more like a semi-circle of interested parties, and so I droned on. I wasn’t expecting to be front and center, if I was, I’d wear nicer jeans, a clean t-shirt, and maybe a sports jacket instead of a hoodie. I was casual and relaxed, and it turned into a casual — and relaxed — discussion. However, the selling point, from what I gathered later, was the hoodie, from a real surf shop on the surfer’s coast, Northern Cal. Added verisimilitude to my relaxed look. I didn’t plan it, but the way it worked? Came off perfect. Came out perfect. As a Taurus, be prepared with the elevator pitch, the 10-minute overview of what the next year looks like, something.

Taurus: “I wasn’t expecting to talk, but on that subject….”



The Twins

Corresponding with some tech support, tangential tech support, I was in a conversation with some folks in Northern Cal. North California, south of Oregon, but not by much. I finally figured out what the problem was. Too many surfers and not enough sharks. Given that the surfers tend to consume certain mildly psychotropic substances (get stoned), maybe the sharks are high, or something, from eating too many surfers. Still, more sharks. Be much better. The folks in Northern Cal need something to give them a little more edge. Get up to speed with the way things are in the real world.

“But, like, this is the real world, like, you know?”

My problem was resolved but I wasn’t too happy about it. question was answered. As a Gemini, you feel my angst and frustration. It feels like you’re dealing with a very similar energy this week. Not enough sharks. Just a few more predators would help add some zest to the games. Just up the drive, just to crank it up a notch. I’ve fished in shark-infested waters, so I know, and it’s not really an issue. Just means we’re all more circumspect. Like I suggested, the answer to this week’s Gemini problem? More sharks; fewer surfer dudes.

Gemini: The problem? It’s probably not going to happen, just letting your Gemini self know that. Not enough sharks.



The Crab

I flipped the Cancer charts backwards and forwards, trying to get a decent image, more an image in my head, rather than an image on the page, about what was happening. I understand that there will be a degree of clarity, where a previously occluded image or scenario can be seen for its true nature.

Perhaps this is a person about whom you were either concerned or irritated. Perhaps this is a situation where that irritation or concern was. Maybe, it’s just the planets. The more I teased the charts, the more I poked and prodded, the more I tried to boil this all down to a simple phrase? All I kept hearing, in my mind, was to “See feelingly.” The biggest problem with that term, “See feelingly?” Source, attribution, and madmen. With Cancer, this week, it’s possible, even beneficial to “See feelingly,” sure, but like the original source? Careful that we don’t take it one step too far into madness.

Caution, yet, “see feelingly.”

The Leo:

The Leo

The Leo

The most perfect way to start your New Year? Get a tattoo. Doesn’t have to be a lot of ink, although, I know one Leo with a sleeves on both sides, literally awash in ink, but no, this advice varies individual to individual. This could be a tramp stamp, a tiny bunny on one ankle, or lord knows what else. The deal is, as a writer, the way I’d like to see this Leo tattoo appear? As ink, in script, you choose the lettering style, maybe archaic, maybe gothic, maybe “olde englishe,” which really isn’t, but that doesn’t matter, does it?

Leo: That tattoo? What it should say?

Leo: “Nothing is permanent.”

It’s perfect; it’s The Perfect Leo statement.



The Virgin

The perfect image for Virgo? It’s the “Fat Buddha,” which, if you pause long enough to learn anything about buddhist traditions, he’s really a buddhist monk, not “The Buddha.” The fat monk is our common, western, misconception. It’s an image that get perpetrated throughout the inter-webs, and it is patently false. So it’s usually a copy of the fat monk, and underneath him, or over him, integral in the image’s meme quality, there’s those block letters, “You got to let that chit go, homie.”

Between the dated urban slang, the incorrect Buddhist attribution, and the general maligning several major belief systems, there’s still a message. There’s an opportunity, in this next part of the lunar cycle to let some of the Virgo burden go. A chance to let some past grievance and the harm you’ve carried forward from that point, some injury, some pain, time to surrender that to whatever you believe in, at this moment.

Buddha, Bubba, some
days, not much difference.

However, the humorous image? That’s the secret, as it’s not factually even close to being real, and as an ancillary note, I always love the similar image, a real image of Buddha, “80% of the quotes on the internet attributed to me are not mine.”

“You got to let that chit go, homie.”



The Scales

Many years ago, the “paleo” cooking fad caught up with me, and it was a natural extension from “low carb.” BBQ, with a green salad? Naturally low-carb. Worked for years, for me. I toyed with “paleo,” never fully committing to it because, well, I live in a place where TexMex is king. Can’t escape that. However, over the years, I’ve discovered that bacon grease is one of nature’s best lubes for cooking. It appears to have better staying power and certainly better cooking qualities especially when compared to coconut oil, the other, really popular “paleo” grease.

Maybe it’s because I was raised with Southern Sensibilities, part of my family lineage is old deep south. Maybe, over the years, I’ve discovered that, in my kitchen, a little bacon grease works wonders for food prep. Flavor, won’t stick the frying pan, lasts for days at a time unused, higher or lower flash point, I have no idea, and it’s readily available, just drain it off the bacon. Perfect. Useful ingredient. It’s a lubricant, and it’s useful for flavoring, cooking. This week? In Libra? There’s a need for dash of “Cosmic Bacon Grease” in the frying pan of the stars. It’s not bad, it’s just the preferable, and allegedly more healthy version is coconut oil? It’s too fickle, like it doesn’t fry well at the higher heats. The coconut flour is okay, I mean I use it for many cooking chores, but this week’s Libra? Bacon grease.

Libra: Bacon grease, real or cosmic.



The Scorpio

This is a dangerous week for Scorpio. The danger is from the monster within. The danger is unrepentant drives and desires, wishes, hopes, and dreams. Some dreams are best left unfulfilled. There’s a key piece of technology, probably from a company with either an “i” in front of the device’s name or some space-age name, invoking stellar bodies far away. Either way, it’s techno-lust. The back of the Scorpio lizard-brain screams, “I need this, now!”

The Scorpio available cash resources suggest that it’s a ticklish, at best, situation.

Maybe. Maybe not.

The ancestral Scorpio brain screams again, “Need!” The rational — and modern — Scorpio brain thinks, “Want? Yes. Need? Maybe not.” The dilemma, and the answer? Not yet. I’ll agree you deserve a break. I’ll agree that you might, indeed need that object of techno-lust, and I’ll even suggest you should scout out places to acquire that object of Scorpio lust and desire. However, I’d also suggest, this week? Yeah, don’t give in, not yet.

Scorpio: There’s promise of better deal, next week.




There are some days, and we have no choice. Some days, the avenue is clear. Other days, it is a murky, indistinct route. Laughter is our best ally, at times like this. The planets are doing two things, to Sagittarius, basically. One is quite humorous, as there’s the Sag’s ability to laugh at anything. 

“This will work out, somehow!”

Such a comment is usually followed by gales of laughter, and Sag’s, like myself, we tend to have a goofy-sounding laugh. The other planet action is asking for a judgement call about a relationship issue.

There’s an old comedy routine I used to use, imagine a woman asking me, “Does this dress make me look fat?” There are no right answers, not according to the classic terms of comedy. It’s an old routine, I’ve used this as an example, and I’m bringing it back up because, for Sagittarius, translate this to your own situation, but there are — appear to be — no right answers. We can cry and bemoan our collective Sagittarius fates, or we can laugh about this.

Sagittarius: Your choice, Sag., laugh or cry. With that duality? Laughter can be the best medicine, for this week.



The Sea Goat

This week’s set of horoscopes open with a quote from Shakespeare’s play, King Lear. Brilliant tragedy, but also, for some us, a play that’s really hard to watch when it’s well-done because the pain is too real. One staged version, I was doubled-over in emotional pain, it felt that real.

So, to make it through this next few days? “See feelingly.”

So, I was crossing a busy street, me and my pedestrian ways, and I paused. Light turned yellow. I stopped on the curb. Light changed to red. Big truck, loud side-pipes, went blowing through the intersection, I never saw the truck coming, but if I’d stepped out, I would’ve been tragically flattened.

Capricorn: Pause to “see feelingly,” like me, and we can prevent a tragic Capricorn mishap.



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