Web Journal astrofish.net for Scorpio, 2001:

11/22
Last day of Scorpio, and T-day. "Welcome to Fernwood!" Going to have to run up and down the coast highway today, fetching folks to and from airports and motels. Less of a holiday and more of a driving experience. I maintain that I'm the best driver in the family — not much of a comparison there — and Sister is quick to dispute the facts, but as with all Gemini's, get her talking and driving at the same time, and she can't get anything done.... Weird [Scorpio] experience: I was sitting in the folk's motel room, listening while a big horse fly was buzzing around. Suddenly the tone of the buzz accelerated. Caught in a spider's web. It's like watching the Nature Channel, only better, it was real life. That fly got to sing before she was sucked dry by the long–legged spider. Mr. Spider had an early Thanksgiving. Pa Wetzel and I journeyed as far south as the Hearst Castle, and we climbed 150 steps of the basic tour, just to see everything there was to see. I took a couple of pictures in the gardens and grounds, one was this really weird flower I've never seen before, blooming upside down, brilliant red and purple blooms. Stopped off to see some Elephant Sea Lion seals, and the one "alpha male" must've weighed more than the rent car. I was trying to get a decent picture of his harem, but none of the girls were really posing in a position that captured the right image. The similarities between the huge seals and my cat, though, it was a stunning parallel [size, texture, demeanor].
11/21
"Have an Austin day," something I recently read. What's an Austin day? I was tipping the cab driver a couple of extra bucks, but in the pre–dawn darkness, I mistook a $20 for $5. As he hauled my luggage out of the trunk, he handed it back to me, along with a receipt. Yeah, now that's an Austin day. Austin days lead to California Coast nights. Drove the folks up and around the area a little, doing the best of the tourist thing. Now this one was weird: downtown Caramel — I know I've been there before. I think. Maybe all the towns in California do look the same, almost like a movie set or something. At dinner, Sister had me laughing pretty hard, almost good enough to get me to pass food through my nose. I'm not sure, though, it's not as amusing the next morning when your Sister is bouncing up and down on the cabin's front step, pounding on the door.
11/20
I hate staggering to the airport when it's so cold and dark. The first stirrings of the cold front hit South Austin, ruffling the water's surface, just before noon. After yesterday's exchange of e–mail regarding a complaining Cancer, I realized that I could lose the sensitivity that I display towards such unsolicited critiques. But if I were to shake loose that sensitive nature, then I would neither enjoy what I do, nor, for that matter, would I ever give myself any room to grow. Or, for that matter, would the scopes matter much. Unrelated, and back to happy thoughts, I was dealing with a torrent of spam, and one was from a place soliciting cheap legal advice. I was sorely tempted to ask about suing spammers for loss in revenue due to their abuse of my private e–mail and the amount of time they usurp from my other occupations. Had to squeeze in one more reading yesterday evening, and ran into friends at the diner. Rather an amusing evening, but I totally screwed up my schedule — ain't nobody's fault by mine.
11/19
Disappointed? The difference between this and this?
11/19/01 8:38 AM, ya'll Bonusberg@aol.com wrote:
> sign: Cancer
> TalkToKramer: Kramer i wouldn't mind buying mdse on your site if the
> horoscopes weren't rehashed. Cancer this week is same as Capricorn a few
> weeks ago. Memory like an elephant. I am disappointed in you.
Yes, it's disappointing when one can't tell the difference between a single long shot and a long winning streak. Jupiter — now retrograde — is in Cancer — opposite Capricorn — until around next July. I'm sure I'll use the long–shot versus long winning streak metaphor again, as appropriate. I've been writing horoscopes, off and on, for over 15 years now. Not something that I deliberately set out to do, just sort of happened. A couple of years back, one Virgo cooked up the expression, "low brow mystic," and I liked that handle. Breakfast yesterday was at Fran's, an old favorite. My Pisces friend was bemoaning her fate, as her Virgo significant other had taken off to go fishing, "All he did was kiss me, not even a hug." "Yeah," interjected another Pisces present, "heard him from the house, 'tuck and roll, baby,' and then she was on our doorstep." He called, a few hours later, just to let me know that the fish were biting. "Only caught six, so far...." Glad to hear someone was lucky. Best pick–up line I think I've ever heard at an event? "Hey, come on over here and sit in the pyramid — it's free." Maybe I'll try that some time. Missed something here, last week, this web journal was three years' old.
11/18
Work. Fried turkey [advertising, but I couldn't resist.] Breakfast tacos at the Tamale House. A Scorpio b–day for dinner. Lot's of Virgo's all day long, for some unknown reason, "Kramer, you're wearing Virgo bait." Looking confused, "What's that?" I asked."A pocket protector," the Virgo sitting next to me replied. Sort of hard to wear a pocket protector in a pocketless shirt — maybe it was a "psychic pocket protector." I'll ask about that one today. I was SO glad when the moon finally slipped into Capricorn last night — tired of the emotional rollercoaster ride of a Sagittarius new moon.
11/17
Fond memory: as a kid, my father — Pa Wetzel, ever the engineer — used to tell me that the way oil spots look in the rain, that sheen of rainbow colors, flattened against the pavement, those were supposedly TV signals fallen from the sky during a thunder storm. Saw a thin sheen of oil the other day that prompted me think of that. That was, of course, before the skies opened up and dropped 13 inches on us. I went back to Threadgill's for meeting a client, back to Jo's for coffee, and then we did something a little different. A UT film student [Virgo] wanted to do an "experimental documentary about astrology and psychics and stuff." I sat outside Jo's, coffee cup in hand, and talked about astrology for an hour. Don't know how much will make the show, but it was an interesting exercise. There's a reason I like Virgo's so much. Now, the question is, with all the rain, will my fishing buddy be at the show today, bragging about having been fishing? Or will he be muttering about the weather and not being able to go fishing?
11/16
Ever have a fight with a fax machine? I woke up very late, missing two phone calls, only to hear the fax machine belching paper. Smooth marketing: unsolicited e–mail then a follow–up fax. No, I'm not interested in buying any domain names. I already own one. That's enough. I kept cutting the fax off, and they kept resending it. Some days, I have to face the toughest decisions: shorts or long pants? My first guess was jeans, but ambling over to the Shady Acre's postal boxes, I decided maybe shorts would work. Might be the last time. Means I would have less wet clothing to wear — soft, gentle winter's rain. Met a client at Threadgill's, then met another, then took a short ride with a Gemini to Jo's, where we were going to sit in the afternoon drizzle, and watch the folks go by. I looked up and noticed that 1] it was raining harder and harder and 2] some of the clouds were moving south while other clouds were moving west. Hopped on back to the trailer park to secure things — after all, every one knows that trailer parks are a natural target for a tornado. From the yesterday's news reports, apparently there was a twister sighting, right in my own zip code. A little later, what I heard from someone else, "Shoal Creek ran over its shores — they were rescuing people on Lamar Ave. with JetSki's." In other news, if I was trying to scare us, I would certainly make sure I found this. I'm not sure if the threat of terrorism is more scary than seeing an ad for a fake card reader on an astrology web site. Yes, she's an actress from B–Movies and bad 80's television.
11/15
Duck Soup, Marx Brothers film, is perhaps one of their finest, and in its own way, one of the finest satiric films ever made. It's about war. Isn't that the test, how it compares to the current state of affairs, if the satire is still good, and the jokes are still funny, almost 70 years later? I wonder if I'll still be considered amusing 70 years from now? As it stands, about half the mail load is full of "you suck" messages, and of that, I'm torn, I write something nice — and I'm wrong, then I'm a bad person. Or, if I write something with a strong warning, and it turns out correct, then I'm bad person for writing something negative. I'm going back to Marx Brothers satire — much more amusing, and it stands up to repeated viewing. Funny thing, so do my scopes [stand up to repeated viewing].
This one's for my Cousin Bob, someplace in Washington State, I think: Why older women are better — because, if it's not a serious emergency, the older girls don't panic. If it's not arterial blood, they just put a band–aid on it, pat you on the head and tell you "everything's going to be all right." Severe a limb? Between carpool and career, they'll drop you — and the limb — off at the hospital so it can get sewed back on. No panic. You want to go out fishing with your buddies and get stupidly intoxicated? That older woman will let you, no problem. She'll even be vaguely amused by your drunken antics. [But don't push your luck.] True story: me and my single mom date were laying in bed, post–coital bliss, the phone rings, "Yes, yeah, okay," she says to the phone, then turns to me, "got to go get the youngest at the school dance. Bye." She's pulling on her clothes as she's leaving, I'm talking to the door, "No hugging, no cuddling, no pillow talk, HEY, LOCK THE DOOR ON YOUR WAY OUT! Thanks." Warm up the bed, fluff up the covers, then leave? Certainly has the cat's approval.
11/14
I had an interesting phone call yesterday morning, my old army buddy, we had dinner on Saturday night, he was just remarking about a few things, "Let me say this about that...." I found some of his discussion about faith intensely interesting. He got me hooked on Marcus Aurelius some years ago. For a stoic like myself, it's highly recommended. After seeing him, I picked up my copy again, and read the introduction by the translator. Apparently, about a century ago, this text was a very popular bit of wisdom. Two or three e–mails suggested that folks were upset with me for asking for money. E–mail's been running about 50/50 on "love you"/"hate you" this week. Digging a little deeper, I found that lots of people complain at this time of the year, loudly, vehemently, and with malice. Almost all the planets are in fixed sign, either Scorpio or Aquarius — I call it like I see it — I'm just tired of the slings and arrows of others' outrageous misfortune. Can't say I didn't warn you. For me, Saturn is the culprit, and he's at a point where I have to decide whether to push forward with writing or find another source of reliable income. I'd say it's a tough call, but the heartfelt — and very positive notes — indicate that I'm doing the right thing. When the Sun and the Moon are both in Scorpio, that's the dark of the moon for this month. But it's also a fixed water sign. Water is emotional whereas fixed is [Scorpio–like] relentlessly stubborn.
11/13
For some reason, "Tuesday the 13th" doesn't scare me. How about "Wednesday Nights with Bubba"? That could scare me. Moon was still in Libra, and I stuck with the theme of Capricorn for the day. Before noon, the red–head and I did a quick spin around the lake trail under a still balmy but cloudy, gray sky — discussing plane crashes amid rumors of war. After that, the clouds opened up, and it started to pour. The two things I love most about my lifestyle, and the choices I've made, are exploring Texas and exploring people. The varieties of culture in Texas give me an endless, life–long source of material, whereas astrology gives me a framework on which to hang information about people. Sure beats Dr. Freud's way of always blaming your mother [although, according to my cat, it is all Ma Wetzel's fault.] I was looking for alternate avenues of work, and what I kept turning up were astrologers with highly specialized fields of study, long, technical articles that are boring or don't have enough information to help me, or mystical stuff that doesn't have a lot to do with real astrology. Myth and magic are great, but it's not quite the same thing. That's why I steer far away from the title, "psychic," whenever possible. Some people take this stuff a little too serious. I was thinking up new titles, and the first one that came to mind, was one step ahead of the bedroom astrologer, how the bathroom astrologer? Even fits better — some Capricorn writes in, and wants to know what my problem is. "None," was my response — I was around nothing but Capricorn's all day yesterday.
11/12
Not sure about the new layout. I think it's more an incremental change. It was only after that second cup of coffee that I realized a way to exploit the existing design and add to it at the same time — although the first try didn't work too well. All hail coffee. The cat has expressed extreme contempt in her recent [minor] diet changes. She showed me by doing her hairball hack in the middle of the night, on the foot of the bed. At least the bedspread is easy to wash. From the e—mail bag:
> as you're my favorite ungroomed astrologer
> in the neighborhood.
Which begs the question, there's a groomed astrologer running around here? In my ungroomed state, I took off for an afternoon hike. While I had the best of intentions, my feet went left when they should've gone right, right when I was surely better off with the left, and I was following a creek upstream. The path alongside went past an old Libra girlfriend's apartment, which got me thinking about another old Libra girlfriend, now deceased. If only I'd done something different, she might still be around, right? Grim and faulty line of reasoning. I trailed uphill for while, and then cut over to Congress, then back down to Magnolia. On certain occasions, like a deceptively balmy afternoon, nothing beats comfort food. From the squirrel activity I noted, I would say we've got a cold winter on its way. Now, on that walk, I was reminiscing about two Libra's. When I got to Magnolia, it was all about Capricorn's, a redhead, Frank, and so forth. When I got home, the calls were all from Aries. All Cardinal signs. All day. Libra Moon — just a coincidence, I'm sure.
11/11
The kitchen faucet is leaking. Ever try and find a special washer for a "modern" 1971 trailer? I was researching a lyric for an upcoming horoscope, so I slid in a Garth Brook's CD. Listened to it all the way through, next up was Faster Pussycat. 90's "Hat Act" followed by 80's "Hair Metal." What comes next? Unrelated, all about Pay Pal. [via Slashdot.] More unrelated news: more than 97% of the hits on this site are from Mozilla 4 browsers. Might as well finish the CD music set — 70's Art Rock, I was leaning towards a personal fave, ELP, but I dragged out YES instead. 60's? Essential Bob Dylan. 50's? How about Carl Perkins? Fished this out the mail box:
> TalkToKramer: hey, good man...your web pages
> are great.extremely well done.it
> is too bad you can not know how many
> individuals you impact with your
> personality and brightness. there is
> a sense of honesty about you and in this
> interminable display of dishonesty that we
> suffer through during these
> times...you are a god send(whose ever yours is)
> as the phrase goes. hang in
> man...we do care...wonderful effort you make
> and great result.
I've been a little despondent as of late, seems like this page and its host isn't really generating what it could be. And unless a magazine or similar periodical picks me up for a monthly column, I'll be dropping the monthly scope. It served its time, worked for a few years, and it was, at a time, amusing. It was written on airplanes, in departure lounges, and when Mercury was retrograde. But it's not fun anymore — too much like real work — and it's work I'm not being paid for. Plus I'm really tired of people signing up for the newsletter then complaining about it being spam. 99% advertising free. The flip side of that is the weekly. What, 8 Sunday's until I get weekend off? I'll be moving its publication date to Thursday morning. It's not going away anytime too soon. I still thoroughly enjoy that effort — and that's the key to having a good life, isn't it? Find what you enjoy, and then do it? Do something that I'm passionate about? That's the secret. Now, if this would only pay, I'd be set. Which brings me back to the inherent question to begin with, about length. The average daily astrology column is 2 lines, a handful of words. The rest of the weeklies I've looked at run around 50 to just shy of 100 words per sign. Mine is double that. It's something that darn editor told me a long time ago, and it stuck: "write for content, not length."
11/10
Mark this day, mark it well. I changed the trailer's thermostat from "AC" to "heater." Did I ever mention that I hated the holiday season? All the fake "spirit of kindness" stuff, and the real marketing push to make me want certain things in my life — as if some kind of new device, toy, bauble, article of clothing will make my life complete. Knock on the trailer's door yesterday morning, "Dude, check it out, I'm living in an apartment now." The Neighbor moved. Bummer, man. Lots of free entertainment is now gone. So's the TV. Or moved across the street, I guess it's matter of perspective. In my case, I'll miss the action. I won't miss the amount of racket generated during a Cowboy's game. Otherwise, though, how am I supposed to find out who's been abducted by space aliens? And what the rogues on the night crew are doing? All the good gossip, where will I ever find a replacement? I'm worried now, about a different subject. The column I just finished up yesterday morning topped the word processor at just under 3,100 words. Is that too long? Too much information? I've tried "theme" horoscopes before — didn't work. I keep wanting to completely redesign the website, add some flash and splash, but every time I sit down with "blueprints," the very thought of sorting through all the mess that's grown by accretions, bit by bit, it all scares me. Way too much work.
11/9
Messing around with graphical interface issues, waiting on certain people to show up, too much coffee — potentially a bad combination — the web master will break my fingers. Or the fashion police will come after me — not that I'm too concerned. Like this is a surprise? Something fishy was going on yesterday, I got in from a walk, and fixed a tuna sandwich, part for me, part for the cat. My Pisces friend calls for dinner. We had South First Street Sushi. The cat has been so wonderful about posing for the kitty cam that I was going to reward her with fresh litter. So last night, it was off to the pet super store. As I meandered amongst the racks of stuff, stopping off to pet a kitten up for adoption, and doing my best to observe the staff and customers, I couldn't help but wonder, in the wake of the President's speech, what an odd looking lot of folks were in the store, on dark November night, all these strange people, buying too much stuff for their animal companions. Wait, I was there, too — was I as strange as everyone else?
11/8
From the e–mail:
> Ah, the keen wit of the Sagittarian
> astrologer. Nothing compares to it.
More BBQ. And another Gemini waitress. My dinner companion looked askance as I carefully wrapped up some brisket — a taste test for the cat. Apparently, brisket was a big hit with the cat. Although, I must say I was disappointed, as I walked home with brisket in my pocket. No dogs followed me home. Walking into the Shady Acres park, a girl with a Louisiana dog nodded hello, but even then, her dog didn't take any interest in me — whatsoever. I mentioned brisket in my pocket. Near as I could tell, being from Louisiana and all, that dog probably didn't find the brisket had enough spice. Then, yesterday evening, talking with a friend on the phone, "Well, if you don't want to have dinner tonight then, I guess, I'll just go to Wal–Mart and buy some bullets." [She was planning on going shooting. "Shooting what? Live targets?" I asked. "No, silly, go the shooting range."] I was all curled up, a little later, flannel pajamas on, reading, when the phone rang. It had that insistent, angry quality. "Did I ever tell you that all girls are incredibly psychotic?" Bubba asked, "and what are you doing for dinner?" His social life has, as of late, made me look like a veritable angel. I was treated to an hour or more of his haranguing [Gemini] barrage of words, diatribe, and so forth. We dined at Guero's, me hoping that some tequila would calm him down. It did. I asked for a cup of coffee, after the meal, and he had the best line I've heard in while, "He likes his coffee like his women: strong, bitter, and less than two dollars."
11/7
If you don't vote, you can't complain. I called my politically active Pisces, "I'm supposed to vote 'NO' correct?" "Yes, except for the water to the colonias, vote 'yes' on that." Right. Got it. I took off in the middle of the afternoon, ambling up and down Congress Avenue, stopped a few places, begged a Leo banker for money, felt silly for being escorted across one street by a school crossing guard, "Hey, man, it's my job, you know?" He grinned a toothless grin, holding up a stop sign. Not two blocks from a heavily vegetarian restaurant, there's a sign at a butcher shop, "Please take all wild game to the back." The worst part of yesterday afternoon was the weather, it was too hot to wear a shirt and too cool [in the shade] not to wear a shirt. Don't you just hate that? Delicious breakfast at Magnolia — yet again — served up by a Gemini this time, a lovely lass. Can it still be called breakfast if it's served in time for high tea?
11/6
Interesting stuff in that cowboy singer's bio. Western Underground — as the title suggests — is perhaps one of the best collections. A cowboy who rocks? It was interesting, I saw a familiar name on that site, which lead to this site, and that's the legendary Buffet accomplice. Strange how one can find connections on the net. Yesterday afternoon, along came an e–mail, asking me to do a free daily horoscope. I responded politely I hope, but the grind of a daily is just too much — can't do that one for free. Since writing a real horoscope [which involves actually charting the planets] takes so much time, I'm tapped out at a weekly format. Only eight more Sundays and counting.
11/5
Too much is sometimes just too much. Was it the fact that I skated through security stuff? [I was wearing shorts and sandals, it's not like I was trying to prove anything, or that I'm any sort of a dangerous fellow — the only thing I've got that's sharp is my wit, and that's quite questionable.] Or maybe it was the Pisces and our failed attempt to get some dinner last night, back in Austin. One of the first things I saw in Dallas was brand new, bright red Ferrari F 350. The only other vehicle with that designation is a real impressive truck, a Ford truck. Those trucks require two zip codes and when you want to back one up in Austin, you need to check with Waco for space. For the price of that one, red car, you could buy a whole block of Shady Acre's trailers. Ma Wetzel got a pair of Pink Flamingos I picked up in El Paso a while back. I thought the visual appeal of shiny porcelain against Henri Moore wildlife prints was good.
11/4
Dallas — if, as the Flatlanders musically suggest, "Dallas is a like rich man with a death wish in his eye," then what is Fort Worth? The sage cousin who doesn't desire such a violent end? But then, why all the rodeo emphasis? Best T-shirt? "Rodeo Princess." In Austin, the young females at the Broken Spoke all have the requisite hardpack of Marlboro Lights stuck in their front pocket of the jeans. In Fort Worth, it's a little different. The females seem to tuck the same brand and box of cigarettes into their back pockets. It's like a badge or something.
11/3
I keep wondering how many times I can write about riding to the airport, or riding on a plane? Where's the interest in that? But a cool Fall morning in Texas, the light slowly leaking into the sky, the brilliant fire orange tinted with red hues at dawn, the fisher–birds still asleep at the waterfront, it's such an idyllic scene. Punctuated by a cab ride with the cabbie watching daytime TV, and howling a the show's comments. Plus there's dinner with Ma Wetzel, trying to find some place she likes. Took her to Palomino — and successfully didn't reach fast enough to pick up the check, "I trained him well," Pa Wetzel observed. I Snuck out from the folk's place last night to catch Joe Ely at Billy Bob's in Cowtown. Ft. Worth Fashion tip: sparkly, shiny snakeskin pants. Sliver, shiny, sparkly, shiny snakeskin pant.
11/2 [off to the airport]
Got together with [Janice] after the radio show. Tried to talk business or other stuff, but just wound up chatting. Between going to bed too late and waking up too early, too much coffee, not enough sleep, too much radio, not enough sleep, I was a dead man by the time I rolled into the trailer, a little before noon, with not enough sleep. It was nice seeing her, though, sort of weird. Black shorts, black sandals, black cowboy shirt [leftover from the night before], black T–shirt, I was trying to claim I was a Goth. Didn't work. "I usually wear black all the time," she said, "no one confuses me with a goth." I guess Goths don't wear loud print Hawaiian shirts, like I did last night, just going back to Magnolia for the second time to meet a client. Weirdest thing, coming home, wandering around the revelers on South Congress, I kept running into people I knew. Virgo, Aquarius, Leo.... and tons of Capricorn's. Go figure.
11/1 [Blue Moon last night]
There's one clock in the whole state of Texas that hasn't been adjusted back from daylight time: my alarm clock. I think I was up an hour earlier than necessary. Halloween costume: black felt cowboy hat [XXXX Beaver], horsehair hatband [from a Sag girlfriend], Western Cut Black Wrangler shirt [fake pearl snaps, $8.95 at the outlet mall], black Levi's [same ones I was wearing the day before], hand–tooled belt [from Big Bend Saddlery], handmade silver buckle [marked "Old Mexico"], Western yoke–cut black dress jacket [Cowtown Boots, made in USA], and antique Alligator boots [Blue Suede Boots]. As I was leaving Shady Acres, a Pisces girl whistled at me, almost running me over in her truck, "That's a hot look, cowboy." Made for an interesting Halloween party [astrologers get called upon to work at such things, all work, no play.] Early morning means I'm off to the radio station for the monthly astrology update.
10/31 [Halloween]
Lunch and reading at Threadgill's, a short lap around the trail, dinner and reading at Curra's What was weird, my Aquarius friend for the dinner date, we first met at Guero's when it was in the location now known as Curra's. And we'd planned to have dinner at Guero's, but somewhere got sidetracked and wound up at Curra's. Then, a little later in the evening, I got a message from my Cancer/Virgo poet, and she was sure she was going to run into me at Guero's last night. We drove right past. Or we were in the original location for Guero's, only it's now known as Curra's.... "I'm not usually wrong when I get these feelings, like I'm about to run into you...." She was almost right — just a little displaced in time.
10/30
El Paso mornings, Austin nights. I had so much fun running around El Paso, double Aries and all, I thought, at the end of the day when I was dropped off, it couldn't get any better. I sat down in the departure lounge and had an other–worldly expedience. First, there's a reference point — not long ago, I picked up a copy of The Big Liebowski on DVD — the movie's loose narrative is framed with a wizened old cowboy. Haven't seen the movie? Then this might not all make that much sense. However, Sam Elliot has this small character vignette in the film. While I was sitting in the lounge, tired, satiated [Cattleman's Steak House filet], this rail–thin cowboy struck up a conversation. He looked just like Sam Elliot — except he was wearing a straw cowboy hat instead of a felt one. I listened while he talked about the weather in El Paso, the price of alfalfa, and the irrigation pump that was vandalized. I folded the screen down on laptop, just to listen to him. We talked about old trucks, "Had an old Dodge, gave it away, Ford's the only one worth having." I allowed as how I was of the same thinking on that issue. As he shuffled off to catch his flight to San Antonio, I realized that I had just spent a few minutes with a real cowboy. Boots, boot–cut jeans, snaps on his yoke shirt, tanned and creased face, merry smile, pointy toes on his lizard skin boots. Pointy toes because he rides a horse from time to time. And whether you're a Chevy or Ford person, the difference is treated with religious tolerance, as it is regarded as a sensitive topic. I didn't catch his name, I barely know where he lives, but I ran into a real one. Don't think there are many of them left. "The Dude abides."
10/29
Sunday morning, it was back to one of my favorite places to eat in El Paso: El Paso Truck Terminal. I did a spot for the Channel 7 Weather Saturday night — after all, only astrologers and weather forecasters don't have to worry about repercussions from their forecasts. I got to see the whole replay Sunday morning. I predicted a white Christmas for El Paso, snow sometime in the last two weeks of December, and that there would be satisfactory resolution with the current events by next March, and wrapping up into May or June. If I could get the spot turned into a computer file, I would stream it from this site. Unfortunately, I didn't get it down. But it was kind of cool. El Paso's media seems to be kind to me. "The secret to making money is to stay unemployed." [Heard that yesterday]. I'll have to give it a try some time.
10/28
Saturday morning, one of the readers was swigging on a bottle of Ginger — looked like a green bottle of beer — "Off to good start," I suggested, "it's past noon in Austin already." Another reader was proudly displaying her new engagement ring, "Found it in a pawn shop," she said. I reminded her that she need to help support the new boat fund. Ask me, though, and I'll attribute the slow day to a Pisces Moon. But that could just be me. Slow day was made up for by hot fun at the slot machines in Ysleta, home of the Tiegua Indians. Seems like they have dispute wherein they supposedly signed an agreement that there wouldn't be any gambling, and then they opened a casino. From the local folks I asked about the "situation," I got the feeling that the irony of what was described, somehow, that all got lost. Looking through my receipts at the end of the night, someplace in there, I worked in some sushi, too. And a musical note, "Thriller, Monster Mash, and Ghostbusters," they always get dragged out at this time of the year.
10/27
Flow dynamics — I watched this at the airport again: two security gates. One has a long line. Not 50 meters away is a second gate, no line, no waiting. Of course, this presupposes that one is alert, awake, and uses obvious visual clues for directions and decisions. In my professional life, I've discovered that's not always the case [hey, applies to me, too.] And it also means I still get a pat–down — something about wearing cowboy boots. In other cases, I suppose it would be more than appropriate to put an all points look–out for Scorpio's right now, being their birthday time and all. It's like they all got thawed out. Had myself a fine and dandy late lunch with the Leo Grace the psychic lady at some reasonable Mexican food place in El Paso. I can pronounce it, but oddly enough, I can't spell it. I'm always amazed that the cost of living, by my standards, is so much less here than back home, a different part of the state.
10/26
Early to rise, early to the airport. From the mailbag:
> I learned this on Hollywood Squares yesterday..
> The question was, "If you took a Scorpion
> and froze it in a block of ice for
> a week, would it still be alive when
> you thawed it out?"
> The answer was, "Yes."
All I can say is that I've always suspected this. From what I was reading last night, I learned that the key to a good relationship, [female to female about a male] the best advice: "You can never go wrong underestimating men."
10/25
Fixing bugs and seeking inspisration. Busy morning for the phone, once I turned that ringer back on. Nice, long walk in a "winter desert day." Warm, arid, clear blue sky. Might have been the fact that the temperature only kissed 90, and it might have been the relative dryness, but I had thin coat of salt when I got home. Not really sweat, but the long hike in the sun felt good. Wandering through the trailer park, I run into strange things like neighbors. "I tell everyone I'm a Jewish Virgo," one of the Neighbor's buddies was telling me, "I don't clean, but I still feel guilty." Dinner was back at Magnolia, out on their patio, in the cool evening. I had a trio of charts, and, of course, that perpetual theme of Capricorn. Both the wait person, "My hair's not that red anymore," and one of the trio, who was defintely not a red–head, in a refreshing change of pace around here.
10/24
Just counting down the number of Sunday nights until I'm free at last. 11 more Sunday nights to work. I had a lazy, lyrical Tuesday afternoon doing not much of anything — lunch at Guero's, an afternoon shopping on South Congress, yet another red–headed Capricorn as an accomplice. Strange how that works — three in less than 24 hours. Moon was still in Cap at the time, too. I did wish I'd taken my digital image maker with me — tools aren't much good when they're stowed in the travel bag. There were a couple of trinkets that weren't worth buying but certainly worth getting a picture — rocketships and fish, mostly. Got a note last night from one of Sister's "employees," turns out that another set of horoscopes has gone by the wayside — sad to see them go. Well, maybe not. [I don't know — I don't usually read other scopes.] The economic downturn had the merchants on South Congress a little more chatty, perhaps a little more pleased to see traffic in their stores, and this weather? With the door and windows open? It's just delightful.
10/23 [first day of Scorpio]
I was setting up the Scorpio journal archives for the next month, and I got to wondering about how strange it is to number a journal by sun signs, i.e., Libra or Scorpio, especially when dealing with the web as a medium. Anyway, it was a Capricorn Moon yesterday. That means, Capricorn manager, Capricorn buddy. Red–headed Capricorn waitress. And another Capricorn host. In fact, I was late because I was talking to another red–headed Cap on the phone. Sort weird how that happens, all back in Austin, at the Magnolia. Of course, my Gemini friend was getting visibly perturbed with me — my advice? "Just do what he says," I said — indicating her boyfriend [me and him, we share the same birthday]. "Listen to Kramer, he knows what he's talking about," Mr. Sagittarius boyfriend chimed in. "I'm obviously not paying you enough," was her comment, "what? Did he slip you a hundred to say that?" Actually, no, it was Saturn in her chart — and that Sagittarius boyfriend is the closest thing she's got to an authority figure. Found out a secret last night: Hoover's, their killer biscuits? "Sweet potato biscuits." I had the Jamaican Jerk Pork Ribs, a crispy slab of blackened ribs, spicy hot. Then the ultimate joy, that same Gemini and Book People, my second favorite bookstore in the world. What was even cooler, on the marquee outside, "Corporate Bookstores Suck."

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