Astrology Home Buoy
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4/30
This pedestrian rage thing is about to get me killed. I was off to see a Libra about her chart for a quick reading, and I was crossing Congress Avenue, with the light. The little sign flashes "walk" and I started to cross the street, keeping a very wary eye on two females in a white Suburban Assault Vehicle, one of those monster off road trucks which might never see any thing more than a little pea gravel in the street. In my informal poll, those are the vehicles are voted most likely to mow down a pedestrian, "What was that bump?" "Don't they need to fix these streets?" And with that conversation rolling through my brain, I stepped off the curb, took about two steps, looked up and almost got flattened by a city bus. The light wasn't green. It wasn't yellow. It wasn't "pink." It was red, and had been for several seconds. I can threaten to damage a passenger vehicle, but you know, against a city bus, I'm pretty much outclassed.

The final chore for the day is to bang this dent out of the new hard drive — I figure just the right hit with a big hammer will cure the dent I put in the drive yesterday during my "in trailer" installation. There was the most beautiful Moon/Mars conjunction last night, coming out of the trailer, looking up as the moon was rising, and there, in all his angry red glory was Mars, right next to the moon.

4/29
I got some good news, I hope, the other day. It was on the Tuesday tail end of weird a week, and this only came through as an adjunct to everything else that was happening, but it looks like three more weekly newspapers have picked up my column. It never ceases to amaze me that I can be popular elsewhere, but in my own hometown, folks look at me and say, "huh?" Of course, this is endemic to Austin, a general lassitude that's just not found anywhere else. It's sweatin' weather already, and it's true, I wore a shirt for only about 15 minutes or so yesterday. Long enough to jump into a Thundercloud Sub shop and score some lunch treats — the cat's favorite. I needed a break from breaking my computer — I installed a new hard drive, and the installation, software and all the little wires all worked out just fine. Even better, I had a the correct jumper cable to drop the old hard drive into an external case. It's hard to be pack rat in a single wide trailer, but somehow I mange to hold onto all kinds of computer bits and pieces. Of course, I'm having a problem with the mounting bracket for the new drive, and I've just got the new drive wedged in on an old matchbook, but that works for now. The big hammer comes next, and I'll chisel away on the new hard drive. Best comment about the current situation elsewhere? "It's like doing an ex–girlfriend, all your allies and friends wonder why, and you know you need to pull out before you get in big trouble." [Bubba Sean news recap editorial, live from Lockhart]

4/28
"I said I'm running but I'll take my time, a friend of the Devil is a friend of mine" (Hunter, Garcia, Dawson © 1970, "Friend of the Devil" from American Beauty).

I got stuck on Devil references in American Music yesterday morning, in response to a question and answer period. Getting ready to hike for the afternoon, I had the "Devil Went Down to Georgia" refrains sifting through my skull, but the album is a little scratchy and I didn't get all of the lyrics to that one.

The Christian Singles Association or some such group sent me a letter and an application to join. Responses which I didn't enter, but certainly thought about were rather varied. But I sense that there's a good idea here. "What age group are you looking for?" (Imagine what could be done with that) "Religious preference?" (Satanic Cult? Buddhist? Practical Pagan?) "What are you looking for in the people you date?" (More bodies for my Army of the Night) The very tone of the letter and application was deeply offensive in a rather innocuous way. Too bad I couldn't find my red ink. I had to burn a little sage just to get the feeling out of the trailer. And to think, the previous evening I had stayed up until 4 in the morning finishing up the Rudy Anaya book wherein good triumphs over evil. I was correct when I figured out what would happen within the first 100 pages. It's how the author got there which made it such good reading — it even surprised me. Reading about Albuquerque has been very good, and I was fine with the upcoming trip until I realized I was going to have to put on long pants to accommodate the cool New Mexico weather.

I saw a sign in a store window yesaterday, "Student Loans here." I wonder how much they would loan me on the students I know?

4/26
It was over Sunday afternoon drinks, my friends drinking frozen margaritas with a "floater" of tequila on top, and I was recounting what I knew about the book I was reading, "I'm a hundred pages into it, and I can tell you already what's going to happen, and how come I never see anything in the New York Times Review of Books or the New Yorker Magazine about this author?" "Where's he from?" "New Mexico." "He's Southwestern — " Which is really too bad because the author's early work is often taught in schools as a shining example of Chicano (or some similar taxonomy) Literature. And while he does write about a particular region, the appeal of the work is certainly universal. I think this is the fourth book in this series, and it goes a little deeper into the mythology of the area, a little deeper into minds, and souls of the people who live their lives in this place. And the history, too. I figure, at best, it should be called "Magical Realism" because the works do involve that little element of dreams and symbols. At least, I think that's what they called it in college. But I have take issue with the idea of calling it Magical Realism because in parts of the world, the so–called "magic" isn't tenuous, it's very real, palpable, and a regular part of the landscape. I've seen it in the British Isles, I've felt it in Australia, and of course, it's rampant in my hometown. The book is called "Shaman Winter" and it's the fourth this series by Rudolfo Anya, the first three are Alburquerque (1992), Rio Grande Fall (1996), and Zia Summer (1997).

There always has to be room for a cynical note: "Magic, n. An art of of converting superstition into coin. There are other arts serving the same high purpose, but the discreet lexicographer does not name them." (Ambrose Bierce's The Devil's Dictionary)

Got the video clip from E! today, and to quote my neighbor: "That's not what I saw on TV! I thought I saw what I saw. Us. TV. Granny had his cowboy hat on."

4/25
I woke up to a cat vaulting through the trailer. Might have been the rain which seemed to start this morning, and the rain made it even harder to crawl out of bed. Turned out there was a dead lizard in the middle of a room, someone's been a-hunting. One of the best things about an alternative employment situation, a job that doesn't entail getting up and reporting to a cube farm, it means that most of my friends are similarly employed. There's a problem with this scenario, though, and by Saturday evening, at least two of my friends were completely beat from work. Their jobs may be at opposite ends of the spectrum, but it is a service industry, and it is an unusual weekend for me, too. It's the last weekend for the next month or so that I'm not on the road. I know I should have done something big but take out roast garlic, Calamari and Primavera Pizza was about the best we could manage. I was wondering, though, why there wasn't any ranch dressing with the Italian food.

One of my favorite cartoon characters is in a strip which is not carried by in the local paper. But due to the good graces of the San Jose Mercury News, I can get this strip on the web. And this particular character has a favorite snack food called "Squidos." I figured out what this dish is in real life: it's that left over Calamari, still delicious as ever.

I'm done for the time being with the web hacking stuff. I'm happy with the way it looks, and except for some juggling in the weekly scopes, I don't see any more changes for a while. Hopefully, I'll be too busy to bother with the details. It's spring time, and I'm looking forward to a Southwestern Pilgrimage. "Where the wheel stops, don't nobody know."

4/24
It was an old friend, as we were headed south on Congress Avenue yesterday morning, looming its ugly little beak above the southern extreme of the horizon, a migratory bird I haven't seen in a long time: the Construction Crane. We stopped by long enough to check in on the Cappy doing hair and dropped off a taco from Maria's Taco Express. If I ever get kicked out of Shady Acres, I know where I'm moving to next, the trailer park right behind Maria's Taco Express. Excellent tacos. I don't suppose it's wrong to render a residential relocation based solely on the proximity of a good dining establishment.

Troy showed up with the two girls from Dallas. In keeping with the new theme for the last 24 hours, or so, one of the girls was yet another Scorpio. "Sex, is that all you ever talk about? she asked. No, just with Scorpio's — it seems to be one of their favorite topics. Mars is in apparent retrograde motion, and as long as he's like that, there's an overweening sense in all the charts I'm seeing, a certain foreboding, maybe a certain quality, Mars seems to be a predominate source of motivation — or lack of it, or maybe it's a sense of frustration. "Mars is predominate." More pedestrian rage? Spurious Shakespeare quote for the day: "He hath not failed to pester us with message" (Hamlet, I.ii).

4/23
Pedestrian rage: it's back. After another trip downtown yesterday afternoon, I started figuring up a few things. Remember this is not scientific poll, but I seemed to notice that guys with a strange piece cloth knotted around their necks are the most likely candidates for failing to obey simple traffic laws. I've found that I can expectorate in a most satisfactory way when these folks decide that the Department of Public Safety's code for allowing pedestrian right of way can be ignored. This problem does affect all drivers. However, females, by my guess between the ages of 30 and 40, seemed most likely to yield, in abeyance of the same statutes. In fact, more often than not, the females would wave me across the street whereas the males would see how close they could get. I ain't been clipped yet, but when the little white light says. "Walk," I do believe that I have the right of way. It's a small matter, but I'm planning on doing some bodily damage to the folks who like to cut it a little close. Again, I'm trying to obey the rules of the road, but apparently I'm about the only one. What a way to celebrate Earth Day, park the car and do nothing but walk. That's what's so nice about a trailer close to downtown — it's usually eaiser to park and walk from here.

We kept the midnight fuel going, listening to music, eating take out fried cheese sticks, and waiting for my neighbor's sister to show up. Great. All that anticipation, she rolls in right after midnight, and I'm too tired to talk. But that was two Scorpio girls in two hours. And there were certain common characteristics in both charts, the Neptune and Sun thing. Coincidence? I was too exhausted for further astrological research.

And there was that one image which kept haunting me from Wednesday afternoon's sojourn: Tempe Train Tracks. As I was wandering along the railroad right of way, I kept thinking about a spring day in Arizona, and how much this was so much like that. There's something there, a poetic nuance, an image from a scrap of paper, "Now by thy looks, I guess thy message" (Henry VIII, V.i).

4/22
There's one of the these online journals with a rather evocative title called, "Where my day takes me," or something like that. I really should come up with a snappy title for mine, too, but I like its generic flavor right now. And now that the mobile set up is upgraded, I think I can add a little formatting to make this easier to read. Wednesday was one of those days that turned into a weird, wandering day because it took me a lot longer to knock out the work I usually do in the morning, and it was well after noon before I set out for the post office, then changed directions, and I was off towards Threadgill's, but I took a left turn at Congress Avenue and wound up at Magnolia. Cliff threw me out the back door after I was done eating. And from there, I was wandering through some of the streets of South Austin. According to the map, I covered about 6 miles in a straight line. This doesn't account for the diversions, side tracks, back tracks, and innumerable cul de sacs which I had to follow in order to get wherever it was that I was going. Might have been caused by reading the paper, but I'm not sure. I meandered down the train tracks that cut by the creek. I listened to roosters and watched some chickens peck at grass seed in the front yard of some residence. It's a mighty strange place with an almost magical quality to the day, a day spent wandering around with a cell phone in my pocket, but for all the world, looking like some kind of street person and it really didn't bother me. I felt like I was sliding around the backstreets of a small town at times. The gray clouds constantly threatened rain but never delivered. I figure I covered ten miles before I got home, and the closer I got to Shady Acres, the better I felt. It was a South Austin Walkabout. Never did get to the post office. There's always tomorrow.

4/21
I got a self-imposed rule about "no links" in my journal. But check it out. http://www.i-lisa-marie.com/ that's the story, and I don't know. However, in Elvis's chart, what with Mars in Retrograde, it could be true... I mean, this stuff just all fits together astrologically, if not logically, and it's better than concentrating on some of the other news in the paper right now.

Actual fact from an alleged expert: Austin's population of single women is 3 time greater than the population of single males. And the average age for these single women is 27.5. I just report the facts that have been delivered to me. I rather doubt the data myself. When I was hiking the lake yesterday, beneath a canopy of Live Oak and Pecan, I had a chance to watch the most curious bit of wildlife. I'm pretty much immune to squirrels, although, I seem to recall that they were getting pretty fat last December, which usually heralds a cold winter. This time, though, I saw the most remarkable sight, it was a squirrel who had scavenged a "corn on the cob" stick, and he had wrestled that thing up into a crook in the tree, happily munching on it. Bad news, too: there are Lawn Mower Races this weekend in Buda (pronounced "B-yew-Duh") and the annual Austin Fete, Eyore's Birthday, same time. Decisions, decisions. It's like trying to decide between Cajun Chocolate and Chipotle Peanut Butter (actual Amy's flavors).

4/20
There was an article in this morning's paper which a very perspicacious reader brought to my attention. There's a person out there who claims to be the real daughter of Elvis, and like, it's all been a conspiracy to cover up her true identity. Give me a day or two on this one, it might bare some fruit.

Traveling as much as I have in the past makes certain preparations rather common work for me. I don't worry much about which bag I'll grab, I've got briefcase for my computer if it's a formal deal, and a backpack if it's more of a show that I set up for. All depends on the crowd I'm working with. But a certain degree of mental and spiritual preparation is required, too. I found a copy of the latest book by Rudolfo Anya at the book store yesterday, and within the first couple of pages, I remember why I like so much of his work, especially his recent "Sonny Baca" series. So the same way as the Cormac So now that I'm getting geared up for a rollicking weekend on the Western slope of the Sandia Mountains, I figure a little background reading is in order. It's a little ironic that the mainstream literary circles seem to have missed this author. More so than other writers, I feel like he properly catches the idiom and timber of the Northern New Mexico landscape, in much the same way as Cormac McCarthy evokes the southern region of the state. New Mexico is different from any other place I've ever been.

4/19
Then one of my Capricorn friends swings by on her bicycle, "Dude, c'mon, let's go!" Sure, it's a nice day, almost perfect except for painful e-mail, and away I go. We started our morning meander by grabbing an early lunch at Threadgill's, more because it was close, and they do have rockin' vegetables. Even at the early hour, a few things happened, my Cap friend was nudging me, "check this one out, he's dressed just like you will be when you're his age: sport sandals, Hawaiian shirt and cowboy hat. Dude." Then I had a chance to shake hands with one of Bob Wills former drummers, a walking piece of musical history, "I played with them in the 40s," he said. The path then lead to Ruta Maya, and I finally got this girl to try an Espresso shake made with Amy's Ice Cream. Thick, creamy, served up in a pint sized glass, a truly amazing beverage that works wonders on mind, body and soul. We wandered almost aimlessly through some of the local attractions, and somehow, managed to find ourselves at an Amy's, after an arduous trip. Poor girl was beat by the time the sun was getting ready to set, but our attitudes are much improved. And I still have to go fishing this week.

One of my Virgo friends beeped me and I spent an hour talking on the phone while overseeing the scopes going up for the week. No matter how hard I try, no matter how many copy editors get to look at this stuff, invariably one or two typographical mistakes make it through and have to be corrected at the "Eleventh Hour" (literally).

I did get one e-mail that greatly disturbed me. I'm a compassionate guy. I listen, I read all the stuff that pours in, on an average of 100 messages a day, and I try to respond to every note. All I could think about last night as I drifted off to sleep was trying to properly evoke the feeling of that weird movie, "Trainspotting," and its opening and closing lines about "Choose life..." [and a vituperative rant]:

"Can the Ethiopian change his skin, or the leopard his spots?" (Jeremiah, 13:23, KJV)

I've been a "reader" as the primary source of my income for about seven years now. For several years, I worked for a variety of 900 phone lines, and the one type of question that I got which always broke my heart was, "When is my boyfriend going to leave his wife for me?" Place the astrology aside for a moment. Put the tarot cards away. Fold up the psychic TV. Why would this boyfriend want to leave his wife? It's cheaper to keep her. And if he did leave his wife, do you really want a mate with a predisposition towards infidelity? Let's say he does leave his wife, and marries you. What's going to keep him from leaving you for his next girlfriend? It's a behavior pattern that is, often as not, going to be repeated. To exacerbate this type of situation, I've had a chance to hear this story from all three sides, the outside lover, the unfaithful spouse, and the spurned mate. Ain't none of it pretty. If some one is previously engaged, I don't care how strong the attraction is, don't go there. And lest you think I'm speaking from a "holier than thou" position — I know. I've been there. Unless it's an agreed upon variation, then cheating is cheating. See Jeremiah's take on that.

4/18
I had a chance to reflect on the two versions of yesterday's article: the story on the web has the reporter's experience writing under pseudonym as the main attraction, and a link to his story about the online diaries as a sidebar. However, in the paper, the online diaries were the focal point, and his pseudonym was underneath the story. I wonder which version gets more "air" time? I had dinner with friends last night, large steak, barely seared, and it was very good. I always wondered what former professor types wind up doing on Saturday nights, and now I know. We were reading poetry. The Capricorn drug out an old volume of e.e.cumming's poetry, and she found a poem from 1925 (opening line was, I think, "she being brand" and it was a racy poem about a new car). And I also realized that I missed something yesterday, about the people I ran into while listening to music. There was a retired couple from California who came to Austin to hear music, and then, afterwards, there were these four guys, all from Sweden or Finland or some such place, all in town for the expressed purpose of listening to live music — live Country music. It was the first time I had ever seen Floyd (Mr. Piano) wearing a cowboy hat.

4/17
The newspaper hit the stands before I had a chance to read the article, and there were already a half dozen notes in my mailbox before I saw it myself. My favorite comment was "Now that you're famous, fix the Leo horoscopes so we can have a better month." I can fix the horoscopes, but to be fair, I try to report on what the planets are doing to a particular sign, not the other way around. I watched a fuzzy caterpillar try to inch his way across the hot sidewalk on a portion of the hike and bike trail this afternoon. He was in a great hurry. After seeing the article, and the quotes pulled from my journal, I felt a lot like that bug — just hoping I don't get squished. Or used for bait. I did a figure 8 loop on the trail, and I stopped through downtown long enough to score some coffee beans at Ruta Maya, and while I was there, I ran into a friend who was out riding his scooter today. Days like today with a crisp yet warm feeling in the air make me want to rush out and acquire another motorcycle. It's not a good idea, and some one please tell my Ma Wetzel that I won't be buying another bike anytime too soon. Then there was the guy at the humidor at Ruta Maya, "Hey, I know you, I saw you in the paper today.You're diarist." Another 15 seconds of fame.

There were two rather remarkable events yesterday, perhaps perfect for the New Moon. Or maybe completely unrelated. One was a road trip to Lockhart for BBQ at Kruez (pronounced "Krites"). It was a big deal to go spinning down there with a Virgo in her big red wagon -- quite the BBQ place. See, there's a long time rivalry between two places, Kruez and Black's. My personal preference is still with Black's, but I'll wager I get a lot heat from some corners in favor of the other. It reminds me of a sign I once saw in a BBQ place, "Three things are debated in Texas: Politics, sex and BBQ. Of the three, BBQ is the most hotly debated." True words. I did pass out after arriving home. Almost, but not quite, too much meat. My neighbor later informed me that he laid in a stash of the pork chops, and I must admit those were some mighty fine pig parts, done up right. I think further research is needed. The marquis at Threadgill's advertised Marcia Ball singing with Floyd Domino playing piano. I just had to go, and another Pisces neighbor grabbed me and we headed up there, after my nap. It was an amazing experience. After the show, while my companion was talking to Marcia Ball, I got a word in edgewise and asked her birthday. Pisces. There's a new annotation in the Pisces Sun Sign stuff now, and it's one reason I like the immediacy of the web and electronic distribution because I update this material as I get a chance.

4/16
What an interesting afternoon yesterday turned into. It started out so nice, a cool front blew through town, but all the frigid stuff was dumped some place north of the Red River so the air was just cool, well, cold by my standards, but not so cold as to require long pants. I was heading out of the park to get a bite and drop my tax return in the mail when a neighbor asked where I was going. "Lunch?" She gave me a ride to the post office and then on to Magnolia. Gingerbread pancakes -- made by a Capricorn, served by a Capricorn, and I reckon that's setting a tone for the day. I realize I shouldn't be eating breakfast at 2:00 in the afternoon, but the cool weather makes it hard to get out of bed. And it turned out to be a solely Capricorn day, because I got a ride back from Magnolia with a Capricorn, and I sat around in my neighbor's trailer with another Capricorn and his wife, and then, at 11:00 PM, the phone rings and it's a Capricorn friend, and she's having a gut–wrenching experience in getting her taxes filed electronically, "I have to buy a new computer, I want one of those iMacs." All I can safely say is that she was much happier by the time she left. It just goes to show that this astrology stuff all happens in waves. Of course, I have a secret stash of Girl Scout Cookies sent by Ma Wetzel and the cookies seemed to work wonders on my Capricorn friend. Chocolate cures IRS blues.

4/15
I finally got back the roll of film from the picture shoot on Monday, and there was tiny problem with it all. I had a toothpick in my mouth, but on film, the effect of the toothpick is lost. I was also supposed to have a belated lunch with another guy from the paper, but he begged off at the last moment which didn't bother me too much because I hadn't had a chance to work out in the last few day, and it gave me just enough free time to scoot around the the lake and catch some rays. Then I boogied downtown to attend some business matters. Of course, no trip into the down town district is complete unless I stop by Ruta Maya, and no hot spring day is complete unless I have a Ruta Maya/Amy's Ice Cream shake. And I suppose, no time is complete in downtown Austin unless you get to help out a tourist, "Where's ya'll from?" "Yorkshire." One of the lads ordered up a Guinness, and one of the other girls noted that the English just have to have something from home to make them feel better. The brief discussion included talk about tea, and how these folks actually carry some Earl Grey from home in order to be happy. Now that's something I can understand. I might get around to putting up one or two of the pictures, but I sure hope that the photographer's roll of film has some better shots on it. Most of this roll was pictures of me with bare feet, a Hawaiian shirt, a cowboy hat, and some sort of silly grin. Except for one or two shots by the Elvis pictures, and those were weird, "Those look way dark, dude," opined one Leo. This morning, I don't have many questions except to wonder whose hair tie this on the coffee table. It's a white one, not the kind of hair tie I use, and I don't remember which girl traipsing through the trailer in the last 24 hours left it behind. Virgo, Leo, Capricorn or Pisces? It's Mars and around midnight last night, I was watching him as he crawled across the sky (in an apparent backwards fashion relative to the other planets).

4/14
While I was waiting on a Virgo dinner date to show up again last night, I spent some time surfing around to various journal entries on other web sites, after thinking about what the newspaper guy had said. I figure I had about lamest interview, and I also figure he missed some of my funniest stuff. Italian write up – 9.7.98, postcard from Australia – 10.19.98, or the all time winner for most mail, the dress size story – 12.14.98. My tax form came in from the accountant yesterday, and he had the most hopeful news although he didn't have good tax news, "You know Kramer, you're going to be an accidental billionaire one day." Great, I suppose, but how do I come up with the money the Feds want by Thursday? Make out a check and pray? Try to explain that I'm attempting some deficit financing, that I want to restructure my debt? This thought process was brought on by the other entries that I read. Seems like I'm in a league with a lot of students, or people in school, and that just about everyone has a "real" job. A day job. Something. I feel like I'm missing something here, I'm not pulling my weight, I don't put on a suit and march off to a downtown job. I mean, I was downtown yesterday, but I was just trying to pick up some pictures I was having developed, and then swing past the copy shop to get laughed at while I was getting the pictures scanned for the web. What I did notice from surfing the other journal sites is folks spend a lot of time working up new and interesting ways to present the information. I just type and post. That's not a big deal right now, but when I'm logging in from some far flung destination — I have a choice, I can either stay current on my updates, or I can have fancy design. At this point, though, I'm wondering if Virgo's give the best neck rubs. Felt that way last night.

4/13
Yesterday afternoon, I finally filled out a frequent flyer card for Amy's Ice Cream. I think that rates as a major milestone in one's life, getting all the little "one dish of ice cream" blanks stamped, signed or marked. I had just gotten done with some lunch with Bubba Sean, and I did a quick reading, and as fate would have it, the bookstore was just past the bank, so as long as I was depositing a check, I just shot right on over to the bookstore to find some new reading material. Maybe this is why I don't get ahead in life, no sooner does the money hit the bank than I'm spending it on more reading material. As many of the pictures will show, I don't usually expend a great deal of effort on clothing. I thought I was very good, I didn't spend any more than I made. Although, I must admit, there's a new version of a classic available in fresh translation, and I had a hard time resisting the urge for more books that make me look erudite. It's also time to line up some good summer reading material -- every one needs the literary equivalent of junk food. I couldn't find any; however, I did encounter the soon to be famous Sagittarius Poet and we swapped stories while she was on break. But I think the real find of the day is Amy's new flavor up on the board. It's pretty much a forgone conclusion that a white boy like myself sticks pretty much to white boy food -- means I much prefer Vanilla over Chocolate. But I did have to have a sample of this new flavor, a "hot and spicy" chocolate. I didn't have any more than a taste test, but that stuff was incredibly good, ("oh right, like anything at Amy's isn't good?") "Cajun Chocolate" is the name, and I'm pretty sure it's nothing more than a Belgian Chocolate with a dab of cayenne in it. I will admit it's just spicy enough to convert me to the strong stuff. Still doesn't satisfy my need for some good summer reading list yet -- that's a quandary.

4/12
There are certain aromatic flavors that one would associate with spring time, there's lilac and lavender, the sweet and sticky honeysuckle blooming just down the road from the trailer, and one smell that snaked its way into my nostrils Sunday morning, BBQ. Nothing so announces the spring time than BBQ. And from BBQ in the air — some one in the park was cooking up some nice cow parts by the aroma of it — to the evening's entertainment: Rent, the Musical. Now, from the musical review which I should write, I've got to jump to another topic, the photographer. But if you get a chance, and if a client is nice enough to invite you to see Rent, it's a must see. I did run into a friend, just in passing, at the show's intermission, a Virgo. This is getting to be a broken record.

So the guy from the Statesman shows up this morning. I'm beginning to think my luck is about to change. I get a Sagittarius photographer — one who likes Black Velvet Artwork. One who likes the idea of Lawn Mower Racing. "You were there? You now, I shot that story we did a year ago about it, too..." I'll have some pictures pretty soon. Cowboy hat. Hawaiian shirt. Bare feet. Fishing poles. Elvis. Is this great, or what? I feel sorry for my clients this afternoon, I'll be insufferable with an intolerable good mood.

4/11
I was sitting in Threadgill's, doing a reading and dining on some of the fresh asparagus, and gratefully, I was doing a reading for a friend's daughter so my client was rather understanding. Just the cutest little woman wearing a halter top and shorts walks up to the table, and asks, "Excuse me, are you Kramer?" She's got a lipstick red phone glued to her ear, and she's smiling at me. "Yes?" "Here," she hands me the phone. "Kramer, this is my friend, what are you doing tonight?" I take one gander, shorts, halter top, "I'm suddenly very free this evening." "She has a Pisces rising but don't be fooled...." Handing the phone back, I just had to ask, "What sign are you?" "Virgo."

We did have a fine afternoon at Guero's, on the patio overlooking S. Congress. Imagine kicking around names for a Lawn Mower Racing Team, discussing the finer points of the selection of equipment while watching not one, not two, but three delightful Virgo girls knock back Margaritas. But the Virgo string isn't broken yet, though, referring back to my previous comments about missing one Virgo on Thursday night, the game of cell phone tag in various establishments with music too loud to hear the phone ring continued. Instead, Bubba and I wound up discussing the proper placement of certain artifacts of my life and trying various arrangements to make the trailer more hospitable to the press. I really needed that fine Virgo hand in art direction. I fear that Bubba and I just didn't do it justice. To be fair, the official FGS Crest is his idea, "Dude, see, it would make a great tattoo, a cow skull over two crossed fishing poles, what do you think?"

4/10
There is such a thing, on a Friday afternoon, as the finest "al fresco" dining experience ever. Imagine an All–American Hamburger, covered up in peppers, drenched with fake cheese product and fairly dripping in cheap yellow mustard. Add some French Fries with a generous dose of questionable chili and more yellow cheese looking goo, and there you have it. It was dining experiencewithout equal. Lunch with my neighbor at Sonic. Parked where we can listen to the cars stalled on Riverside in the late afternoon heat, choking ourselves on grease and exhaust fumes.

Raising the Bar: it all started when a Virgo friend asked me what I wanted from Hawaii, "I'll be there on vacation soon, my chart does look good for travel?" "Sure it looks good for travel as long as you bring me some Kona Coffee Beans." Day to day, I drink local blends, but when someone is going to go all out, my preferred bean is real Kona. For a stretch, last winter, I kept getting girlfriends who furnished me with various Kona blends including one Red Headed girl who brought me Texas Traditions Kona. Real stuff, real good. And the coffee was good, too. So there's this one blond haired Gemini, and she calls me with a chart question, and asks what she can do, she's in Maui right now. On her last vacation, she FEDEXed a pound of coffee and a topless postcard. So I got coffee and visual candy, too. What's it going to be this time? Real beach bunnies and how do you fit that in a UPS package?

4/9
I'm pretty sure yesterday's existential teenage angst is gone. I have nothing to fear from another reporter. Nothing. Nope, not me. I was press at one time. The interview went just fine. Of course, I was quoted out of context in El Paso, just this last January, but I can surmise that I must be making atonements for having once practiced journalism myself. Since there wasn't a TV camera, I didn't have to worry about that little red light. Last time, they caught me while I was animatedly discussing astrology with the camera guy. Camera wasn't on his shoulder, no problem with that, right? I've got to remember to watch for the little red light. Besides, I think I've got other problems now. Bats. Of course, Austin is famous for its bats. Mexican Free Tail Bats, little flying mammals. Like rats with wings. Basically, hairless rats with wings and radar. From what I've read, the bats can consume as much as several tons of bugs in a night of feeding, so this is a good thing. But there does seem to be a little problem. I mean, there was this nice Virgo once, and when I moved into this trailer, she gave me a special gift, a bust of Elvis. I was aiming on putting it over the toilet in the bathroom, but it just never made it there. I did paint the bust -- spray painted it silver so it would match the rest of the bathroom's decor. It would blend with the rest of the bathroom's scheme, my Elvis towel set, my two Elvis clocks, the Elvis plate and the Elvis calendar, postcards from Graceland, the Elvis driver's license and so forth. But I've now got a spin off colony of bats living in the bust of the King. He's sitting high on a wire shelf on the patio, and it's easy to get inside, and his cavernous skull makes a fine home for the bats. They eat bugs, good. They generate guano, both good and bad -- the King sits right over my mint garden. They scare people, wait, this might be a usable commodity. Or, I could just slip a board under the Elvis bat cave when the little critters are out for a night of feasting, and that would solve all my problems.

4/8
In the cool pre-dawn twilight, early enough to see the bats returning to their home downriver, I wondered what I was doing awake. Even the cat wondered what I was doing up so early. I did go back to sleep, after figuring out that I didn't need to do anything which required turning on the lights. I've been working with my neighbor, hassling about the Lawn Mower Racing effort, too. It looks like we've already pulled together a complete team, we're just missing one essential ingredient: pit bunnies." Applications are being accepted," as Jeff said. Looks like we've lined up some sponsors, too. I was busy knocking together a web page about the "unnamed Lawn Mower Racing Team" when I feel asleep last night.

I was supposed to have a dinner date with a Virgo this evening. When I got in from long afternoon in the sun, though, there were several messages waiting. One was from the Virgo, had to cancel. It's okay, I'm used to be stood up by pretty women. Then there was a message from some guy at the local paper:

>Would you be interested in chatting with me about what you do, why you do
>it and what kind of response you get from your readers?
>
>Look forward to hearing from you.
>
>(my birthday, incidentally, was April 5.)

I've suffered at the hands of the local press before, a long time ago in Dallas, then again here, locally. According to them, I'm a redneck. Just because I live in a trailer park, and just because I have fishing poles and a dead cow skull on my patio, and just because I take a serious dislike to any kind of a tie besides a bolo tie, does that make a me a redneck? It's warmed up nice in Texas, and anything besides a pair of shorts is probably too much attire. Is that so wrong? And does hoping that the Virgo just might want to reschedule, does that indicate that I have too much hope? Is there such a thing as too much faith in a Virgo?

4/7
I'm still looking for someone who has a video clip of me and my neighbor at the Lawn Mower Drag Races from Monday. To the best of my knowledge, it aired a few minutes before "King of the Hill" Tuesday evening, I guess around 6:30 or 7. If I can get a Quick Time clip, I'll certainly post it. "Boy, you just in Hillbilly Heaven, ain't you?" Yeppers, don't get no better'n'this.

Oh but it does get better. The unamed lawn mower racing team now has a New York - based ad agency for media relations. I guess that's different from the TV reporter I kept trying to get a date with -- different kind of relations.

4/6
From Lawn Mower Racing back to reading charts — it's a quick shift, but upon arriving home, the voice mail started to beep, and then there was nothing to do but strap on the headset and go to work. Monday is usually, at it's finest, a busy day. The scopes go up on Sunday night, and that's Sunday night where ever I am, and then the questions pour in, and the E-mail stacks up, and I look rather busy. There has been a coherent theme to the last few days, though. One word: Virgo. Am I ever glad that's one of my favorite signs.

This just in, while I was composing (some would suggest composting) some Haiku for Lawn Mower Racing, my neighbor bolts out of his precariously balanced trailer, hollering at me, "Kramer!" "Huh?" "We're on 'E!'" "Huh?" "Yeah, they did a spot about the lawn mower races yesterday, and they got a shot of me then a quick shot of you -- you didn't have a shirt on. National Cable TV. We're famous!" Now, if I can just make it into People Magazine, I'll be happy. Or maybe Springer.

4/5
Lawnmower racing. Wow. Free BBQ for a special "King of the Hill" promotion. Then, along with huge slabs of seared animal parts (good brisket and pork ribs), free Cola and Lawn Mower Racing. The track was slick, but the early morning clouds burned off into a picture perfect day. There was one guy on a fantastic purple Modified Mower, Extra Pro Mods with wheely bars, and even an assortment of stock machines. Where else can you take a perfectly useful piece of equipment, remove its only useful part, and then call racing it a sport? Seeing guys with leathers, flame suits, helmets and so forth, smelling the two stroke oil, listening to the stutter of the highly modified motors, the aroma of bean oil in the air, the staging lights as these machine prepare to sprint 150 feet, it all brings back memories. I remember being in the pits before. It's a flash back, sure, but at least it's a good one. Besides, I think I've found a new motor sport that certainly needs some further research -- this is a builder's sport. I can just see myself on one of these fire breathing monster lawn mowers .... and just when I thought I was going to forget the rent car girl and the non traditional Easter dinner (Thai food, hot, spicy, very tasty, very good).

4/4
Yesterday was a rather incredible day — breakfast at Maudie's Too, then a stop by Asylum Bookstore long enough to peer through the poetry section (and classics, sometime they have most excellent deals on used classics), and I got torn when I had to make a decision, it was either Ezra Pound's "Selected Cantos" or, better yet, and pursuant to yesterday's discussion with one of my lawyers, T.S. Eliot's "Four Quartets." Eliot won, but that's because it was a used book at a used price, $2.50 (although, the cover price was $1.95). I'm pretty sure some quotes from that text will be landing in upcoming scopes, powerful stuff. Then, at a party last night, I was introduced to Amy. Amy is a Virgo, and I was chatting amiably with her until I found out she was the Amy. And in keeping with what seems to be a growing Austin tradition, she's a female Virgo who is rather successful. I had to keep from falling all over myself when talking to Amy — Amy of Amy's Ice Cream. The real person. Anyway, Magnolia Cafe is part owned by a Virgo, and New Age (now Whole Life) Books is partnered by a Virgo, so I'm sensing a trend here. Besides, I was in total adulation mode around Amy. I've been singing a sweet song about her ice cream for years. Finally, I get to meet the person behind it all. Amazing. Better yet, she seemed like a normal person. "Come on by and I'll buy you an ice cream," she said to me.

4/3
When it comes to lawyers, I've got to be rather lucky. I was closing up the trailer last night, thinking about it all. We had been haggling a detail or two about contracts and stuff, then the conversation switched, and I was referring to a copy of T.S. Eliot's "The Waste Land and other poems" as well as an antique edition of Norton's Anthology of English Literature -- my legal advisor was searching for a quote. There was a little bit of water sifting down from the sky, more than fog or a drizzle, but less than rain, and I had kicked open the patio door, and there was a steady drip drip from the tarp stretched across the patio, an awning that's really more permanent than it looks, and we had a pleasant digression down the avenues of the modern movement in literature. Some very vintage Pink Floyd was on the boombox, music I had acquired while with a friend who was younger than the original date the recording. Fit all this in a trailer in S. Austin.

4/2
I was going to finish writing my slim book of poetry yesterday, but I spent the afternoon finishing up my "summer" reading list instead. This over cast weather seems to work for some of my friends, but I miss sunlight. I'm beginning to fade, unlike my hair, which is not fading. I think I'm going for a purple streak next. After reading so much Victorian Era stuff, though, I'm really tempted to undertake some redecorating around the trailer. I feel a need for doilies. Lots of them. Going to be a busy afternoon, first it was a lunch then it was seeing Bubba for a minute which -- as always -- turned into an ordeal, we were discussing various religious systems at a Chinese Restaurant, "Which one sacrifices virgins?" I asked. "The frats, over on campus," was his reply. Then dinner with my lawyer, as she made an illegal turn, she commented on me not being worried, "Of course not," I replied, "I'm with my lawyer." Do I have too much faith in the legal system?

4/1
Lilacs and lavender, honeysuckle and rose, sweet vines of summer times... and, how could I forget, belching diesel, too? "April Fool, n. The March fool with another month added to his folly." (The Devil's Dictionary by Ambrose Bierce) It may be April's Fool's Day but I don't have any funny observations. I was really feeling rather poetic, and I've been enjoying a book by Connie Willis called To Say Nothing of the Dog. It's perfect low brow, high brow reading for the very end of the tumultuous Mercury period that is about to come to a grinding halt. It's a classic time travel bit, with enough classical allusions to make any scholar content. Which does bring up another problem -- the author, Connie Willis, refers to Jerome K. Jerome's Three Men in a Boat (to say nothing of the dog) as source material for her novel. I did a quick Net search, and before I could click "cancel" I had downloaded the text for the source novel. But wouldn't it be more fun to go to a bookstore, hassle the cute clerk, acquire a copy of the actual book? Just reading the text on the screen, where's the fun in that?

© Kramer Wetzel, 1999

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