Fishing Guide to the Stars
by Kramer Wetzel
For the Week of: 3/6-12/2003
“This is the very coinage of your brain.”
Shakespeare’s Hamlet [III.iv.139]
SXSW rolls through Austin, starting this weekend. About the same time, Uranus slides in Pisces, heralding some much-trumpeted changes.
Pisces: I switched my address to the downtown post office because it was far more convenient, and it costs a lot less. Problem is, that its parking lot is right in the middle of an alternative “entertainment district” and as such, it gets a lot of traffic on the weekends. Between heightened security, and the chance to capitalize on extra parking spaces, there’s now a parking lot attendant most evenings and weekends. I wheeled into the parking lot late one Saturday night, after a night of revelry in Austin, intent on checking the P.O. Box. [Kramer Wetzel, astrofish.net, P.O. Box 684516, Austin, TX 78768-4516.] It’s my address. I rented it for year. It’s just up from the Lamar St. pedestrian bridge, just a short hop on the trail from Shady Acres. Very cool. But that parking lot attendant tried to get me to pay five bucks just to park there. “But I’m only checking my mail,” I swore up and down. It’s not like I was going to get out of the truck and just leave it there. The guy wanted some kind of a deposit. Best I could offer was my date for the evening. She didn’t take too kindly to that. Don’t mix business and pleasure. And remember, some folks just don’t have the same good sense of humor that you have these days.
Aries: I’ve got this one fishing buddy, and he can’t leave some things alone. It’s not like there was a problem before, but I have to wonder if he sometimes invents trouble where there wasn’t any trouble previously. To compound this situation, to take a bad deal and make it worse, he has a way of worrying the problem, even if it’s a little problem, he can take it and by the time he’s done talking through it, analyzing, analyzing the analysis, and asking everyone for expert advice [none of which this Aries guy takes], he’s created a monster out of relatively insignificant problem. Mars. Mars and the relative position of the Sun. Those are the two we’re dealing with here, in Aries Land. Those two are causing minor irritations over the next couple of days. The deal is, you can just about talk this stuff to death, or talk it into the ground, or talk until no one is listening. That’s a problem. My solution? Go fishing. Or, at the very least, step back and try to look at the problem, the minor troubles, in light of a bigger picture. Any kind of perspective helps.
Taurus: It wasn’t exactly by choice, but I found myself in the sporting goods store the other day. The woman I was running around with that afternoon needed to buy, and I’m not making this up, shin guards, kneepads, elbow pads, and a new helmet for her roller derby debut. While she shopped for armor, I looked at, naturally, fishing gear. I scooped up a couple of these lures that really caught my eye. Bright colors, not something that I would normally fish with, neon feathers and stuff. Completely different than equipment I usually use. Radically different, but yet, oddly enough, visually very appealing–at the time. That’s the kicker, it was visually appealing, at that time. The combination of neon green, orange, and purple looked good–to me. Given my widely documented sartorial tastes, these color combinations should come as no surprise. When I tried these lures a few days later, they were spectacularly unsuccessful. I mean, they were so bad, even my fishing buddy was laughing at me, “Hey, toss it over there, see that big one, right there? That lure’ll scare him over towards mine.” Then he laughed. You’re normally good Taurus taste just ain’t what it’s supposed to be. Go easy with stuff. Maybe this isn’t a time to make a selection based on your tastes. I did, eventually turn one of those lures into an earring, so there was happy ending to some of it. Another one, thought, is now at the bottom of the lake.
Gemini: Every Gemini I’ve dealt with has a small amount of Taurus in them, in some capacity, in their Gemini chart. Look at what it says about buying stuff up in Taurus. Think about it. While things are actually quite different over here in Gemini, there’s still a little problem with tastes and sensibility at this point. The Moon, too, she’s exerting an undue influence over some your more rational abilities. In other words, you might not be thinking quite right. Certain astrological elements might cloud some of your normally good Gemini judgment. Instead of jumping on a particular [looks like a work thing to me, but I could be wrong] situation with your normal fervor and zeal, hold off for just a second or two. In Gemini terms, you need more information before you can render a correct decision. Never hurts to go easy on some of this stuff. You’re going to be face to face with a situation, like me, where I agreed to a weekend fishing trip before I looked at my schedule. I had other clients I was previously engaged with. As much as the trip sounded good, I had to stick to what was important, that work thing. Keep your Gemini priorities straightened out.
Cancer: Let’s look at Mars, where he is, and computers. See: the computer I use has a delightful graphic user interface. Little pictures, icons, a virtual “desktop” with its picture of trash can, documents that look like they’re pieces of paper, you know, it’s all standard stuff these days. I’ve been working on one of these for so long, I’m rather used to it. In the computer, though, that underlying structure, the stuff that makes it all tick? That boils down to nothing more than either a “one” [1] or “zero” [0]. It’s all becomes binary. “On” or “Off.” “Yes” or “No.” All that fancy stuff in the computer, all that cool stuff in the Cancer world, with Mars starting to oppose you, it all becomes a binary situation. It’s either on or it’s off. No middle ground. As Mr. Mars heats his way through Capricorn, opposite you, remember this one word: binary. There’s a time and place for my extended fishing stories with extenuating circumstances. There’s a place for a Cancer to weave tale wherein the facts become obscured. All this belongs in your world at one time or another, but for the next few days, think: binary. Yes or no. Not a lot of middle ground. And no fishing tales, either, about how the really big one shook the hook.
No tall tales here: get the weekly scope delivered in your e-mail here or get a preview of Saturn into your sign here.
Leo: On an album by a group called “Los Super Seven,” one of the liner notes thanks a local restaurant, “Las Manitas.” It’s a legendary place. Scummy politicos, struggling artists, even some tourists, they all enjoy the atmosphere. It’s a cool little, typical, Austin dive on Congress Avenue, just a few blocks south of the Capitol Building. A couple of years ago, they added a back patio for the overflow traffic. I seriously doubt that they were trying to capitalize on the “al fresco” trend at the time. See: to get to the patio, you have to walk right through the kitchen. As the name would imply, Avenue Café [Las Manitas], serves basic Mexican fare. Good stuff, too, judging by the consistent crowds. Think about that, though, that’s pretty daring to let the public walk through the kitchen in order to get to the patio. Means the kitchen has to be clean. Since the building itself is probably over a 100 years old, the kitchen is even more challenging to keep clean. They do a great job, though, the unused utensils are artful arranged on hooks, the walls are faded, but clean. All the work surfaces are sanitary. The deal is this: between a couple of elements pushing and pulling on your Leo self, the key idea is not what you’ve got, but how you present it. Like that spotless kitchen redolent in the fragrant aroma of Mexican cooking, the subtle efforts are readily apparent. Make sure your works space, the place where you make your Leo magic happen, make sure that space, your table top, desk top, or in my case, the boat, make sure it’s clean and in good repair. It doesn’t have to be new to be the best, just in good shape.
Virgo: I was at the airport the other day. Heightened security and all, I’d gotten there a little early, just to make it easy on myself. For some reason, I seem to be a suspicious person. There were four little old ladies, checking in for a flight to Las Vegas. I thought that was pretty cute, in and of itself. These grey-headed matrons were all loaded up in wheelchairs, at the baggage check station, having a grand time. The baggage handler, porter, valet, whatever the customer service rep was called, he was busy trying to figure out how to manage four wheelchairs, all at once. He had a little beleaguered look, a little drawn. He wasn’t too sure what do. The ladies themselves, they were chattering along, pretty happy to be going someplace, I guess. More power to them. He finally figured out a way to get the all herded up and corralled together. Each lady grabbed the chair next to here, forming a chain of four wheelchairs, then that poor guy started pushing the first one, the other three in tow. Last I saw of them, headed towards the departure lounge, the last one in the group giggled, then said, “Wagons Ho!” Between Mars and the Sun in their positions, you can either be the guy pushing the first wheelchair–or you can be that last one in the line, “Wagons Ho!”
Libra: I seem to spend a fair amount of time walking on the Hike and Bike trail. It’s my exercise, my chance to be still and enjoy nature, a respite from the day’s hectic activities, and, for me, a kind of meditation. I’ve also been told that it’s a mild form of cardiovascular exercise. I wouldn’t know a thing about that. In my walks, I’ve grown accustom to being a nodding acquaintance of several homeless people. One of them had the neatest trick for saving himself a choice bench for napping on. He has a “wet paint” sign that he puts on his favorite bench. Now, an observant person would realize that this is a clever ruse, because the Parks Department isn’t anywhere around, and this is the only bench with a perennial “wet paint” signage–especially considering that the sign looks a lot like “will work for food” lettering. You see the setup here? You find that bench with the wet paint sign, and you think to yourself, “Libra dear, this is just a trick, I can sit here….” Given where the planets are, relative to your sign, I’d suggest you test the paint, first. The one time it’s not a ruse, that’s the time you decide to sit without testing first. Don’t trust what the signs say, or don’t trust what the pattern has been. Test the hypothesis first. Make sure that the sign is just a clever gimmick. You can never tell when it might be real wet paint.
Scorpio: I used to fly a lot, especially on some older airplanes that had an “emergency exit row.” Which was the place I liked to sit. First off, if I put my boots–or sandals–up on the seat opposite me, even if it was crowded flight, chances were no one would sit there. Then again, facing a person makes it easier for light conversation. “You’re an astrologer? Cool, then you know we’re safe on this flight, right?” Right. The standard line, from the flight attendants was “You know you’re seated in an emergency row, and you agree to perform the duties of opening the door, if so instructed…” [or something like that.] So on this one flight, a gorgeous [I hate stereotypes, but she was blond and you can figure the rest] female sits down next to me. The flight attendant starts her little safety line, and the girl next to me gets up, “I’ve got move, opening that door, why, I might break a nail.” She moved so fast I never got a chance to point out that I was raised Southern [Ma Wetzel], and I would’ve opened the door for her. I’d also like to point out that if the emergency exit situation ever arouse, breaking nail might be the least of the worries. Scorpio dear, you’ve got to watch out what you say. I’m not suggesting that you’re acting like dizzy female, but you know, some of the things you’re saying these days, if you’re not careful, can come across that way. Like breaking nail on the emergency exit.
Sagittarius: Mars and Red Tail Hawks. It’s pretty common, even in downtown Austin, to see Red Tail Hawks. Poor guys, they often get called “chicken hawks,” which is a misnomer because these guys much prefer field mice and other rodents as a food rather than chickens. Brings a whole new meaning to “tastes just like chicken,” doesn’t it? On a warm and sunny spring day in Austin, while it’s still a little cool out, it’s possible to see some of these hawks, out, drifting around on the air currents, hunting for a meal and a thermal. Big, blacktop parking lots, especially ones that have been recently resurfaced, and vacant, those make good targets because the warm spring sun heats up the parking lot thus creating a generous little up current. I was observing one of these guys, swooping low, just gliding along, searching for one of those thermals. Perfect example of what our Sagittarius selves should be doing about now. Maybe too lazy to flap our wings, cruising low, seeking that generous uplift. Look for the rise up, but try gliding along for a change. Don’t force the issue–you might be flying low, but it’s supposed to be a glide, not flapping our wings hysterically, that’s just too much trouble.
Capricorn: Mars has just started getting comfortable in your sign. Okay, work with me on this, I was riding shotgun with a buddy of mine, and we were cruising down the Interstate, on our way towards the beach. Modesty forbids me from mentioning the driver’s name, other than he’s usually called “Bubba.” I pointed out a rapidly approaching rest area and suggested a quick stop. His truck was set on cruise control. We blazed through the rest area at 77 MPH. Don’t try this on your own. We went flying up the access ramp, he swerved once through the parking lot, and we narrowly missed an 18-wheeler rolling back down the other side. That was the fastest “in and out” I’ve ever been party to. Never took it off cruise control. I didn’t suggest another stop, as my buddy driving was obviously in a big hurry to get wherever it was we were going [the beach]. He was really lucky, doing that interstate rest area at a few miles an hour over the posted limit. Since it was dark, and there was nothing on the truck’s grill when he finally did stop, I’ll assume we didn’t hit anything. What’s this got to do with you? You’re going to feel just like I did when the truck I was riding in hit that ascending exit ramp, and the speed didn’t vary one bit. It’s a Mars thing, that feeling that something isn’t quite right. It’s been suggested before, most of my friends aren’t “quite right in the head,” but they do have a lucky streak. Use their lucky streak. Don’t try this sort of maneuver yourself–Mars, remember him? Let some else do the stunt driving.
Aquarius: My cat is a great source of entertainment for me. My cat is also a great listener. She let’s me know she’s listening because I see her fur ripple a little, or I’ll catch a glimpse of the tip of her tail flicking once or twice–it’s how I know she’s actually listening to me. At one time, I was worried that I was turning into a crazy old cat person, you know, just me and the cat, and the cat gets pampered a lot. Might still be the case, but my Aquarius self isn’t too worried about that–not now. The problem I have with the cat, it was close to ten years before I realized she was actually listening to me. It took a while before I noted the various eccentricities that indicated she was actually paying attention. If I position myself just right, I can see her tail twitch. Or if I’m speaking crossly, at some situation, just sort of venting, and I feel like she’s not listening, I watch closely and her copious backside has a little ripple. That’s how I know I’m getting through to her. Unfortunately, times like now, what with Mr. Mars so firmly entrenched in the sign that precedes you, it seems like you’re like me, you’re spending a lot of time addressing a somnolent, supine feline. You know what? Some weeks are just like that, the cat might be the only person listening. Watch for that tail, just to see if I’m right about this.
(c) 2002, 2003 by Kramer Wetzel for astrofish.net
