“Be cured/Of this diseased opinion.”
Shakespeare’s The Winter’s Tale [I.ii.296-7]
Aries: Yeah, I know, a few Aries are about tired of my diseased opinion, per the opening quote, or per anything that’s gone before, but times are tough. Look here, my fine Aries companion, your big birthday celebration–you get a whole month of this–starts on Monday. Maybe Tuesday, whatever. Until the sun slides his happy self into your sign, though, watch out as you’re wound a little too tight for our good. Not for your own good, but for the rest of the other, non-Aries signs. This weekend? Let the other folks be the center of attention. Your time is coming–next week. That white-hot spotlight, the white beam of light shining down on your Aries self will arrive, but it’s matter of time. What’s worse? This is just the wrong time, thanks to Mercury, to ask you to be patient. But give it try.
Taurus: I was standing outside, might have been in Midland, or maybe it was Marfa, but there I was, chatting on my cell phone. “What’s that noise,” my client was asking me, riding along in a car someplace else, “I don’t want to have to yell at you.” It was a train. You know, big train, about 4 locomotives pulling a string of cargo cars, the engineer–or driver–leaning on his whistle. I could hear the voice on the other end just fine; I had the phone’s earpiece stuck up next to my ear. But the client was worried, started yelling into the phone. “Hey, hey, just wait a second, it’s a train, it’ll pass….” Sure enough, that train rolled on by. Sure enough, that conversation picked up right back where it was left off. Sure enough, it was a just a momentary delay. What’s so strange, to me, is that these rail lines cut right through town. Like in Marfa, right through the middle of the town. Which exacerbates the problem of stepping outside to take a phone call. Communications sometimes hit a momentary bump in the road. Let it bother you? Let the person on the other end scream at you if they want. No reason for you to raise your own voice. That train in the night? Mine was more like the middle of the afternoon–it’ll roll on by.
Gemini: Take two items that you don’t expect to see together and combine them. I was passing through an airport terminal, on my way from Point A to Point B, and air travel, being what it is, was the easiest and simplest way to get there. I tend to travel light, and I tend to travel with a slightly bemused look on face. I’ve been strip searched a time or two, and although I comply 100% with all travel directives, I still find myself in unique positions. But what I saw just struck–even me–as a little different. It was a soldier, returning home after basic. Or after assignment on foreign shores. Who knows? I didn’t get a chance to inquire. He had a “man bag” slung over his shoulder. That’s something that I really wasn’t expecting. After spending days, weeks, months sloughing through heavy desert sand with 50 kilograms of equipment strapped to his body, I’m sure that something like a “man bag” wasn’t any big deal. Made sense. Practical accessory. But it struck me as odd. The guy was a Gemini, and that just shows that it’s quite all right to combine a couple of elements that don’t seem to fit together–at least not nominally.
Cancer: One of my friends is a rather plain-spoken astrologer. No fancy words, and, in effect, the same material over and over. “Saturn is a like a cosmic report card,” she once said. Then reiterated that idea over and over. Ground it into my head, as it were. So Saturn’s checking up on you. Saturn’s not a bad person, but he does inflict a bit of a dour mood. He’s the perennial “wet blanket” in your “life of Cancer” these days. Most events are going along, but maybe not going along quite as quickly as you would like. I can’t make it better, and I sometimes don’t have any real humor that I can interject to make life better. Will you survive? Of that I have no question. You’re reading this, so you understand the cosmic importance of what’s happening. Chances are, you’re on the correct path. Chances are, you’ll do just fine. The next few days, though, might not seem quite as happy as you’d like. It’s just Saturn, weighing in to check up. Smile bravely in his face, and say, “yessir.” Works around here, most of the time.
Leo: Verbatim discussion with an Austin cab driver, “Yeah, I’m on a ‘no shit’ diet. I was married for 17 years, and when I had a fare try to start something with me, I just told him to get out.” She wasn’t exactly the kind of person I would argue with in the first place, either. So I decided I’d be best if I quoted her. She was actually, sweet, pleasant, kind, and highly amusing, like a good Leo, with her “shit free diet” diatribe. That type of slightly crude, very much to the point, expression, though, it has merit. Matter of fact, that kind of diet plan, as a rule, might be well worth investigating for the Leo portion of the sky. Had just about enough? Try the new diet plan that works. No shit.
Virgo: I was just standing around, outside a BBQ place, waiting on my buddy to finish paying the tab, and I got to chatting with a mother and daughter. They were both married, and they were laughing about April First tricks to play on their respective husbands. “One time I hotglued the toilet seat down.” Oh, that’s funny, I’m sure. As a male, I’m not sure that I would find that nearly as amusing. Tickled that mother-daughter team to no end, though. Look: practical jokes are usually pretty good. The problem is, the target of your wonderful and wacky Virgo sense of humor might not be as forgiving, nor, for that matter, might be as understanding of the humorous intent behind such a joke. Imagine what that husband/son-in-law felt when he reached for the seat while feeling certain biological urges that could no longer be contained.
Libra: I ran into a friend the other day, after a lengthy exchange of e-mail, and she was telling me about a book that she’d just found, that was out of print. It’s really good, and you can’t find it anywhere, not now. “So the copy I’ve got is rare, right?” Nice idea. It has more to do with the chain of supply, and the demand on that chain, rather than anything else. I pointed out that there was an independent bookstore in town, and they carried several copies of the book. Then there’s a chain bookstore, national, mass-market kind of place, and they have copies of the book, too. Go online, though, and it shows up as a rare item. Virtually a rare book, in practical application, not rare at all. You can take this at face value, and wonder about what out-of-print books have to do with stars, or you can look a little deeper at some fact you’ve just been pitched, and maybe examine some of the details before you accept the statements for their value. A little leg-work, some research, it goes a long way.
Scorpio: Having a town full of convention people is a little awkward. In the past, what I’ve done is try to go someplace where there are no spring breakers and someplace away from Austin. While I’m enthralled that so many people find Austin’s charms so appealing, it’s also a giant pain. Fortunately, I’m aware of out-of-the-way places to dine. I’m cognizant of places less likely to be frequented by visitors. Still, parking downtown, cabs, popular night spots, and the streets themselves seemed to have filled up, and then, emptied out again. Like a surge of the tide, of natural elements when an area of beach is flooded, then the receding water leaves a small amount of trash behind, and an open expanse of beach. Austin may be subject to the SXSW crowds. Austin may host teeming hordes, and the beach may be flooded. Then, as the water follows its natural course, and the crowds all dissipate to their four corners, life goes back to its bucolic charm. Likewise, next couple of days, on into next week, Mars moves out of Taurus, and the frantic times in Scorpio are replaced with a eerie calm.
Sagittarius: I was sitting in a garage in a little town in West Texas. I’d stopped off to see some friends, a catch up with a client or two, and the evening’s activities wound up in the garage. The door was open, it was a cool spring evening, and there was a definite storm rolling in from the north and the west. Dark clouds stirred up a wicked-cool sunset. Then there was that smell of impending rain. Dust was roiling around. Stepping outside, not getting rained on, and then looking off to the east, there was a flash of light. This wasn’t any little lightening, or “spring showers display of electro-magnetic discharge.” Nope, this was a “huge bolt of juice, scarring the ground” type of event. The display was a little east of where I was standing, and the heavy breeze was kicking up dust devils. The brilliant pyrotechnics provided an amazing backdrop for the flat, West Texas sky. This was big lightening, not small stuff. Some place out on the desert’s floor, something was getting fried. I was smart enough to be close to house with a garage–in other words–I was in a safe place to watch just this sort of display. Park your own Sagittarius self in a safe place. Lots of fireworks, natural, man-made, and otherwise. Stuff is great to watch, from a safe distance.
Capricorn: I was cruising through a weird little bookstore, one of those slightly hip, pretty cool little independent places. Had a coffee bar in a corner, all done up in a little ash color, in other words, a clean, well-lit place. On the display table, I found two copies of books. One was weird text that I wouldn’t have even considered, and that book actually turned out to be quite good, a proto-hipster tome about life on the road. Then, another text caught my eye, with a picture of a travel trailer, not unlike my abode in Austin, set against a backdrop of cactus and laundry. Yes, I’ll admit, I succumbed to the marketing. I bought that book based on two factors, one of which was the idyllic scene on its cover. On the back of the cover, the picture bled over and around to the back of the book, there was a blurb about, “This novel won so many awards, epic first masterpiece,” and so forth. It might be a great novel by some standards. But every time I tried to read it, despite all the critical acclaim, the story line, the plot, the lack of plot, the confusing choice of words, and the shifting point of view, none of that excited me. I read all of two chapters. I’d get settled down to read and promptly get bored. Or fall asleep. Neither is an indication that the book suited my interests or tastes. Doesn’t mean it’s a bad book, just means I was seduced by the advertising. Happens, even to me, some times. Careful, as you’re operating under the same influence I was when I made that selection.
Aquarius: If you just had a couple of extra hours, a little extra time in the day, what would you do? I’d head down to Barton Springs, or out on the trail, wind around through the downtown version of nature, enjoy some cool spring weather, then stop off at a convenient BBQ spot. Or maybe fetch myself up some TexMex. Then, I’d detour around a diner, back through the parking lot of a sleazy dive I know [excellent music venue], up the street to get a cup of coffee, and finally, after killing all that time, I’d head back home. Problem is, our Aquarius selves can’t afford the luxury of such a meandering detour through an afternoon. By my estimates, such a little trek would take about four hours. While such a respite is well-deserved, and such a little trip would go a long way in soothing the savage Aquarius psyche, I’m not sure that we can fit this into our schedule. Times are tough, in that respect. So maybe we can’t take time to recharge our Aquarius batteries at this juncture in time and Aquarius space. Might be a problem, but there’s something you can do, I’m not sure what works best for the individual, but there is some kind of detour that you can take that will result in your batteries being charges. Strongly recommend you try that route.
Pisces: Weird dreams lately? Full of all sorts of events that just don’t occur in the usual, peaceful life of a Pisces? In some cases, not even sleeping well? It’s just the relative position of a couple of planets plus a soporific phase of the moon. It isn’t all that bad, just different. I can’t correct what goes on with your dream world. I can’t make many suggestions on how to deal with the dreams. Don’t you just detest that, when you get all wrapped up in an exciting dream, only, waking up, you’re not as refreshed as you usually are? Sleeping tires you out? What I usually suggest is some chamomile tea, but I’ve discovered that there’s a problem with that herbal remedy. Chamomile itself is from the same family as cantaloupe, and for that matter, ragweed. What I found works pretty good is that I’ll try a little antihistamine with my herb tea. Given my body’s chemistry, though, this sometimes backfires as the drugs and the tea cause a really vivid dream pattern. So maybe that isn’t exactly the correct solution. But somewhere between hard drugs and herbal remedies, there’s a balance point. Do what you have to, but sleep is pretty important.
