Fishing Guide to the Stars For the Week of: 5/13-19/2004

“What’s gone and what’s past help
Should be past grief.”
Shakespeare’s The Winter’s Tale [III.ii.220]

Venus RX in Gemini.

Aries: I can’t say for sure this affects all of the Aries at all time, but I’ve observed that most Aries really do require a full 8 hours of uninterrupted sleep in order to function properly. Just helps. A well-rested Aries is a good player, a good team member, and a good director. A cranky Aries, one who didn’t get enough sleep the night before, is irascible and prone to sudden outbursts that might not seem logical to non-Aries. The problem over the next couple of days is that there seems to be too much to do, and not enough time for well-deserved rest. Sometimes, that’s much-needed rest, as well. It should be obvious by now that I’m a personal fan of the power-nap. Even something as simple as 20 minutes resting, not really passed out, but just a few minutes in a supine position, that helps. Rest up while you can, as there’s a Mars/Saturn alignment fast approaching. It’s a turning point with a situation in your Aries life, and it’s up to you to do the right thing. A little rest would help to see this situation for what it really is. With some of the planetary tension around you, some of the pressure from Mr. Mars trying to force an issue, maybe “sleeping on it” is some of the best advice you’ll read.

Taurus: Happy birthday my dear Taurus. Last quarter moon sliding on into oblivion, an eclipse cycle, really, means that there’s still some strange influences at work in your life. The lunar cycle will stretch for another ten days or so. I was sitting with a Taurus friend, in my trailer, in South Austin, along the shores of the Colorado River, and I was chatting amicably about her various pierced parts. More than earrings, to say the least. Like a typical Taurus, these piercings all had to do with pleasure. No, I wasn’t about to do a demonstration, no “hands on” experience for me. But I was curious, in an intellectual way, about the way it all worked. She was waiting for me to finish up a horoscope, and while I was working, she dug out one of her portable projects. She looked at me, keep in mind what we had been discussing, and asked, “You don’t happen to have a crochet hook, do you?” That question meant that everything in my non-Taurus brain just ground to a halt. Imaginary smoke — from imaginary mental brake pads — was pouring out of my ears. “Uh, no, sorry,” I stammered. I collect my shattered wits, and made note of the situation. It’s that lunar phase, ands while such comments won’t seem too odd to your Taurus self, the rest of us? You might evoke a similar reaction.

Gemini: Venus is starting her annual backwards trek. There’s a new moon in your solar 12th house, happening in the sign that precedes you. Neither of these items are particularly good news for your happy Gemini self. Instead of looking at this and uttering, “Oh woe is me!” Let’s try something else. These are subtle challenges to your Gemini psyche. These are NOT obstacles, just little tests to see if you’re up to the minute on your cosmic report card. You should be. You’re reading this; therefore you know what is up. The moon is going to leave lingering feelings, strange nightmares and weird visions dancing around the periphery of your vision, long-dormant fears will surface. You can dwell in those fears, or you can simply acknowledge that it’s a fear, and you’re not going to be bothered by it. The Venus thing? She’s going to be backwards until almost the end of June. Nothing we can do about that, but matters of taste? Let that alone — unless you’re shopping to add to my collection of clothing. In that alone, I would certainly trust your taste.

Cancer: There’s nothing quite like a little fresh-water sushi. The Colorado River winds through downtown Austin. There’s a big hook in the river’s path, and there are eddies, overhanging branches, and even in the middle of the city, there’s wildlife. The common egret is fairly graceful, and I’m not sure about the name, this kind of critter might be called a cattle egret, for all I know. It’s a like miniature version of a great blue heron, long legs, stalks through the shallow waters and spears small bait fish with its beak. I was watching one egret do his thing. Her thing? I know nothing about the genders of those birds. I didn’t get close enough, or did I have enough time to accurately observe the way that bird hunted. I could see him stalking through the shoreline shallows, and I kept waiting to see him spear a fish on his beak. How he was going to eat it after that? I don’t know. I’m not up on all my fisher bird dynamics. Mars, fast approaching Saturn, in your sign. Can you be patient enough to spear a little dinner? Or lunch? The last time I looked, it seemed like bait fish were pretty thin pickings for that egret. Didn’t stop him from hunting in the shallows though, stalking along.

Leo: “When in Rome, shoot Roman Candles!” I heard a client say that once, and nothing makes more sense, given the lack of quality prognostications available for the next few days. It’s a tough time. Fortunately, there’s a tough hide on most Leo’s, and you get to let this astrological stuff slip right off. But it’s simple, sometimes you just need to let events garner steam, get to boiling point, blow up and blow over with no assistance from your Leo self. One of the most valuable pieces of advice I dole out in a personal reading is about how not to “engage.” Don’t take the bait. Seeing as how you’re Leo and all, there’s an extra side to this, as well, like, point out that the bait is just that, bait. You can plainly see the hook in the plastic worm. Tasty as that might be, you’re bright enough, aware enough, not to jump on it. Don’t engage. Now, the flip side of this no engagement process is even better. Call attention to the fact that there’s hook in the bait. Or, like I started out, quoting a client, “When in Rome….”

Virgo: One Virgo correspondent admitted, in an email, that she read more than just Virgo horoscopes. “I like to see how you’re going to trash the Scorpio’s, and how you always like the Sagittarius better than the Virgo’s.” Which isn’t true, but never let the facts interfere with a good rant, right? Deal is, if I had to pick just one word for Virgo these days, that word would be “good.” Of course, in the ever-perspicacious Virgo mind, brows furrowed, analysis comes up with that the word is just plain wrong. But it’s not. However, there is a hint that that your Virgo self should look beyond the immediate actions and reactions you’re having to my choice of words, and look a little deeper. There is a setback. Dire? Hardly. If you look, I’m sure you can trace some of the problems back to some other sources, other signs, that are causing you a small amount of consternation. Is it bad? Only as bad as you let it be.

Libra: I was sitting on the patio of a particular coffee shop downtown. A cool, spring night. I was watching as the sun set behind the buildings, a warm wind was stirring errant Live Oak leaves, and the downtown district was transforming from “business” to “leisure” time. I watched as a young lady, she was across the street, walked along with three juggling batons in hand. She wasn’t dressed oddly, nor, for that matter, did she look like she was off to work in a circus or anything. Just strolling along with three of those plastic items that look like bowling pins. Why? I’ll never know. I could’ve jumped up, and rushed across the empty street and engaged her in conversation, destination, points, how well does she juggle? Or, I could, under the darkening sky, just make up my own stories. I would suggest that certain visual clues did suggest she was of a Libra temperament. Facts are good. But sometimes, the facts are a lot less interesting than the stories you can make up yourself. You’re Libra imagination is like this, too, under that weird Venus influence. Dash across the street and finds out what’s really going on? Or just make up some stories about how this person is running away to join the circus, seek fame and fortune, and travel the world? How she’s really a championship juggler, off to teach a class? Or a street performer, off for a night of busking? Truth or fiction, which is more fun?

Scorpio: “When in doubt, nap.” Wisdom passed on from the world of my cat. This whole “Venus is going to go Retrograde!” hue and cry sounds like a lot of noise over nothing. It is, in fact, an issue. But it doesn’t have to be that big of an issue. There’s the Moon, and watching her, is equally important, in the Scorpio chart. So while other folks are panicked about the mundane actions of the heavens, I’m going to suggest that my fine Scorpio friends try and schedule a little nap time. Or a little extra nap time. Or figure out how you can lounge in bed a little longer. As Venus slides backwards, it’s not a good time to shop for items of beauty. Your Scorpio sense of aesthetics might be compromised. You might find a perfectly acceptable — to me — piece of artwork that your Scorpio self “just has to have.” Cool. Treat it like a possibility rather than like a necessity. Have to have it? Sure. I’m good with that. I understand impulse buys. But think, before you walk out of there, before you make the actual purchase, will it really fit with what you’re looking for? Sleep on it. Best advice available.

Sagittarius: I’m estimating it was about year, maybe a year and half ago, the City of Austin put up a sign on one of the bridges I cross to get to Barton Springs.”No Diving or Jumping from bridge” and the requisite city ordinance number. In the spring and summer, when it’s rather warm out, I use that bridge once or twice a day. When school’s out, there’s usually a number of young, urban males cavorting around, and frequently, jumping from the bridge into the clear creek below. It’s good 20 or 30 foot drop, and the water itself is cold, and I’m estimating again, about 5 to 8 feet deep. It’s commonly possible to see the bottom of the creek from the bridge. If I were younger, or more foolish, I might attempt just such a jump myself as it looks like fun. But the drop itself, the lack of receiving water depth, and so forth just kind of suggests that maybe this isn’t a sport for me. I wasn’t interested until the city put that sign up. Suddenly, this became appealing, in a foolhardy way. To date, I haven’t done it yet, dropped from the bridge to the creek. Venus starting backwards in Gemini is like that sign, though, as soon as I say “slow down” you might want to jump. It’s not recommended. That’s all I’ll say.

Capricorn: “Don’t look back, dude.” That was my Capricorn’s advice about a certain relationship issue. No, she wasn’t doling out advice to me, she was talking about something in her own life. I thought about those words of wisdom — dude — and I figured that now was the time to drag them back up. It has more to do with your relationship arena than anything else, and it has a lot to do with being careful not too look back. You get this terribly tempting bout with self-pity, anxiety, artistic angst and remorse. What’s so tempting? It’s tempting to think about all the “coulda shoulda woulda” events, and that leads to a downward spiral, ultimately that’s depressing. You can slide from bad to worse, and never leave your bedroom. You can slip into this negative train of thought, and nothing can derail it. Better yet, as long as I’m warning you about this self-destructive artistic angst, why not avoid it altogether? We’ll both be happier for it. It’s one thing to look back, it’s another to dwell in the past.

Aquarius: Austin’s Barton Springs is a constant 68 degrees Fahrenheit. On the coldest of winter days, a steam will form on the surface of the pool, creating a lovely fog. In the springtime, before the summer heat really sets in, the water at the Springs is almost too cold for a refreshing dip. Venus is like that water, cold and refreshing, under the right conditions. But you have to stop and consider, do you really want to plunge into that freezing water, just now? Maybe it’s a good time to skirt around the edge of the pool, and just look at the water. Think about dangling a big toe in the pool, and see if the water is really too cold? I’ve already been in. Several times. And I’m a wimp when it comes to that cold water. However, as long as a Venus is going backwards like she is, think twice, maybe three or four times before taking a plunge into some ice cold water. Seems to be refreshing, but have you really worked up a good sweat yet? And is the icy water really the right place to cool yourself off? I know an apartment complex, jump over the safety rail, and I can swim in the sanitary water there. Deal is, that swimming pool usually warmer, even if I am, in the strictest of terms, trespassing.

Pisces: I got used to the train ride from Austin to Dallas and back, less of commuter trip and more of an itinerant journey. Last time I was on the rails, it took close to six hours for the trip. But it’s relaxing, in a weird way. The seats are larger than the super first Class of the airline. Even the rails’ coach seats are nice. I could stretch out, take a nap, watch the countryside slide on by. I had fun identifying various landmarks, too. Brazos River. Poetic Bosque County. The gentle hills of Hill County. The various train stations. In fact, and I used this as a trivia question one time, the largest Santa Fe depot west of Chicago is Temple. That’s Temple [Belton, Killeen, Bell County]. Never been in the station, just stopped for a minute. Temple also sports a drive through coffee shop, just off the Interstate, rather handy, if you ask me. The rail service, once the spring arrives in full force gets a little problematic. See, the rails themselves, the steel ribbons that define the road, those get warm in the spring’s sun. Trains have to slow down. Then there are scheduling conflicts, too. Freight trains have to pull over to a siding in order for the big passenger train to slip on through. Sitting on the right side of the train, it’s possible to watch the sunset, right before arriving in Austin. Since I like to hike from the train station to home, doesn’t matter much that the train is late. Just after sunset, everything cools off. Venus? She’s like that. So what if it’s a little late, might make for a more enjoyable voyage.

About the author: Born and raised in a small town in East Texas, Kramer Wetzel spent years honing his craft in a trailer park in South Austin. He hates writing about himself in third person. More at

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