For the Week of: 6/3-9/2004

Fishing Guide to the Stars
by Kramer Wetzel
For the Week of: 6/3-9/2004

"[If] you had any eye behind you, you might see more detraction at your heels than fortunes before you."
Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night [II.v.136]

The Sun is in Gemini, Mars and Saturn are in Cancer, Venus is still backwards in Gemini. And Uranus is about 6 degrees of Pisces. But what does it mean?

Gemini: I’ve tried to avoid stating the obvious about Venus. It’s that relationship issue that I’m thinking about. I was sitting in an outdoor cafe, rather, the "al fresco" section of a coffee shop downtown, and I was awaiting the arrival of some friends. Late as usual. While I was waiting, I had a chance to chance to see several sights that are not uncommon. A cross-dressing homeless guy.  Two, in fact. Then, across the street, a wedding party. It’s pretty hard not to mistake the bride in her dress, and the other fellow, poor sap, done up in formal wear, as the future husband. There were several other folks cavorting around the pair, sort of like dolphins dancing along the bow a boat cutting through the ocean.

Knowing full well that Venus is backwards and knowing that this was not a good time for someone to get hitched up, I watched in abject horror. Then I realized that there was a photographer shooting pictures, still and video, all along the way. It wasn’t a real wedding, it was either a DIY movie, or it was a dress rehearsal. Realizing that it really wasn’t the big day, I felt a little better. Venus will play tricks like that, get you all dressed up, out and sweating in the spring’s heat, just long enough for other folks to get some great pictures. At the very best — or the very worst — remember: it’s just a dress rehearsal.

Cancer: When I am doing a daily web log, I am always trying to be careful about what I write. I always consider that, since my own Ma Wetzel had a computer with net access, that she could, at any time, log on and read about whatever I am doing. Always scared me, a little, as I have to edit certain portions, just to make sure she didn’t ever get the wrong idea. The harsh facts of life, though, are that my dear sweet Ma Wetzel is a little old fashioned, and she doesn’t much care for computers. "Too much trouble, if you’re not here, dear," is a familiar line from her.

However, it wasn’t such a long time ago, that I remember walking her through the necessary steps to access the web cam. She was looking at it, talking to me on the phone, "That’s nice. But you really should put on a shirt. And clean up the couch, dear." So much for long-distance reminders of home? Nothing like a parental nagging, just to make sure we all know what’s really up? All right, I’m not sure that you even have a web log, or for that matter have a camera trained on your couch, showing your every move. Between a couple of planets, I’m thinking about Saturn and Mars, throw in a little Venus, and you can see that someone is going to be thrilled that you’ve come along this far, but that same person, usually an authority figure, is also going to make a suggestion or two about cleaning up the house. Deal with it.

Leo: I spent ten years living on the road. Started out couch surfing, moved up to cheap hotel rooms, switched from backpack to a shoulder bag with a laptop and one of those stupid little suitcases on wheels. Deep East Texas has a "Cajun" feel to it. Portions of the Gulf Coast feel like the Caribbean. South Texas? Mexico. Then there’s the oil fields in the Permian Basin. The barren, yet oddly striking, staked plains up in the Panhandle. The magic of the Big Bend. The unique cuisine in El Paso. Houston’s grimy yet oddly appealing "big city" sensibilities.

It’s all right there, under your Leo nose. All of this is well within the grasp of your Leo paws. Maybe you don’t really care that much for the geography of Texas. That’s okay — it doesn’t matter where you are, there’s still something, a yearning, an itch, and only travel will satisfy that craving. I’m not saying that you should just chuck it all, and go out on the road, but you know, it doesn’t hurt to dream a little?

Virgo: I hadn’t seen this one Virgo girl in a few months. Regular client and all.  In our correspondence, she was complaining about having "put on a few extra pounds," a usual Jupiter complement. When we met, she was dressed attractively in casual business slacks, and for the life of me, not that I would stare or anything, I couldn’t find any the purported weight. Got an image here?

You’re hopping up on the scales and seeing massive weight gain. We’re checking out your Virgo assets, and we’re not seeing it. Two divergent opinions here. The Virgo opinion might not be the best. With Venus where she is, the decent Virgo shouldn’t be afraid of soliciting an answer from an outside observer. Someplace, though, there’s a Virgo’s mate, and he’s rolling his eyes, muttering under his breath about how stupid I must be. "She’s coming up with THAT question again, ‘do these jeans [dress, shorts] make my butt look big?’" All right, maybe you’re not a Virgo girl, maybe you’re a Virgo guy. It could happen. It has happened. I was in the front of the boat, and looked back at my Virgo buddy, "Dude. Do you think that these shorts make my butt look big?"

Libra: The lavender is all but gone, now. Or maybe it’s wisteria, I’m not very good with identifying plants. Planets? Good at that — usually. There’s a spot on the hike and bike trail where one tree blooms and it infects the area with a heady aroma of lavender. Or maybe some other flowering vine, I’m not sure. It’s not unlike the jasmine I had flowering a few weeks back. Great smelling plants. I’m not even sure that the vine outside my window is really jasmine. Might be some kind of ivy. I’ll stick with what I know: it’s a plant and it smells good.

Your Libra self can spend a fair amount of time trying to decipher great meaning here. Better yet, you can spend some time trying to figure out just what kind of flowering plants I’m talking about. Or you can worry through the allergens created by the same flowering plants. Or, better yet, you can imitate my actions: just shut up and enjoy what’s good. Not everything is going swimmingly well at this very moment. If it is? Then enjoy it. If it’s not? Then look around at the plants and enjoy the late spring aromatic offerings.

Scorpio: There’s a barbecue chain, originated in a town in Texas, and this one chain has about the best BBQ sauce I’ve ever tasted. I was curious about its ingredients, and I made the untimely mistake of reading the label. "Water, high fructose corn syrup, lard, pork lymph nodes, salt, garlic powder, nitrates, nitrites, nitrotes, nitrutes, ground up cigar butts, pocket lint, activated charcoal filters, javelina fur, BHT, BHA as a preservative…."

Ever get the feeling that sometimes, it’s better not to know? That’s the hazard of reading the label. Most of the excellent Scorpios I’ve ever been in contact with? They all want to know. Details. Exact details, specifics, and how to use this knowledge for the best of their Scorpio uses. Reading the label is a good idea. However, if you find yourself in BBQ place, just a little west of Austin? Can I recommend that you don’t put on your reading glasses and look at the contents of that bottle of sauce? Might put you off your feed for a spell. Some things are necessary knowledge. Sometimes, though, the inquisitive mind will get you in trouble. Some things are "called secret ingredients" for a reason. It’s okay to be inquisitive. But try and not be too inquisitive. You wouldn’t believe some of the other stuff on that label.

Sagittarius: I was mixing up a couple of "road trip" CD’s. Venus, in apparent retrograde motion, in the sign that is opposite Sagittarius, makes for some interesting selections. Bizarre? Tasteless comes to mind, more than anything else.  I would see the humor of putting a dead country star’s song next to a punk song next to classic rock next to classic punk next to Nashville pop with insidious lyrics [and an amusing hook]. Coming though the stereo on the computer, the transitions were smooth. Interesting. Entertaining, even.

But when I got around to slipping that very CD [remember: Venus affects good taste] into the truck’s CD player? It sounded like an amateur DJ on speed with no musical sensibilities whatsoever. In fact, most of that description fits, except that it was just two cups of black coffee, nothing stronger. The folks traveling with me all voted that my wonderful, carefully selected dubbed music was going to be the next piece of skeet. My hours of work, shot down, just like that.

Look: maybe you’re not actually mixing music and burning outlaw CD’s. Maybe you’re not gathering up your favorite road tunes and carefully sandwiching them next to each other. But I am pretty sure that your Sagittarius tastes — or lack thereof — will upset some folks. In my case, my compilation CD’s are legendary — legendarily bad. You can blame the stars, but I prefer to blame genetics — for insurance purposes. In case you’re really wondering, you can’t please all the folks all the time, but it takes rare talent to offend all of them at once.

Capricorn: It’s starting to get hot out. Because of the publication cycle of horoscopes, I can’t predict for sure that’s it been approximately 32 days since we’ve seen rain. I saw some rain just this last week, though. It wasn’t "rain" rain insomuch as it was the "threat of rain" rain. Strictly speaking, I did get rained on. The morning, like your week, dawned clear and "purty." The sun glistened off the calm river’s surface. Later in the day, fleecy clouds escorted a thin breeze, ruffling the water and making it all feel a little nicer. But it was still muggy.

I didn’t realize how muggy it was until I stopped off for some BBQ.  Then I heard Sirens’ calling, beckoning me unto an Amy’s for ice cream. Next was the southwest journey back to Shady Acres. One or two of the clouds had that "rain cloud" darkness about them. I sniffed the air. No smell of rain, just a threat, and not much of one, at that. Then, as I hit the bridge, I got splattered by a couple of big drops. Huge drops, really, and those drops of water? They were spaced pretty far apart. Not really rain, more like heavy humidity. In a few more meters, though, the rain abated. It was only after the cloud passed, only after the threat of rain, only then could I smell that smell, the aroma of rain. Planet’s this and planet’s that, it’s the threat, not the actual outcome, that’s what’s important. Like a spring rain. Or threat of rain.

Aquarius: Two big questions, love or money? Looks like one question, and my suggestion?  Stick to the money end of things. Evil little Venus is creating havoc in the love arena of your life. Nothing you can do about that. I had this one girlfriend, and she got rather upset with me about the whole astrological milieu, and the fact that I wouldn’t argue with her when Venus was backwards like this. I just didn’t take her bait. Simple as that. Which, if you know anything about human behaviors, just irritated her more because I wouldn’t step up to the plate and bat. Or get in the ring and fight.

This is where applied astrology just made the situation worse, because I knew that if we got into it, my morally superior stance would win, but the win would come at a loss — I’d be sleeping alone for another week. Now, here it is, years later, and I’m not seeing that girl anymore, but I’m a little wiser, and I’m passing this wisdom onto my Aquarius friends. Love or money, which will it be? I’d stick to the money end of things. Money won’t ever buy love, but sometimes you can rent it for a little while. Or so I’ve been told.

Pisces: "In the cold gray light of dawn…"  I quoted that, wrote it down, looked at it, and I couldn’t figure out where I was going with it. I’d tap a neighborly Pisces and ask, "What was I going to do with that?" But seeking outside assistance sort of renders a horoscope useless, now doesn’t it?

Deal is, Miss Venus is messing with your head. Messing with mine, too, and I’m not even a Pisces. She’s just doing her dead level best to make sure just about every avenue of communication, especially if this avenue has any kind of romantic overtone what-so-ever, is thoroughly confused. It will all be clear, clear enough, on another day. Maybe after sleeping on it for a few days? Confusion is sure, and the easiest way to deal with Pisces consternation from the aforementioned confusion? Best thing to do this week? Nothing. Or sleep on it. Then, in the cold gray light of dawn, it all make more sense.

Aries: I spent several years listening to one particular Aries client shuffle through one low-paying gig after another. Lovely lass, many fine Aries qualities, but life just wasn’t treating her a manner she was accustomed to. "Death before retail," she cried, and then wound up in a convenience store for an afternoon shift for a spell. "Death before food service," then she wound up in a coffee shop. While the work of frothing lattes wasn’t really her kind of job, the part of customer interaction really was okay. And, apparently, the tips were good, too.

Now, imagine, if you will, that you’re like my Aries friend who used to make decent cappuccinos downtown, the work itself is a little boring, and the store’s owner can be a prig, but the constant flux, the ebb and flow of downtown crowds is interesting. That Aries?  One of her customers hired her — for a creative position that was, like a dream come true. The same conditions are creeping into your sign right now. I’m not saying it will happen this very week, but the over-all portents are good. Keep hustling.

Taurus: There’s a horrible situation, horrible to me, anyway, just up the hill from Shady Acres. It’s a vintage [name brand] trailer that’s been turned into an office. What a terrible waste of a fine, old trailer, huh? When it was rolled onto the grounds, into that person’s front yard, I hoped that it was a renovation project. It was. Ripped out the guts, and turned the whole thing into a portable dot com office. I can run a dot net office in a much smaller place.

In the face of an economic downturn, I relinquished a lease on an office, and moved everything onto my kitchen table. Makes meals a little difficult but then, there’s the rent saved, right? It’s time to consider a cost-cutting measure like I did. Maybe moving a home-based business into your home isn’t the best idea, but it has merit. Just consider, though, for a moment, all the ramifications of just such a move. While I deplore the way a fine, antique mobile dwelling unit was used as an office, it was an inspired way to have a home office that wasn’t, like, right next to the bedroom. That’s not such a bad deal.

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

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