“Oh you heavenly charmers! What things you make of us!”
Shakespeare’s Two Noble Kinsmen [V.iv.131]
Fishing Guide to the Stars For the Week of: 9/2-8/2004
Aries: Looking good, my fine Aries friend, looking good. Right? No? What’s the matter? No, wait, let me give you a hint: before you start telling me about how this and that aren’t working out, give it a few moments’ rest. It might not be right now, but before the scope of this horoscope is done, I’ll promise, almost an iron-clad guarantee, that life is better. I can’t fix everything, but there’s one problem, one area of enterprise in your life that can use a little help. “Help is on the way!” to quote Groucho Marx in the b&w classic, Duck Soup. What’s with that scene from truly classic American cinema? One, I own a copy of the film. It’s great. Two, it’s comical, satirical, and lovely, all that the same time — much like your life. Three, and I’m not making this up, Venus, Mercury and/or the Sun all lend themselves to one particular area of your life being improved. It’s not without some action on your part, though. Like that movie’s finally footage, you have to make a call. Or take some action. Engage. I’ll promise help will arrive, if you ask the right people.
Taurus: Cabs spooling — or schooling, like fish — by a downtown hotel with the diverse group of cabbies haranguing each other. The background smell of old grease reheated, a burger place about to start making fries for the day. A lady walks by, oblivious to world, singing quietly to herself. She looks up, sees me, and smiles, “Morning!” These are just downtown sights and sounds, from sitting on a bench, waiting for a bus. Open your Taurus eyes. Be in the moment. I’m not talking about next week, I’m not talking about last week. I’m suggesting, right here, right now, in your face, look. The amicable yet belligerent banter of the cabbies, one who’s been waiting, according to what’s overheard, all morning for a fare. No sooner does the empty cab drive off then a person walks out of the hotel, the bellhop whistles for a cab, and business is brisk again. A few minutes later, a girl walks by with a bouquet of flowers, she looks over her shoulder as she is about to step of the curb, “Whoops, didn’t see all those cars.” She smiles. See what I mean? Stay in the moment. Pay attention to here and now. Not next week, nor, for that matter, last week.
Gemini: I had a busy morning, one day last week, and between morning readings and afternoon readings, I had a chance to shoot out for a quick lap on the old trail. One of those good, if too short, “leg-stretchers,” that clears the mind. Inadvertently, I’d walked off without my phone. Blessed relief. In fact, as much as it might hurt at first, I’d suggest that you leave the phone behind, too. Good thing I did. I took a short cut. Variations on a theme, a little detour around where I’d usually go, a little off the beaten track. Actually, it was more like a detour through a parking lot and then I angled over the edge of an embankment, looking to make my route just a little shorter. The brown grass, still with some green it, was–in reality–pretty slick. My feet went right from under me, but due to the angle of the ground, and the forgiving padding on my backside, I didn’t hurt anything. Well, almost nothing, my pride was damaged, and I did that “quick, look and act surprised you slipped” thing. No serious damage, other than a few strands of dead grass on my shirt. And my pride. But no one saw. So, if you don’t want to slip and fall? Be a little careful, as Mercury rules the traction your Gemini feet have–or don’t have–and shortcuts can damage you. Or your pride. Hope no one saw it.
Cancer: Downtown, after the (I think this is an English Tradition, certainly not local) “Last Day of Summer” date, really isn’t any different. It’s still way hot in Texas. The sights and smells of downtown are different, too. There’s a hint of refried beans in the atmosphere, generally associated with the scent of hot lard in a frying pan, or on some restaurant’s griddle. We’ll get a couple of scorchers, back-to-back days when the sky is clear and the sun bears down with all his might. There aren’t coffee roasters located downtown anymore, so the car fumes mix with the cooking grease. Some folks wear formal business attire while others, like myself, are more casually arrayed. Holiday, school starting, end of summer vacations, it all adds up to a rather torpid, laconic pace. While I was waiting on a bus, I did encounter a certain Cancer client, dressed for business, the faintest sheen of perspiration evident, “Hihowyoudoinggottagomeetingproducersandbigclientsciao.” Ciao, baby. Whew. Was that a mouthful? I guess so. But I’m sure, you’re going to pass someone in the next few days, and I’m sure you’re going to meet and greet in the same manner — if not the exact same message, verbatim. Got a lot on your mind? I’m sure you do. Will you succeed? I’m pretty sure of that, too.
Leo: I was supposed to come up with an exact date when “The Leo” life all of sudden takes weird turn for the better. 9/6/04. Work with it. I might be off, though, because astrological timing doesn’t always work out just the way you want it to. But around then, Venus starts to gain momentum in your sign, and by then, Mercury is surely not retrograde, and by then, the fallout from Mr. Full Moon is making life a little easier. So the good stuff is starting. Or getting ready to start. Or, at least, it’s on its way. No, really, it is. The deal is, I’ve got one Leo friend, and she’ll be holding her breath until the announced date. By then, I’d like to suggest that she’ll be blue in the face. A couple of elements do combine and make this all a little bit better as the coming days start to arrive. But an exact date when it happens? Nope, I’m not going to predict 9/6/04.
Virgo: I stopped at a swanky coffee shop with one of my buddy’s, whose name is not “bubba,” and he looked a little lost. “I just want a cup of coffee,” he muttered. He had a slightly bewildered look on his face, as the surly service personnel handed my buddy an empty cup and rudely gestured at the bank of coffee urns. There was “Mocha Java Supreme,” and “Bavarian Mint Chocolate,” and of course, my personal fave, “Double Dark Italian Roast,” and “White German Chocolate Decaf.” He looked and wondered. Can’t say I blame him, either. “Which one, is, like coffee?” Take this one step further. You’re that Virgo, and you’re beset with a bewildering array of options. But, dammitall, you just want some go juice that doesn’t taste like it was scrapped off the bottom of someone’s boot. None of that road tar crap (that I like). I think he settled for “Columbian Excellente,” with its “strong finish, variegated with a slight nutty flavor and hint of wine-like follow-through.” Nothing 6 packs of sugar can’t cure. “I just wanted a cup of coffee that didn’t taste like swill.” You have choices this week, and some of them might be a little strange. Nothing I can do about that. Some of the “progress” we’ve made in this modern world leaves us open to the question of, “Is it really progress?” You know, my Virgo buddy might be right, all those flavors? Might not really be progress.
Libra: There is a combination of factors I was trying to pin some words on, see, Jupiter is one degree closer to Libra. Good. Mars is in the sign that comes in front of Libra, chronologically speaking. Not so good. The Full Moon is over. Really not good [unless you’re repotting certain perennials and evergreens.] The fallout from the full moon, even though Mr. Mercury finally turns his happy self around, gets a little rough. You’ve got a built in excuse, though, one that works well, if you so desire. “Must be the phase of the moon?” Look, it’s not always a good way out to start trying to explain irrational actions of others, or unintended consequences of your own action by blaming it on the “phase of the moon.” I can get away with that because I’m marketed as a professional astrologer. Not everyone should try this. It’s really combination of factors that all gang up at once, and while each individual action isn’t really too bad, after about three of them all at once? You’re probably going to find yourself a little upset. Chill. It’s going to work out, just not as fast as you’d like it to.
Scorpio: Ever get in a war of wits with “customer service” personnel? Problem being, I’ve been on both sides of those situations. I’ve been the justifiably angry and irate customer, plus–the last few years–I’ve dealt with customer service from the point of view as a merchant, author and webmaster. I’ve seen it all. Or, at this point, I’d like to think I’ve seen it all, and that’s not a challenge for someone to come up with a new and even more infuriating “customer service” situation for me. So I understand. My wager, for the next few days, for your chart, is that you’re getting stonewalled by some faceless rep on the end of the line with his or her unctuous, smarmy, “I’m sorry sir (or madam) but I can’t do that, it’s against our policy.” This is after you’ve played with the seriously irritating game of handset bingo, “Please enter the last four digits of your social security number associated with this account. Please enter your account number. Please enter you birthday….” Don’t do it. Hollering at that faceless minion, that droid of a customer service rep on the other end of the line? It might make you feel better for a little while, but eventually, you’ll feel a tad guilty, and I haven’t found way to apologize, not without wending your way through that irritating automated “phone tree” first.
Sagittarius: “It’s good, it’s all good. No, there’s a way out of this, I’m sure. Let me just think for a second, I’m sure we can figure something out….” Ever back your Sagittarius self into a corner, and then try and figure a way out, a little too late? That’s what’s going on now. I could’ve warned you about this last week, but frankly, I didn’t see it coming either. So now we’re both back in this corner, surrounded by either wet paint or monsters nipping at our heels, and there’s no way out. Or the wolves are at the door. Least I could’ve done was warn you, but then, if I’d warned you then neither one of us would be in this predicament. Besides, if I’d mentioned it, then it wouldn’t have snuck up on us by surprise. So we’re caught unawares, or with shorts down around our ankles, or some sort of similar situation. It’s not so much “dire straights” as it’s just a little uncomfortable and there’s one too many items (or people) demanding our attention at this very moment. Be nice if there was “pause” button in life, but there’s not. Be nice if we could put just one of those three items on hold. Maybe two of three, and then attend to matters as we can. But it’s just not working out like that. Sorry. Caught me, too. Here’s the good news: Mercury is certainly not out of his shadow, even by the time the scope is over, so you’re still able to play the “miscommunication” card one more time. Just be careful, though, as not all the people you encounter are going to buy your excuse, my excuse, “Well, see, it’s like this. Mercury is retrograde, see, in a compatible fire sign, and that means I’m not really responsible….” (Nice try, bucko.)
Capricorn: “You know, all I wanted was like, a little dish of some chocolate ice cream. I didn’t want to get a whole pint or anything.” Which always begs the question, in my mind, why do they lie about that on pints of ice cream? Four servings per container? Just whom do they think that they are fooling? Anyway, enough about the conundrum of packaging and marketing, and doing math (number of calories per serving, multiplied by four to get the actual content of a single serve pint), my Cappy friend was relating a tale about getting a hankering in the middle of the night. Really late night hankerings are best left to 24-hour places, and precious few of those really have gourmet ice cream. In this case, it was more like an “11th hour” craving, coming in some time right after the ten o’clock news. I know of at least one local place that keeps summer hours well into the fall, so I know that they’re open until midnight, at least. Which, of course, is where my fine Capricorn friend wound up. The problem was she dashed off without her wallet or purse. Fortunately, using her womanly charms, she was able to promise to pay next Tuesday for that little dish of ice cream. Guilt is a powerful motivator, too, in your world. If you find yourself in a similar situation — I’m talking about not having your wallet or billfold or purse — then turn on the Capricorn charm. Worked for her. Would probably work for you, too. Will you really pay? Not much of a question, is it?
Aquarius: Been some time ago, but I ran into this feller, and we fell to talking about Texas wildlife — as in animals that live in the waterways of Texas — wildlife, and he got around to a “growing up” story. “Used to be this one big gator, about ten, maybe twelve foot long, lived in river close to the ranch. In the summer, we’d tow a sheet of plywood behind a john boat, had about ten horse outboard on her, and the deal was, we’d try to see who could get closest to that gator.” The story took a predictable turn, with the gator growing larger and mostly more tame, and the boys of summer were taunting Death himself, getting within mere inches of the gaping maws. Ended with “true story, I swear.” Not being one to doubt the veracity tale from the East Texas swamps, I’m not about to suggest that it’s not all true. Imagine that your next couple of days is like that summertime tale. Imagine that little boat pulling you on a sheet of plywood, and the object of the game is to get close to a perceived danger. While it’s all good fun, without that threat of the big alligator, it’s not nearly as much fun. Just riding on a piece of plywood behind a boat isn’t too amusing. Taunting a fearful demon makes it all a lot more interesting. Here’s the hint: I like the story. I don’t like seeing how close I can get to big predator.
Pisces: One of my Pisces buddies is pretty staunchly conservative in his political views. Can’t say I blame him for his unenlightened point-of-view. I’ve found it’s a lot easier to agree not to discuss politics, as the results are flames about knee high for me, and little further up for his Pisces self. Besides, we agree on many topics so we just steer away from the hotbed of politics. I’m no fan of his choices, and he’s got unkind comments for my choices. But on other topics? I was cruising through his CD collection, Dead Milkmen, Cramps, Dead Kennedys, all solid, vintage, hardcore. All good. Well, good if you like that kind of noise. I do. I’m fond of it at certain times. Good, good stuff. What I couldn’t reconcile, in my own mind, was his taste in music versus his political affiliations. Never did get it. Two items to consider, given where Mars is in your chart. One, does my buddy really pull and make straight conservative vote when he votes? I don’t know, I’m not in the polling booth with him. I just have to trust what he says. Two, does his musical taste dictate how he should vote? Finally, like I’ve discovered–the hard way–some topics are best left for other folks to argue about. I enjoy this Pisces’ company, affable, good daddy, all that stuff. Excellent musical tastes. But when I’m around him, I’ve found it much easier not to discuss his deplorable voting record. You might try to steer conversations away from those sensitive topics when you know, in your Pisces mind, that you’re right.
