Where be your powers?”
Shakespeare’s King John [V.vii.110]
Aries: I was diddling with the horoscopes, trying to catch that one egregious error that always seems to slip through, and I got sidetracked with a stack of bills. As I was shuffling the bills around, I happened upon one that had that nice note, “Please remit in full by 11/10, in order to avoid any further unpleasantness.” No, that’s not what the bill really said, but I’d like to believe that was its message. So I looked at the purported bank balance, and I wrote out a check. It’s matter of doing something that needs to be done, rather than doing something that you want to do. I’m not sure how your Aries self works out priorities, but whatever way you have ranking and weighing what’s most important? Get after the top items first in order to avoid any further unpleasantness.
Taurus: I’m going to bore you with yet another fishing story. Last month, actually, the last day of September, I was in East Austin, on the hike and bike trail, doing some serious mileage plus toting a fishing rod and a pocket full of worms. I happened upon on this one culvert, under a big old shade tree, and there, in the still, clear water, I could see a school of perch. Then, as I waited, I noticed a couple of my favorites, bass. I adjusted my tackle, and I flipped a little plastic thing on the end of the hook, right out into the pool, then slowly watched as I dragged that bait back. A tiny, ferocious, small, large-mouth-bass tasted the bait, then, he inhales the bait. All while I was watching. I pulled him up, took his picture, then I got the hook out of his mouth. Then he flipped out of my hand, and did a little dance on the grass. Victory dance for the bass? Trying to get back to the water? I don’t know what was going on his bass mind. I wound up talking to the little critter, “Hey. HEY! Hold still, let me put you back in the lake. Hold still, wow, little feller, hey, come here. No! Don’t bite.” It didn’t bother me at the time, but as I picked up the pole and got on down the trail, I noticed that there were two couples, one couple was pretty heavy in some tonsil-tickling, so I didn’t worry about them. But the other couple was having a picnic, and they were not involved in swapping bodily fluids. Did they hear me talking to a fish? Did they care? Does it matter? I heard no snickering, no sideways glances, so maybe me muttering to a fish doesn’t matter. At least I was talking to someone, instead of just talking to myself. Got to watch that, especially this week.
Gemini: Probably a little hard to believe, as bright as Gemini folks tend to be, but I did have one explain that he, “Failed to distinguish myself academically.” I got giggle out of that comment. “Failed to distinguish myself academically.” It was about college, and it was about failing on the first try. The long story, it is a Gemini’s tale, is all about the first rush of freedom, the heyday of youth, lost opportunities, and so on and so forth, as only a Gemini can muster up a long and sad tale. It changed, though, because that particular person did get a second chance, and that person did ultimately, distinguish himself academically. I’m leaving out a lot of the details because those details are not germane to the point. You’re Gemini. You get a second chance. Do something with that second chance. You’re a little older, a little wiser, a little more worn from exposure to the world, but that’s a strength, now. Use it. You can distinguish yourself.
Cancer: It’s deer season in Texas. Just started. Means troops of weekend hunters are heading out to the woods to blast away at dainty forest creatures. Some folks will bag a deer, and then it’s a long trek out of there to get the carcass to the processing point. Eventually, that critter becomes venison. Tasty and delightful. I’m also assuming that there’s a basic understanding that there really is an over population of deer, and that this isn’t some kind of weird, sick and twisted blood sport. It’s all about balance. The words echo back to me every year at this time, an old flame, “Oh, you’re going to shoot Bambi’s daddy? That’s so sad. Can I get some venison from you?” Now that I’ve thoroughly upset that delicate Cancer sense, let me warn you about an upcoming event. Let’s pretend that you’re hunting. Let’s pretend that there’s a firearm in your hands. You’re going to have an itchy trigger finger. Careful! Except for one buddy of mine, I seriously doubt that any other Cancer folks are deer hunting in this next week. But that doesn’t stop your trigger finger — or mouse — or keyboard — fingers from being a little itchy and prone to making hurried comments that might not be called for.
Leo: Poison Ivy and its familial kin, Poison Oak is pretty common along the creeks in Central Texas. I tend to avoid ivy with three leaflets and a red stem. Usually. I was blundering down to the water’s edge, here at shady Acres, and my Leo neighbor pointed out that I was in the middle of Poison Ivy. She’s a Physician’s Assistant, and she doles out medicinal stuff, sort the trailer park’s doctor. “I’ll be shooting you up with Cortisone next week, ha-ha.” I’ve fished from that location several times. Never had a problem. Never was an issue. I never noticed that there was poison ivy/oak there, either. But a few days after her comment, I started to get a little rash on my arm, right where I’d brushed up against a vine trailing up a tree. Coincidence? Surely. Sometimes, it’s better not to know. Sometimes, dumb luck is just that, dumb luck. So, watch out for the plants that cause discomfort.
Virgo: I was pulling a “Fluke” through the water, the crystal-clear water right up by the shoreline. A “fluke” is a piece of plastic that’s supposed to look like a bait fish, and the one I was using, the fluke was about three-quarters of an inch wide. I had a big number four hook buried in it, and hopefully, one of the big boys would take that fluke as a challenge. Instead, what I watched happen, a tiny, baby bass hit that fluke. The little critter wasn’t any longer than the plastic bait. The little guy’s big mouth got firmly around the mid-section of the plastic, but he didn’t even come close to getting the hook. I could feel the strike, watch the strike, but I couldn’t stop laughing long enough to try and catch the irritably little bass. The markings were clear, in the shallow water, it was a black bass, hardly more than a minnow. The more I think about it, the more amused I get. Then there was the sad fact, too, that piece of plastic, that bait? It was bigger than the fish. Might have been a Virgo fish, for all I know,. I’d like to think so. As sporting fish, that little feller was attacking something ever-so-much larger than himself. I admire that kind of attitude. But as a casual observer? Is it really smart to attach something that’s bigger than yourself? And then try and eat it, too? Maybe not such a good idea.
Libra: I was in a bar, we’d headed over to listen to a particular band play music. I was watching and observing humanity, in its usual forms, come through the front door of that place. It tickled me when two guys greeted each other with a fairly, at least to me, artful “soul shake,” a combination of hand motions and gyrations to indicate a long-lasting bond of brotherhood in one form or another. The greeting wasn’t unusual. What piqued my curiosity was the way the two gentlemen were attired, cheap pearl snap shirts, Wranglers (with a Skoal worn patch), boots, CO-OP & John Deere hats. So the hand jive just didn’t jive with me. I didn’t get it. Perhaps it’s a more global society, or perhaps the attire was an affectation, or maybe, there’s something deeper here. Or maybe not. I can’t say, with absolute certainty, that they were not drugstore cowboys, but by the visible wear and tear, I’d suggest that the pair were the real thing. Or close to it. Imagine yourself in situation wherein you watch some exchange like this. Had I been in the barrio, or perhaps in a more inner-city setting, this type of exchange of hand signals, the elaborate handshake would’ve seemed normal. Jupiter is good to you, but not in an expected manner. Don’t be too surprised when the appearances of a situation aren’t quite what you were expecting.
Scorpio: “Ah c’mon, man, hook a brotha up!” I was pleading for something, and I did a little move, like a dance move, only, coming from me? It looked like I might be having a seizure, or something. I found out later, a friend of mine refers to my “move” as the “white man dance.” As in, “white men shouldn’t dance in public. Ever.” I’m comfortable with that. There are times when a good move can punctuate a particular situation, when a gesture combined with some fluid body language gets a point across. This wasn’t such a time. In my own mind, in our shared Scorpio mind, just such a move is not only called for, but justified, in order to get your point across. Stop before you “bust a move,” though, stop. Think about that that little gyration, the way you swing your hips, the little two-step move that goes with your action. Think: does it really convey your point? Are you punctuating a message properly? Or do you look like a stiff, arthritic, hopelessly over-the-hill white guy who thinks he looks cool when, in reality, he looks stupid? I don’t want any Scorpio to look stupid these days, all I’m saying, before you break out and dance? Might want to think about the moves.
Sagittarius: I have a little indicator of the way things are moving these days. That indicator is the e-mail I receive. Plus the phone calls and personal consultations. Gives me a chance to gauge what’s going on. These last few days? And for the next week coming up? Lots of folks seem to be cranky. Cranky about one thing? Not just one thing, but it’s the myriad of usual problems, boyfriends, girlfriends, parents, bosses, clients, all about the same to me. It’s always the “other person.” So here’s our normally happy, carefree, upbeat Sagittarius selves, right in the middle of this mess. My solution? This might not work for you, but it does work for me: I turned off the cell phone. Calls rolled over to the voice mail. My “hotline,” the “reading line” I use for phone consultations? That number is on a flasher-ringer. I turned the sound off. Unless I know to watch for a call, I won’t see it ringing. What my isolation did? Made my days a lot easier. Less hassle, less stress, and I actually got some work done, which was the point of the exercise. And I buried the pager in the laundry basket, too, so I couldn’t hear it buzzing. Won’t work for everyone, but in our own world, it’s a viable solution for most of us Sagittarius types.
Capricorn: Remember when the term “networking” was the hot buzzword? Aren’t you just a little sick of such terms? Buzzwords, cute advertising phrases, all that crap? I’ve encountered a problem because the term, “Fishing Guide to the Stars” is a really too long in our modern day. Plus there’s the onerous weight that not many folks get the humorous allusion to fishing on the lake of life, as opposed really fishing on the lake. Not that there’s much difference in my mind, either. But my lack of marketing skills shouldn’t worry you too much. These next few days are about connection that you make. The moon’s phase is on the downside. She — the Moon — is getting thinner and thinner, and by the time this scope runs, she’ll be gone. Great time to do two things, it’s a good time for checking p with old friends, and it’s a good time to take a nap. I’ve found that my personal rhythms are pretty closely tied to the phase of the moon, and as it gets thinner and thinner, I tend towards epic naps in the afternoon. The deal, is you can put off that two-hour “nap,” you might be able to reconnect with old buddies. Think networking. Think about getting together with old buddies. Might lead to something good.
Aquarius: I was standing at the corner of two very busy streets, just a little south of downtown. Sun was out, perfect Fall weather, and I was about to walk as I had the little guy flashing in the signal that indicated I was clear to walk, Just as I stepped off the curb, a lady in a big late-model sedan careened around the corner. By Texas law, a pedestrian in a walkway has the right of way. But I’m a lot smaller than a four-door American Luxury sedan. Ain’t rocket surgery, figuring out who has the right-of-way. She screeched to a halt, gestured impatiently at me, and I was halted, mid-stride, frozen in time, trying to save my mortal soul. What flashed through my mind was the average curb weight of that vehicle. Plus a lazy, overweight driver who probably circles the block three or four time to just to keep from having to walk an extra few steps. All this was going through my mind, not to mention the image of me, flying up and over the car, like a rag-doll or an action scene from a movie. I hesitated for a beat. The music in my head was suggesting that I err on the side of caution. She got pissy and hammered the car’s accelerator, swinging wide around me. Deal is, morally? I was right. Practically? She — and her car — was a lot bigger than me. Doesn’t matter about the legal ground here, where she was clearly wrong. Car. Bigger than me. You’re face-to-face with a similar decision process. Never mind the legal, moral, or other implications, it’s okay to let the bigger and stupider person go rolling right over where you might have been. After the car passed? I flipped her off. Not terribly mature of me, but then, I never claimed to be mature, just old. Just because we’re right, and just because we have the right-of-way, by law, even, doesn’t mean folks will pay attention to the rules.
Pisces: I walked into a little convenience store, just around the corner from me. I no sooner got through the front door when a package of food took it upon itself to jump off the shelf. So I’m standing there, almost literally, next to mess of dried goods on the floor. Clerk looks up, “So why’d you do that?” Wasn’t me. I wasn’t near it when it happened. It’s one of those strange twists in life, a weird occurrence, an anomaly, nothing that I have any control over. “You spilled the beans, huh?” the clerk looked at me again. A few hours later, same thing happened, again, as I was walking into another store, a cookie by the front register flew, literally, flew off the shelf. Nose dive — straight to the floor. It was more of arc, as I was watching it in slow motion, wondering what I had to do with it all. Wasn’t me. Your Pisces mind is doing one of two things, wondering where I’m going with this, or thinking to yourself, “Right, right. RIGHT! That happened yesterday!” You’re just standing there, and apparently some object, longing to be with you, turns into a suicidal jumper, just trying to get in your pocket. Or you walk past a tall display at the grocery store, and it all falls over. The important point? You didn’t touch a thing. “I didn’t touch it!” I know that. Be ready with your excuses as not everyone is aware of your hyper-kinetic-psychic-psycho power this week.
