“Thou hast no brain than I have in my elbows.”
Shakespeare’s Troilus and Cressida (II.i.45)
Jupiter goers un-retrograde this week.
Aries: I had a signature file, and one of the cute endings that get automatically appended to random emails reads, “Talk is cheap until you hire an astrologer.” Part of the Aries psyche that I admire so much? A certain randy, brash and rash way of dealing with exigencies. Consider that your typical Aries is generally quite good at shooting from the hip. Whether it’s an actual emergency or a perceived one, the standard-issue Aries is the one to call. In most cases. Not right now. Deal is, Mr. Mercury and the Sun hisself, they are both loping along in Gemini. So there’s more than ample opportunity for talk. Doesn’t mean that you have to talk, though. Just filling dead air space isn’t always a good use of valuable Aries words. Nature may abhor a vacuum, and my darling Aries may abhor an absence of words, but that doesn’t mean you have to talk all the time. A little quiet, a little peace & quiet, that would be useful. You get a chance to get in the last word. Shows up in the next couple of days. Maybe, just maybe, getting in the last word, one final “hurrah,” one last thing, maybe that isn’t what you should do. Let someone else have that last word. If you step back, that makes you a winner in the bigger picture. That’s the goal of this exercise in silence.
Taurus: As a writer, I’ve sent my share of query letters. Fact is, I’m a pretty poor query letter writer. There also seems to be something missing, and I was worried that this would turn tautological, or worse, become some kind of meta-fiction. What it amounts to, though, is that your sweet Taurus self is stuck trying to promote yourself in some fashion. Might be advertising yourself to the boss, an employer, a client, or even just seeking the right significant other. The problem is, like my query letter writing ability, you can’t seem to find the correct word to put in the right place. A form letter would probably be more useful, something you could just customize to fit your needs. If I were a nicer guy, or if I had a clue as to the specifics of what you were looking for, what you are trying to pitch, I could help. I thought about adding a few pointers for a personal ad, just to help grease the wheel in Taurus land. But that’s not working. Besides, what the individual Taurus is looking for varies. Just realize that you give it your best shot, and hope that something sticks.
Gemini: This is just a reminder that this is a happy birthday time. Plus, coming up at the start of next week, there’s going to be a New Moon, right here in Gemini. That’s a good thing, by my definitions. See: I’ve had better luck under the new moon than under a full moon, for good results while fishing. Excellent results. The amusing part to me, what tickles my Sagittarius fancy, is that the much used but rarely accurate “solar-lunar fishing tables” indicate that the dark of the moon is one day of excellent fishing whereas the full moon is three days. However, in my ongoing quest for excellence in Gemini horoscopes, what I’ve discovered is that the dark of the moon is a great time to fish. In fact, it’s a great time all the way around. Start something. Start something new. Get off your butt and do something, even if it’s as simple as fishing. It’s a start, and you should be having a happy birthday month before this scope rolls over to the next week.
Cancer: What are the odds? Me and a friend were headed out for supper one evening, not long ago. Cool summer night, the windows down on the truck and I was sliding through traffic, stuck on Riverside at Barton Springs, you know, that nasty intersection? We were behind a tour bus of some sort, probably loaded with tourists, or a ball team, or something. I took a shortcut and experienced a delay, due to the long traffic light and a line of cars turning. So when we pulled up to that spot on restaurant row? Guess what was disgorging passengers? The tour bus. Bad timing on my part. I was unwilling to wait for dinner so we just motored off to another spot. Simple as that. Regrettably, I’m not so sure that you can make the same decision that I did; I’m not so sure that you can just up and go off to some other place. Be nice if you could, but I’m not betting on it. So when you try to outrun or out maneuver the tour bus of life? Sometimes, you have to face the reality that the little hole in the wall you wanted? It’s going to be crowded with tourists, as if a tour bus just unloaded there.
Leo: Buddy of mine, oddly enough, his name is Bubba, was showing me some leftover slag, hot metal drippings, from an industrial site where he was working. Leo. Fire. Welder. All makes good sense. The slag was basically three columns, sort of looked like figurines, and — I thought — could fetch quite a price in an upscale place like Santa Fe, home of the over-priced artwork. We talked about that idea, long into the night, the most important part was giving the three warriors, figurines, or whatever it was, three piles of hot metal, finding the right name was all it took. Plus a ride to Santa Fe. When I next encountered my buddy, that Leo, I asked about the fate of the hot metal drippings. “Kramer, with the price of scrap metal? I sold that to the junk collector, I think it’s 10 cents per hundred pounds for iron.” So my Leo buddy wasn’t willing to take the risk and try to peddle something as art — more the shame. But he did get a good, albeit much lower, price for the “artwork.” Same deal, different situation for all my Leo friends, lower price? But for sure? Or a gamble that is potentially worth many thousands, but it’s a gamble nonetheless, “Slag art by Bubba, price $9999,” think it’ll fly?
Virgo: I may be a fishing guide to the stars, but it’s been a very long time since I’ve been bow fishing. As a child, I had a set-up for bow fishing, but I can’t recall ever catching anything. What prompted this memory was watching as a couple of — I though — well-heeled gentlemen-looking guys passed in front of Shady Acres and its dock, with a boat rigged just for bow hunting. Carp season has come and gone, but there for a few days, that was the way to go. We got to chatting, while they drifted past, and I pointed out a few choice spots, plus I offered up as much encouragement as I could. Carp are not exactly my favorite fish. One of the guys, in passing, offered up his best idea for how to fix carp, “What you do is tack the carp to a board and smoke that for about 8 hours. Then throw the fish away and eat the board.” The deal is, there you are, in Virgo-land, and along floats a boat, with a couple of lads armed with arcane instruments. Pay attention, when this sort arrangement drifts into your purview, you might get some decent culinary advice. Or a hot tip.
Libra: I saw an ad in a local grocery store: Pita bread, perfect for fajitas. I would have to suppose that this has something to do with culture, local versus world. Pita Bread — to my mind — is the same thing as a tortilla, which, I might add is a common form of bread — around here. In my mind, the two items are so similar that they are virtually indistinguishable. However, I usually associate pita with a gyro whereas tortillas are usually served with a more traditional form of local cuisine, like fajitas. Jupiter is making a turn-around in your sign. This is a very positive indication that events are starting to follow suit, that is, just like Jupiter turning around, your Libra life is set for a dramatic improvement. Don’t be afraid to combine elements that you wouldn’t normally associate with each other, like middle-eastern bread and Mexican grilled skirt steak.
Scorpio: “It all comes down to being the squirrels fault.” This timeless wisdom was according to Ma Wetzel, our favorite Scorpio. I forget the context, but it’s been a running theme, for some years now. I looked at the Scorpio chart, and I looked at the placement of certain planets, and I figured that you’re needing someone — or something — to blame. The squirrels. It’s obviously a “squirrel conspiracy” to eat holes in your Scorpio roof, the squirrels are uprooting your flower beds, and the squirrels are scampering across the roof at night, interfering with Scorpio beauty rest. Unless you live in North East Texas, in a certain town, in certain neighborhood, I’m not sure that you’ll agree that it really is a squirrel conspiracy; however, like as a not, you’ll find that some kind of rodent population can be blamed. Me? I’d look at the stack up in Gemini and wonder if that had something to do with the noises across the roof at night, the little pitter-patter of Mercury. Or maybe it’s the not-so-subtle shift occurring with Jupiter, in the sign in front of you. It’s one of them. Or all of them. I’m suggesting following Ma Wetzel’s lead, though, let’s blame the squirrels.
Sagittarius: I get a lot of questions. The answer you get depends on the question you ask. Are you asking the right questions? This isn’t one of those situations where it’s the same question, just phrased in a different format, this one of those places in the Sagittarius life where the questions have to be of a certain type. The type of answer that you get depends on what you’re looking for, but the answers are largely dependent on the question. The nature of the question, the way you bump the words into each other. Watch what you say, as Mr. Mercury is making you ask a lot of questions. What is it that we really want to know? The future is easy to foretell, it’s just a matter of asking the right question. The answer you get depends on the question you ask. Mercury — in Gemini — opposite Sagittarius — does this.
Capricorn: My love for Capricorn and all things Capricorn knows no bounds. How’s the Sagittarius love doing these days? Not so hot. Don’t worry about it. Deal is that Capricorn is in a weird — but good — position. Now. Right now. Not accepting anything else for an answer, either. It’s good. Perhaps there’s something you missed along the way, but changes are going on underfoot. The very foundation of your existence has been rocked. Living in a transient dwelling unit, I feel your pain when it feels like the so-called foundation rocks. I’m used to it. High winds, heavy rains, or some combination of both? I can — literally — feel this place rock back and forth. Not in a bad way, just enough to cause little ripples in the coffee (in a mug) on the desk. So your foundation is shifting. It’s not washing away, blowing away, and nothing is going to change drastically, unless you want it to, but there is a shift. You can feel it. It’s good.
Aquarius: I was just getting out of the truck to walk in the big sporting goods store. The super store. I was running a little low on a certain plastic bait, and I was looking to stock up on a few items for summertime fishing. I tend to park far from the front door, as feasible, to make for ease of ingress and more important, ease of egress. As I was sauntering towards the door, a patrol car, the cops, pulls up. No lights, but there seemed to be a bit of haste involved in the stop. Cop hops out of the car, motor still running, and he heads in the front door with a sense of urgency. I keep loping along at my more bucolic pace, and he suddenly appears again, smiling, a sales circular in hand, “I just had to grab this week’s sales’ specials.” No emergency. No crimes in progress. No donut jokes. He was just looking for a deal. Not looking for a steal. Sometimes, when an authority figure who might strike fear in your heart, you see something that appears to be a tense situation, and, if you’ll just continue at a bucolic, summertime, relaxed Aquarius pace, you’ll discover its not what it appears to be. In fact, it’s all quite harmless.
Pisces: six weeks ago, of thereabouts, I watched while a Spring Cankerworm (Paleacrata vernata) spun itself down from the willow that overhangs the dock and the river. That little inchworm hit the calm surface of the water. Hanging by a thread and then floating. I happen to know that there’s a deep spot right there, a place where fishes of all sizes like to hang out. I was watching the worm float for about two seconds when a dark object shot straight up from the murky depths. It was a little perch (Morone Americana), not much bigger than my usual lure, and that fish went straight up, gulped the worm down, and then the fish shot straight down. The nature channel, Nation Geographic, right here in Shady Acres. What I liked best was the way that perch moved straight up, like it was on the end of a fishing line. Gulp. The arborists and tree huggers should be happy that the fishes were helping eradicate a tree problem. Think about that little perch, shooting straight up, and then disappearing in the blink of an eye, or the flip of a fin, as the case may be. You’re like that little fish. Trust me. You get one shot at something, make it simple, clean and don’t waste any motion.
