“This letter (is) excellently ignorant.”
Shakespeare’s 12th Night (III.iv.189)
Aries: Mars! Mars is coming! Celebrate! Break out the party favors! Get the noise crackers! Use many exclamation points! What Monday? Tuesday? Next week? Mars slips on into Aries. Time to make some racket. Time to party down. Or party up, or get your Aries game-face on. All that wind up is for a good reason, see, in old-fashioned astrology, Mars “rules” Aries. As if. As if anything could tell an Aries what to do. I prefer the term “Mars is associated with Aries and the First House.” Seems less patronizing. No one, but no one tells an Aries what to do. Aries respond much nicer when politely asked to be of assistance. Shoot, then the standard issue Aries is happy to comply. Deal is, until Mr. Mars arrives, early next week? Someone will come along and demand that your Aries self do something. Be gentle with response. I know you’d like to help, and it is unfortunate that the person is telling instead of asking. I suggest you make an effort to comply with the requests this week. Naturally, there’s a palpable risk here, especially for the person doing the demanding, but humor that individual. You get your Aries way, starting Monday. Maybe Tuesday.
Taurus: I tend to rely on a strong Taurus astrological component when it comes to matters of taste. I just trust Taurus sensibility as compared to my own risibility. In as much as I let a Taurus make the decisions for me, in matters that require a fair degree of flavor and style, I’m not sure that the Taurus tastes are all that they can be at this juncture. I caught a fish that I thougth gave me bragging rights. Big fish. Got her picture, threw her back. The bragging rights were’nt any good because I forgot to hold that fish up against a ruler. There’s a ruler on the top of the tackle box, there’s one in the tackle box, there’s one floating around in the bottom of the boat. But no, in the heat of the moment, I didn’t take the picture with the ruler and therefore, no bragging rights. This means that you’re in similar situation. You want bragging rights, and, in fact, you’ve earned those bragging rights. But without a proper measurement, like a scale, you can’t make any claims.
Gemini: “Fish are friends, not food!” It was bumper sticker I saw on a pickup. With a trailer hitch, but the truck wasn’t towing a boat, at the time. However, I can pretty safely guess that the truck will be towing a fishing boat this weekend. For those of us who are concerned with conservation, the term “catch and release” holds an almost religious connotation. Yes, the fish are our friends, not always food. Besides, considering what I fish for, I’m not sure that the fish should really be called a delicacy. More like fun than food. I’m not always sure who is smarter, either, me or the fish. The time I spend fishing, the time I spend trying to get one of those little fellers to take the bait? Someone is baiting you, too. Hard to imagine that someone would bait a birthday Gemini, but that’s the way it goes. I can only hope that the fisher-person you run into? I hope that person is like me, and like that sticker on the truck, we consider Gemini our friends, not a food source.
Cancer: I was in a border town, and the sign out in front of one local eating establishment read, “Comida Corrida.” I asked, figuring it was some type of local delicacy I’d never encountered before. My hostess, not a Cancer, rolled her eyes. “Corrida. Dumbass. It’s drive-thru.” I can feel really stupid, for missing an obvious and simple clue in a language that’s not really native for me. Or I can just be amused. My Cancer friend, you’re going to be some place, some time, in the next week, and you’re going to see a similar sign. “What kind of sauce is that? New way to fix peppers, a new vegetarian dish?” Or is it something that’s kind of obvious but we’re missing? Not asking the question? That’s less stupid than just making a broad assumption, an incorrect assumption. There’s a lot of good stuff floating around in your sign, Venus, Mercury, and the Moon is lining up with you, too. But careful, as you can make assumptions that might — or in my case — might not be valid. Just ask. You look less stupid that way.
Leo: Monday. Not until Monday. Just go slow, take it easy, don’t make any sudden moves, keep your hands where we can see them, and Monday? Monday it’s all better. I do love me my Leos, and you guys are — on occasion — the most fun of any of the signs. But until Monday, take it slow. This is all about anticipation. When I sit down in a TexMex cantina, the first food item that arrives is chips and salsa. I was in Little Mexico, and the hot sauce that day, made fresh on location, was particularly spicy. Just a combination of really good peppers and the chips themselves were hot out of the warmer. The rest of the meal itself almost paled compared to how good the sauce was. Now, I’ve eaten in that taqueria before, and the hot sauce isn’t always that piquant. Some days, it’s a little on the bland side. But that one afternoon, it wasn’t just good, it was stellar. The first course, if you will, the “before you really eat” food. The introduction. So when I’m telling you wait, and when I’m suggesting that anticipation and buildup to next week can be a good thing, consider that hot sauce. Consider how wonderful it was. How it was almost meal unto its self. Consider that. So the anticipation of next week? Might be every bit as good as the meal.
Virgo: Listening is an important skill. I was in a little cantina, not far from here, and the server was a Virgo with a characteristic deep East Texas accent. That’s what I mean by listening. To an average person, I’m sure, the difference between a Tyler voice and an Abilene voice wouldn’t be distinguishable. But to the fine-tuned ear of a darling Virgo? You can tell. Plus there’s that disarming East Texas Charm, that “I’m from a little town” attitude, a freshness not found in big-city girls. Plus there’s the way the vowels drag out, and there’s an echo, distinct with certain subtleties, from the other Southern and Texan dialects. Of course, as a Virgo, you should be appreciated. As customers, we appreciated that Virgo server in the cantina. However, as it turned out, not all her working companions were as tolerant — or amused – by that accent, “They tease me a lot,” what she said. Listen, though, really listen. There will be aural clues here, and a good Virgo — like yourself — can make that distinction.
Libra: I was watching as a couple of guys fishing floated past the dock here at Shady Acres. I chatted with them briefly, the fish-catching-man (gloating) was using a jerk-bait. Minnow lure, about so long. The no-fish-catching-loser was trying everything he had in his tackle box, soft plastic, cranks, top water, diving, swimming, everything short of jumping into the river and wrestling the fish ashore in hand-to-hand combat. Hand-to-fin. Whatever. The taunting from the fish-catching guy was really starting to get under the skin of the no fish-catching guy. I listened and inquired about who was using what. I could see a handful of poles in the boat, but that one fish catching guy? He was using just one pole, one bait, a single rig, “Yeah, caught five of them so far, to his none.” You can imagine the ribald gestures. Some days, doesn’t much matter where you are, the luck just isn’t there. I watched as they drifted further along, and what I observed was that the one guy knew exactly what he was doing. The other guy, the no fish guy? No style, no skill, just thrashing the water. Drop a lure in, then gently jerk the lure so it looks like something a big bass wants. With a degree of finesse, my fine Libra friend, you can be the fish-catching guy. Easy.
Scorpio: I had a book a manuscript that I spent several years gathering data, collating results, assembling the material, and finally, I shelved the whole project. The manuscript eventually got moved to back-up disk drive, and I forgot all about the project. I gave up. Or, I put it off until a time when I had more time to work on it. I was sorting through back-up drives, trying to recover a lost byte or two, and I stumbled, in as much as one can stumble in the computer world, across that old book manuscript. It’s rather dated material and it’ll probably never see the light of day, but the way it resurfaced, and what it could represent, is important. In the next couple of days, while you’re digging through something completely unrelated, probably in rush to get a job finished, you happen across a dusty old tome of yours. A Scorpio tome. Epic, even. I’m not a Scorpio, so that manuscript is going to stay untouched. However, you are Scorpio, and I’m suggesting that you dust off whatever it is that find, and run it up the proverbial flagpole. See if anyone salutes. Give it spin. What was lost is found — put that newly rediscovered bit of Scorpio wisdom to work for you.
Sagittarius: Yee-haw. Deliver that sound with a droll, dry tone. Yes, there’s a huge sign for improvement on the horizon. Problem is, here in Sagittarius, we’ve gotten a little wound up about a particular issue, and there’s nothing we can do about that issue. Noting. Zero. Nada. Zip. So before you go off on a rant, or before I go off on a rant, and it’s not like we don’t champion lost causes or anything, perhaps it would be better to assess that situation from a more Sagittarius type of view-point. Look at the big picture. As Mr. Mars eases on over into Aries, after the weekend, life begins to get better. Here’s the hot tip: don’t take a minor situation and turn it into a major problem. No need for that. Patience may be a virtue, but it’s not usually in the Sagittarius lexicon. This weekend? Patience is important. It’s what will keep from turning a negative into a very negative. It’s possible to turn this little issue around, if you can wait until next week. Monday, Tuesday, something like that, it all gets better. So be a little patient. As a Sagittarius, I have just the worst time removing my feet from my mouth. But with a little patience? We can all avoid the hoof in mouth syndrome.
Capricorn: Simple advice for the next couple of weeks: duck. I’m staying away from “Walks like a duck, quacks like duck,” advice. I’m opting for a much simpler, more direct form. Imperative. Operative. Just duck. By the time this scope runs out, Mr. Mars will be headed into Aries. He likes Aries. You like Aries. We all like Aries, but there’s a problem with this, see, there will be airborne material flying all over the place. You don’t want to catch any of the debris. Your Capricorn self doesn’t want to get caught in a carefully laid enfilade, caught in the crossfire between opposing forces. I seriously doubt you yourself are in trouble. The problem is getting too close to other signs that are best described as targets. It’s not you, but with that Mars movement, you could take a few hits that are not exactly called for. A pistol-packing mama I know, it’s legal, she’s legal and usually level-headed, she has a mantra, “Empty the revolver’s cylinder, reload, then ask questions.” This isn’t TV, although, it might feel like. Too bad you’re a supporting role and not the main character. I just hope you don’t encounter my pistol-toting friend. You’re not the target, but that cylinder holds six shots. Duck.
Aquarius: Interesting times are opening up in the Land of the Water-Bearer. How you communicate, and what method of delivery that you find best? Might want to take a gander at that, and see if there’s any room for refining. I originally wrote “any room for improvement,” but that term, its sense implies that there’s some portion of your Aquarius delivery that needs to be improved. As in it’s lacking. But it’s not lacking, it’s more like refining instead of improving. It’s like the editorial process at work around here. The scopes are written, then checked for grammar and punctuation, then checked again for facts, and finally the links on the websites are added, such as time allows. Plus the scopes get looked at one more time. Writing about writing is dangerous territory, as it gets reductive. But there’s always room for refining the techniques used to convey the images, which are used to explain the planets’ energies. Mars shifts signs, and doing so, he brings some attention to refining, editing, and maybe looking for some subtle ways to make the Aquarius delivery of information, be that visual, aural, or oral, or even just the written word, whatever, there’s a chance to make it a little bit more polished. I’d recommend working on it.
Pisces: I was shopping for fishing supplies, doing my usual bit where I browse the “discount” bin because what’s usually there is equipment that no one buys. No one buys it because it doesn’t work. It was early on weekday, and I was half eager to get home and try out some new tackle, but I was also interested in an exchange between two employees who were busy stocking the shelves with more goods, “Hey, Dante, did you hear about…” And I lost my train of thought. A clerk named Dante. If I knew I could work in just the fishing department, I’d almost consider a job at such a place. Then I started thinking about it all, and after about three weeks, I’d get tired of the customers, which leads to another cinema classic’s line, “This would be a great job, if it weren’t for the customers.” Which is why a clerk named Dante derailed my thought process. There’s always the suggestion that one ring of the Inferno is working in a convenience store. If the cinematic allusion is too far-fetched, then you can still consider your Pisces self lucky that you’re not working someplace where there’s a clerk named Dante. It’s really hell out there this week, and you’d be best off doing just like I was doing: shop early, and avoid the crowds, as best you can.
