For the Week starting: 10.20.2005

“A surfeit of the sweetest things
The deepest loathing to the stomach brings.”
Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream (II.ii.137)
Is there anything as sweet as Scorpio time? Starts, during the next few days…. Jupiter eases on into Scorpio, too. Now that’s something.

Aries: There was a late blooming hibiscus flower, really, there was a whole bush. I was drifting south by southeast, maybe a week or two ago, and I was wandering along on warm, sunny afternoon, supposedly the fall, but at this time of year? It was still hot. I thought that the fall flower would make such a perfect little digital image, and I thought about how to frame the picture. There were actually two flowers, two beautiful blooms, but one of them was slightly marred by an insect, so I just reached and tried to brush the damaged bloom away. Hibiscus is a funny kind of flower, and the bloom fell right off. Underneath it, there was another collapsed bloom. I moved my hand to brush it away, focusing the little digital image recorder, and the shriveled bloom fell away, too. As did the perfect flower. I shrugged, stuck the phone or camera or whatever it was back in my pocket and hastened off to see a client. As the evening cooled off, the reading heated up, and I finally made my way home under the cover of cool the night, I passed that flowering bush again. The white petals were glowing, the dark red hearts of the flowers were hearts of darkness, and I wondered about the whole event. Or non-event. Sometimes, if you don’t use the right touch, nothing works out. It’s like last week’s message and lubricant. Or a little more caution. Or maybe, I should just have taken the picture with no adjustments. Maybe leave well enough alone, if your Aries self can’t do the feather-like touch.

Taurus: Short and sweet. Wish that I could do all the scopes like this. I was feeding the cat, a couple of nights ago, she was getting bite-sized chunks of leftover brisket. Rather good stuff, if you ask me, something from a two-meat Tuesday platter. I nibbled on it a little; she let loose with a plaintive wail; she got brisket. I fixed myself a single serving of cheap, nuke mac & cheese. I’m afraid to look at the label, there might not be any natural ingredients, and not that matters, not after it’s been microwaved for a while. I thought about this while I was munching, typical Mars material, I’m getting cheap, imitation food and the cat is living the life of luxury. Something’s wrong here. Mars problems? Know the feeling? I’m sure you do. Solution? I’m not sure there is one, except to laugh at the inequity of it all.

Gemini: I certainly wasn’t fully awake and alert, and I clicked through to read my horoscope, like I usually do, on a Thursday morning. I wanted to see what I’d written about my upcoming week. As I was winding down through the signs, I noticed that there was a typographical error that had, somehow, crept into the scopes. I’d looked at that material three times, but somehow, the mistake had stuck. It’s like a personal nightmare for me, thinking that a mistake can crawl back into the material, after I’ve checked it so thoroughly. But these kinds of mistakes can happen. It’s the feeling that I’ve gone and done something stupid, and I’ve let that mistake get published in a public medium, left unattended for all to see, hanging right out there in front of all the public. Worse, I discovered the mistake when I was still half-conscious. Before morning coffee. Semi-somnolent. Ain’t a pretty sight. The mistake, then, becomes a waking nightmare. Granted, this is not the end of the world, and true, I can fix the error with a degree of efficiency, in a rapid, workman-like manner, and the day continues to unfold at a much more leisurely pace. It’s just that being greeted, first thing in the morning, with a problem leaves a bad flavor to the day. Or an ill wind. Or some other fancy metaphor that means the day doesn’t start out quite right. That’s Mars, and he’s going to let one last, tiny errata creep into the Gemini life. What you do with the problem, and how you fix it, and, for that matters, how you deal with how you feel after you’ve fixed it? That’s up to your Gemini self.

Cancer: Ever have one of those days when you’re all bright and shiny, a happy person, and no one you encounter seems to be able to smile? You smile at some stranger, and the stranger shoots back a frown? If this happens just once, it’s no big deal. But as the rest of the weeks gets here? Same deal, over and over. Friends, family, coworkers, compatriots, cohorts, and partners in crime? You smile, they frown. You’re happy, and they — all of them — are suspicious that your sweet Cancer self is up to something. “They” think you’re going to want something, need something, desire assistance, money, aid, something. Your Cancer self? You just want to be friendly, no malice, no manipulation, no hidden agenda here. Look: the planets are making folks unhappy. Deal with it. Deal with the unhappy people. There’s no real reason for too much discomfort in your own section of the sky, so don’t let us get to you.

Leo: My fine Leo friends are noted for many good qualities, but rarely, if ever, is one of my Leo friends noted for a careful, measured response. Fire sign, passion, and all that? Sure. Shoot from the hip? Sure, that also. What times like this require? A careful, measured response. Before you charge, headlong, into a situation, a little bit of a background check can save you a whole lot hassle. There’s a situation, a developing situation, and instead of plunging into the problem, with no discernible plan, stop and think about it all. Stop and assess how you would be best served — how the situation would work out best — by stopping and making a judgment call in your Leo brain, then pause long enough to make sure that you’ve collected all the facts. Before you make that impassioned plea for assistance with one problem, dig a little deeper. See if there isn’t more to this than what meets the eye. I’m not saying that someone is deliberately misrepresenting the truth; I’m merely suggesting that taking your own, sweet Leo time is a better idea.

Virgo: Instead of getting in hurry, as you’re likely to be, instead of getting all fired up and rarin’ to go, take it a little easy. Slow it down, my Virgo friend. There’s a hint that you’re all ready for a big change. I’m with you on that, I’m ready for a big change, too. The big change is happening, but the problem is that no one understand the urgency that you seem to be feeling, Plus, there’s that very Virgo-like need to analyze, get the details and facts straightened out, and get on top of the situation. Talk this one out. There isn’t a situation that a little more talk, and a little less action can’t cure. That’s the point to Mr. Jupiter’s upcoming shift in signs. Communication is the heart of the problem, and dealing with that communication issue is what’s important. A little more talk, and a little action. We could write a song about that.

Libra: Little known English poet, once quoted, “But at my back, I always hear, times wing’d chariot, hurrying near.” I’m too unconcerned to go and pull a book off the shelf to make sure I got the lines right. But that’s about it. Or close to it, anyway. Andy somebody (ed: Andrew Marvell, “To His Coy Mistress”). In fairly fanciful language, the poem was all about getting his lover undressed — in a big hurry. So much for the poetry lesson today. I’m not poet, but I could play in a movie (if you know anyone looking to fill that role). Reducing that poem to its bare bones, it’s all about hurrying up as we ain’t got a lot of time. There’s a sense, a feeling that’s approaching, much like that poem. Easy enough to understand, because Jupiter is just slipping through the final stages of Libra, and there’s an urgency associated with this planet’s relative motion. Then I’m warning about Mars, and there’s a sense, that waiting and patience might be better. Hurry up and wait? Can’t do both. In the Libra chart, I’d suggest, after careful examination, that moving forward is a good idea, as long as you’re aware that there might be a setback due to Mr. Mars.

Scorpio: In Austin, spanning the Colorado River, there’s a recent addition, a bridge referred to as the Lamar Pedestrian Bridge. I’m sure it has a memorial name, and it was probably part of larger project, because there’s an “observation deck” area that looks like it was supposed to extend even further. The bridge itself has a wheelchair/bicycle/whatever ramp at the north end, a spiral ramp that gradually ascends to the towering height of whatever. I tend to use the stairs as the steps are far more expedient to my purposes, and it’s a good stretch. I was heading home, taking the stairs one at a time (Mars is retrograde), and I noticed a pair of adolescent males careening down the ramp on their tricked-out stunt bicycles. Moments later, they bounded past me, bikes over their shoulders, dashing back up the stairs to careen down the ramp again. I thought about it, and I thought about my Scorpio friends, and this whole Mars thing going on. To me, it looked like a lot of extra work, carrying the bicycles up the stairs, then coasting back down the spiral ramp. To them, it looked like fun. So there’s a little extra effort required in Scorpio land, is it extra work, as it appears to me, or does the fun justify the effort?

Sagittarius: I was fiddling with our Sagittarius astrology charts, and I took note of some planet action. It’s what I do, try and correlate what’s happening upstairs with what’s happening down here. Didn’t look good. Didn’t look bad, just not good. There’s a little work-related issue that correlates to Mr. Mars, and his recent activity, plus there’s that whole Venus thing, too. By the end of the week, Jupiter, our Jupiter, is one sign closer to his home, right here in Sagittarius, but that is about a year away. Nope, no matter what I did, no matter how I lined up the charts, I just didn’t see that there was a whole lot of “good stuff.” Nothing terribly bad, either, just not a lot of fun, or amusement, or anything to really look forward to. Nothing to dread, just stuck in a slightly, static moment. With Mars where he is, I can’t suggest too much activity. With Venus where she is, I can’t suggest not being active. See how it all goes around and around. To keep from getting stuck in an endless loop of astrological prognostications, it’s very simple, if not clear: little steps forward. Eschew our normal way of galloping off to the next great adventure. Take little steps, keeping in mind that Mars is trying to trip us up and Venus is urging us to take great leaps.

Capricorn: I was out at a music venue the other evening, listening to some Texas “cowboy rock.” I’m not sure what else to call that brand of music. It’s not country and western, as the steel guitar and fiddle are heavily augmented with an electric guitar. And while the lyrics tend towards drinking and lost love, forsaken opportunities, the backbeat is really a solid 4/4 rhythm. That was the staple beat of rock, way back when. I got to scanning the crowd, which was, even by Austin standards, pretty diverse. Moms and daughters (people I notice), college kids with hats and flip-flops, just the usual weirdness. What was different, to me, was the age range. From gray heads to skin heads. Odd, in that this is normal. I was looking at T-shirts, too, reading the slogans on the back of a great number of them. Best one that fits Capricorn? Imagine a fairly intoxicated young man, hardly able to function in a coherent manner, across his chest, a grey t-shirt, it read (something I couldn’t make out) and “Trust me!” Given the crowd, the time of the evening, and the relative state of most of the folks in attendance? That shirt flat-out lied. Just be careful about marketing, marketing hype and some slogan emblazoned on someone’s chest. Just because you read it on a t-shirt? That doesn’t mean you should immediately trust someone.

Aquarius: I never thought about fishing as “performance art,” because, in my mind, fishing is more along the liens of a meditative form. One of my neighbors was splashing in the creek, and one time, I landed a big fish, dutifully rendered on the website, while my neighbor was splashing not ten feet from me. So I took his action as a sign of luck. I was fishing the other afternoon, and he was still splashing in the creek, making snide comments about my apparent inability to land a fish that day. I got to taunting the fish. Best I could do, talk a little dirt to the fishes. “It’s okay, I didn’t want to catch your lazy butt right now, anyway, and I didn’t want to take your picture and make you famous. No, that’s okay, I’m not looking to catch any fish right now, I’m just dangling this worm in the water for fun.” The suggestions got a little more vulgar than that, but I was try a little reverse psychology on the fish. Didn’t work. Just like my brand of taunting didn’t work? Just like reversing the situation might not work for you? I’d be careful when it comes to trash talk, in my case, the fish took me seriously.

Pisces: Ya’ll are normally immune to this sort of crap, what the planets are doing. But there’s a trigger point, and the Pisces Patience is stretched a little too thin. Pisces Patience is now a slightly different expression, Pisces Impatient. I tried. I’m hoping you understand what I’m referring to, as well. But wait, there’s a little more to the simple wordplay. It’s time for life to be good, or better, anyway, and it’s time for this to be a little more fun, for you. But this isn’t going to happen overnight. It does happen. Just not right away. I was listening to a Pisces complain about relative health problem, not really a big issue, just a little modification of dietary concerns, more animal protein, less vegetable matter, and that got me thinking about this “patience versus impatience” part of the Pisces plan. The way my buddy was explaining it, the plan takes 6 to 8 weeks to realize the full effect and garner benefits. Likewise, you’ve got about 6 to 8 weeks to see something beginning to stir. Might be a little sooner, but the instructions said, “expect full benefits in 6 to 8 weeks.”

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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