For the Week starting: 11.3.2005

“The heresies that men do leave
Are hated most of those they did deceive.”
Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream [II.ii.138-9] Aries: Right place, right time, make it work. Simple command. Or rather a simple set of imperative statements. Or something pretty much like that. Don’t confuse the issue with labels. Mr. and Mrs. Aries have a certain strength that will be called upon in order to make it through the next few days. There’s stoic flavor to success these days. Problem being, as rough and tumble as a good Aries is, the stoic nature isn’t really you. But I’d like to suggest it as an option. Stoic personalities silently endure all kinds of toil and trouble with a resolute, determined quality. Not one to share burdens, life is basically a long rough patch and there’s no way through it except to shoulder their way through. I’m all for hard work, as I understand it pays off eventually. Only, I never did much hard work myself. If it involves more than tossing bait into the water — preferably bait attached to a fishing pole — or if it involves more than wiggling my fingers at a keyboard, I’m not much interested in exploring the possibilities. However, in the case of an Aries? It looks like there’s a task at hand, which is going to require some effort. Stoic effort. Does it pay off? Sure, shortly.

Taurus: “Ichneumon flies” lay eggs and then, when the eggs hatch, the larvae eat the body of the host. Heard it on a nature channel or something. I was thinking about that, you know, eats the body of the host where they are hatched? Sounds like some folks you might encounter? Sounds a lot like some folks you might know? I’m not always a doom and gloom kind of a guy, but the “eating the host creature” part just struck me as amusing. Plus, putting it into human perspective, what with the way the Taurus planets are stacking up? Or the way the planets are affecting Taurus, to be more correct? Got some friends who are visiting? They seem to be like those flies? Gnawing away at your flesh? Might not be visitors, could be some other kind of person in your life, but I’m sure you’re going to rush out and check for insect infestation. You can get back to me, as the original way I was pitching this sounded kind of funny and innocuous. Regrettably, the planets, and the way other folks are treating you, that insect — the fly’s babies eating the host — that might it a little too close to home.

Gemini: I’ve got this one Gemini friend, and she’s tried just about every kind of alternative medicine that’s around. Hot stones were the rage for a little while. Then cold stones. Then just about every herb there is, made into a tea, compress, satchel tote, you name it, she tried herbs in the required 43 flavors. Acupressure, acupuncture, acu-astrology. Tried it all. There is a variety of massage schools and massage techniques, every one of those, too. Deep-tissue, anxiety, sports medicine, medical, pseudo-medical, all of it. In my mind, looking at what this one friend does? That Gemini? Looks like she’s constantly searching through all the levels of quackery, seeking a cure. Almost like she’s looking for a cure that might not be a legal, or a medically recognized cure. For a Gemini ailment that might not be a medically recognized ailment. I think the last round of “treatments” sounded, to me, suspiciously like “electro-shock-therapy.” Not something I’m up for, personally. But I’m not a Gemini, nor do always fathom the way the tiny, hidden corners of the Gemini mind work. I will suggest, from what I’ve seen, while it isn’t an answer to the question, somewhere, in all that alternative healing searching and seeking? There’s an answer. Of course, maybe just poking through all the ideas is part of what the Gemini should be doing. Perhaps the answer is searching for the answer.

Cancer: One of my neighbors was down at the dock, drinking an evening’s libation, probably having a smoke, just taking it easy, watching the sun go down, then the lights of downtown Austin, just east of here, glowing in the dusk. I wandered down, pole in hand, we exchanged a few greetings, then I proceeded to fish. One cast. Got a worm out there, sank it down, counted to 30 in my mind, listening to my neighbor, and then I started a really slow retrieve. I didn’t make it more than a few feet, when there was tentative nibble, then a little stronger bite. I hauled back on the pole, unsure of my luck. I then had a momentary struggle with a big fish. She was a good four pounds, maybe bigger, but I’m not one to brag. What’s with the story about fish and fishing? It’s simple, according to my neighbor, a fellow resident of Shady Acres, I’m this amazing fisherman who can land a monster size fish with just one cast from my fishing pole. Oh please. Even I don’t believe my own press that much. This is also how rumors get started. While I liked the tale, and I really liked having one witness that evening, I’m not sure I liked the way he was explaining it to everyone that I was a “one cast maniac, no really, I saw it — the fish was this big.” Stories get told. The fish gets bigger, the fish hit before I even let the bait land in the water, and so on. Now, I was telling the story honestly, but the folks on the sideline? They can stretch the truth a little. Might actually be in your Cancer’s self’s best interest, too. If there’s a myth-maker, why stop them?

Leo: There’s a structure in the heavens and this structure is reflected down here. “Here” can be a relative term to most folks, but I’m sure you’ll agree, as the Leo, that “here” applies to wherever you’re at. Now, about this structure? It’s a tough call because it’s a series of angles between planets, tension angles. In other words, folks are all at odds with you. In some cases, no matter where “here” is located, you’re going to feel like everyone is out to block your good, orderly forward direction. So that doesn’t work too well, not for the Leo. Supposedly, some wise person suggested that obstacles are nothing more than challenges that need to be addressed in a different matter. I’ve got it easy, when my obstacle (fish don’t like my bait) isn’t biting, I just try a different approach (change lures). The structure is presenting obstacles. How you tackle these problems is up to your Leo self, but a simple change is a good a idea, like, just try a different tactic. Something that floats isn’t working? Try something that sinks. Or maybe, if it the sinkers don’t work? Try a floater.

Virgo: The way I look at the symbolism for the signs, a Virgo is like a letter “M” with a little extra squiggle, down at the end, sort of crossing the last stroke of the letter. Likewise, the symbol for Scorpio is a letter “M” with an extra tale, sometimes with a arrowhead point, flipping upwards. There’s a detailed explanation available elsewhere, and in my lecture series, I explain to an adult audience the source of the symbolism. Catch me live sometime, and I’ll explain what it’s all about. What I was thinking about, though, for the next few days, the Sun is in Scorpio, and you’re a Virgo. The root of the symbol is the same, it’s that letter “M.” This is like, it’s not exactly, but it’s like what a birthday time should be like. The parties should be ongoing. The problem is that not every other sign is feeling the same way. It’s good for you, but not everyone else.

Libra: I never thought about writing, as a profession, as performance art. Performance art reminds me of my Sister’s body of work, as an example. Performance art involves getting up on a stage, in front of an audience, some place where there are viewers, folks watching what is happening, that’s performance art. I used to tutor in a “language lab,” and there was a great quote, hung with care, “Despite 2,500 years of research, no can determine exactly how a writer writes.” So, I was running a “kitty cam” for a while, from my computer’s desktop, and that cam would also include a bit of me, either tying a lure on, stripping line off a reel, or maybe just me crashed out on the couch. In other words, a writer at work. On these horoscopes. I can tell, from the server’s log files, that, at one point, at a couple of people logged in and watched me work. So writing, a very solitary occupation, for me, took on a shadow of performance art. What’s up with this — writing as performance art? Consider one of the many tasks ahead. Consider one of the many Libra tasks ahead. Supposedly, it’s a solitary job, a goal that you have to reach by yourself. Before the next few days are up, though, what’s gong to happen is that you’ll develop some followers. Or visitors. Or folks just watching you work. Me? Work fascinates me. I can watch it for hours.

Scorpio: I was fishing the other evening, a cool, fall evening, not really nippy yet, just a late October — beginning of Scorpio time. I caught a fish, which, truth be told, really is the purported aim of fishing. Decent sized girl-Bass. Probably close to two feet, maybe a little under. In other words, a mature fish, as fish go. Got her up on the dock, snapped her picture, unhooked the hook from her lip, and slipped her back in the water. I’m used to the young bucks, the slightly smaller, less mature fishes. Release one of those, and they are off like a shot, diving for heavy cover and deeper water. This one I released? I was a little worried because I could see her, off on the lake’s surface, a single fin fluttering in the air, one gill pumping air, not water. Poor dear, I didn’t think I had her out of the water that long, bet she got mouthful of air. Seemed like she was in state of shock. She floated on her side for a few moments, one gill was obviously working water back into her system. That one fin waving at me? She was probably a Scorpio, “I’ll get you yet,” she was saying, waving good-bye. What’s with the fish histrionics? Worse yet, what’s with the Scorpio histrionics? I watched, concerned, and then, all of sudden, with a flip of her tiny tail, she disappeared. Yeah, that fish was putting on a show. I almost fell for it, starting to feel a little guilty. The trick almost worked. Careful, in the next few days, you don’t try a feint (or a faint) like that fish. Almost worked and did worked are two different scenarios.

Sagittarius: Merchant marine material. Ever hear of Plimsoll Line? That one caught me off-guard, it’s basically the load line of ship, dating back to some Englishman named, oddly enough, Plimsoll. There’s only so much freight that can be loaded onto a ship, and in the old days that was marked by the line. I’m sure the average Sagittarius has seen pictures of merchant watercraft with the line around it, right? (We know that there is really no such thing as an “average” Sagittarius, but work with us here, okay?) Maritime regulations didn’t really get their collective acts together until the last 100 years or so, and these days, apparently, most commercial ships have to have a load limit. Be nice if the Good Ship Sagittarius had a load limit, too. Regrettably, most of us don’t have a little, built-in line that indicates when we have exceeded our capacity. Problems? Yeah, like folks expect a little too much out of us. We’re riding a little low in the water, and that line? The Sagittarius Plimsoll Line? If there was one of those, then our collective bosses, employers, employees, contracts, contacts, and clients? They’d realize we were over our tonnage. Solutions? Maybe trying some kind of horizontal striping?

Capricorn: The morning is coming later and later in the day, and it’s not something I usually pay much attention to, but I was up really early the other morning. Combination of factors, work, coffee, the sunrise over the lake, all added up to me being up at an early hour. Unrealistically early hour, if you ask me. But it was getting kind of nice, hint that the day might be warm enough to warrant going for a swim, after the noon hour had occurred. I’m one of those fair-weather swimmers, not really willing to brave to the cold water of Barton Springs with the localized version of the polar bear club. Not under certain conditions. Are you willing to go for a dip in the cold water, my fine Capricorn friend? Could be refreshing, just not up to my normal fiery tastes and sentiments. But your might be different.

Aquarius: There’s a branch that hangs down over the dock, and that branch is right in the way of me getting a line right up the channel, right there. Know what I mean? A single tree branch prevents a perfect cast. I’m not too upset with that tree, me and the branch itself, though, we’ve had several tussles, and the branch, the twigs, they usually win, keeping whatever hook, line and sinker I was trying to arch around them. I got a plan, and now the leaves are starting to fall, my great plan was to cut that branch down. I tugged, I chopped at it with a pocketknife, I toyed with the limbs, leaves and twigs, and finally, the branch won. I gave up. All that effort, wasted? Not really, see, the branch now hangs out of my way. So my efforts didn’t result in what I expected, but I did get a solution to the problem. It’s all about expectations, like cutting down the limb, versus the results, got a clean alleyway for throwing a line. Who wins? At first, I was sure that the tree won that round (point, game, match). I’m not so sure, now. Likewise, just because you don’t succeed at what you think your Aquarius goal is, that doesn’t mean that you don’t get some results.

Pisces: Depends on how stubborn of a Pisces you are. “What depends on me being a stubborn Pisces? Besides, I’m not stubborn. Not at all.” And then we go around and around about you being stubborn, or not. Anyway, I don’t care. Some Pisces get very resolute in their Pisces convictions and nothing can budge those Pisces folks from their places. So it depends on how set in your ways, how comfortable you are with the relative discomfort floating around, due, no doubt, to the planets. All depends. Fluid, graceful, and easy-going Pisces folks, willing to change directions at the drop of hat? Those folks are going to do okay. The stubborn ones, not that you’re one of them, those folks are going to find themselves with a problem. Entrenched in your ways? Looking for relief? Try something different. Fly in the face of convention, fly in the face of the nay-sayers. You might not get anywhere at all, but the more fluid and easy-going you are this next week? The easier it is to change directions. Which you will, whether you want to or not.

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 KramerWetzel.com.

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