For the Week starting: 3.30.2006

Fishing Guide to the Stars
by Kramer Wetzel
(c) 2005, 2006 by Kramer Wetzel for
For the Week starting: 3.30.2006

“He is not the flower of courtesy…”
Shakespeare’s Romeo & Juliet [II.v.43]

Not that the Nurse’s comment about Romeo has ever been used about me, but I’d like it better if folks made an effort to pretty up their messages — the language, you know. Saturn starts to move forward in Leo this week, too. Around four degrees of Leo, not that it matters.

More travel info, and upcoming dates are here.

Aries: Happy birthday Aries! Maybe you’re not in this week’s birthday set, but if you’re Aries, then there’s no excuse not to eat cake. Or eat something. Give the guilt a rest. A number of folks seem not to be enjoying the springtime, and you’re not one of those folks. The little buds are budding, the little birds are chirping, and spring is sprung. More or less. Even if you don’t leave in the Northern Hemisphere (approximately 93% of the Aries reading this do live here), there’s still a spring to your step. And like a fresh wildflower that’s just popping up above the ground, you’ve got roots that are straining beneath you, searching for more nutriments. Fuel. You need fuel. Can’t have a spring in your step without some kind of fuel to burn, correct? So when the birthday cakes are circulating? Help yourself. Nothing’s better than a little guilt-free cake, and as far as I’m concerned, you deserve it.

Taurus: My travels and schedule frequently take me down through a portion of the Texas countryside that’s rich in history. South and a little east of Austin, there’s Gonzales and Goliad, and south and just a tad west? San Antonio de Bexar (yeah, the Alamo). I was looking through my pictures, and corroborating them with the various Texas history texts, and I came across that little segment wherein General Houston kept retreating. After the Alamo, before San Jacinto, General Houston kept falling back because the “retreat” lengthened his opponent’s supply line, and the retreat also shortened Houston’s supply line. Plus the rebel Texans swelled in numbers, the closer they got to “civilization.” What’s military history have to do with your planets? Sometimes, a little bit of backwards movement, buying a little time, sometimes, that’s a good idea. Give the troops a chance to rest up, get them fed. After all, a Taurus army marches on its stomach, and one must be properly supplied to face the ordeals of the day. There’s nothing wrong with a tactical retreat when it serves a purpose. Or, there’s nothing wrong with a retreat when it serves a tactical purpose. That’s what I’m saying about Taurus.

Gemini: One of my neighbors has a stealth truck. It’s an older model, pretty non-descript except for some air-horns mounted on the roof. I don’t think they even work, and I’d describe the two-tone color, but I’m not sure what it is. Rust is also a factor, and I think there’s a vise mounted to the bed of the truck. Just an average, older-than-some-girlfriends pick-up truck. I call it a stealth truck since, coming down the road, no one sees it. Other drivers fail to register anything about the truck, other than it’s occupying a certain place in traffic. Or, usually, parked outside a trailer in Shady Acres. The truck only moves, maybe, at the most, once or twice a week. The driver, my neighbor, is a lot like me in that he depends on others for a ride, or he bicycles, or he has a girlfriend who’ll pick up beer on her way over. Last time he was working on something under the hood, he was sitting IN the engine compartment. Older model, remember? Lots of room under the hood. As I was coming up from the bank of the creek, looking up, it appeared that the truck was eating my neighbor — whole. On level ground, and as he climbed out of the engine compartment, the world tilted back to normal. But it was either unsettling or amusing — depends on the mental state of the observer — and that’s how this week looks. Mars goes hand-in-hand with trucks. Stealth vehicles are good. If you don’t have one? Think about getting one. If you do have one? Think about routine maintenance. Or maybe, you need to get a little dirty and greasy, just to make the darn thing go again.

Cancer: Ever have one of those days when you’re feeling just fine, and someone points out that you’ve got toilet paper stuck to your shoe? Just after relaxing, just after getting any one of a number of little items in order, there’s always something. Like something stuck to the bottom of your shoes, and you never notice it. It’s not until some other person, obviously not a Cancer, points out the problem that there is a problem. Even then, this one of life’s little embarrassing moments. It’s not going to kill you — it’s not going to hurt. There’s just not an easy or graceful way out of the situation. But other than that? Who are we kidding? Life in Cancer-land is good. Maybe not great, maybe not wonderful all the time, but you should be, by your internal clock, feeling fine. I was sitting at the edge of the river, and neighbor walked by. She said, “Hello,” asked if the fish were biting, and she wandered off to walk her dog. I came back inside, did two phone readings, and I wandered back out into the spring night, pole in hand. Neighbor rolls around again, walking her dog, again, and she asks, “Kramer? Are you okay? Just checking to see if your alive, I mean, you haven’t moved in four hours.” I just cast a line back out, so, I had moved, worked, wrote a horoscope, and then gone back to feeding the fish. Like Cancer, I was happy — and productive. But like Cancer, folks don’t always see the way we feel.

Leo: I was listening to a buddy of mine, he was perusing the “library” I’ve got, and he had a great idea. “Man, what you ought to do? Come up with a ‘Leo kit,’ a selection of books for a Leo like me? Make me look good without having the read them all.” Packaged as a kit? Like, I suggested a list of books, but my Leo buddy was getting carried away, he wanted a book case, books in order, and everything with a little shorthand note so he could, at least, sound like he’d read the book. “Yeah, a perfect Leo kit!” I’m not agreeing with him. I offered to give him a list of books that would help, but my list sort of presupposed that he would be reading the books on the list. That’s also the problem with Leo now, there are no short cuts. Whether it’s a kit that comes shipped to your trailer’s front door, complete with a bookcase that has books, a fine literary collection, already installed, or if it’s another, similar kind of a deal? That’s the problem. It doesn’t come pre-rolled. Going to have to do some of the work your self. More than one literate Leo will be upset at the idea of a pre-formed library. Yeah, okay, darling Leo, then consider that “no assembly required, comes with batteries” promise? Might not be the case. Some effort is required.

Virgo: A buddy of mine was towing a boat down the street here. I mean, the boat, a good fishing boat, was in its trailer, and the trailer was behind my buddy’s truck. We were just getting back from an excellent and successful Saturday morning of fishing. We hit the traffic for some event that was going on, a parade, a street carnival, to be honest, neither of us knew what it was. Could’ve just been SXSW congestions, for all I know. We have a standing joke about “tuck and roll, buddy,” but this time, he was serious. If he had pulled into the trailer park, he’d never be able to get back out on Barton Springs Road, to hit the highway home. “Man, this baby takes both lanes, not chance, get ready for a rolling drop….” Tuck and roll? More like open the passenger door, amble back to the boat, grab my poles, and stop to look under the boat’s dash for some lure I’d left there. I tucked the poles under one arm, waved merrily, and I started off walking. Faster than the line of traffic. I was home, passed out like I usually do, long before my buddy ever hit the highway. Other than a 100 meter hike alongside stalled traffic, I had it easy. I felt some pain for my buddy. But not too much. However, I’m not the Virgo driver stuck in traffic, either. There’s a happy ending to the sad tale of being stuck in traffic: music. I’d left a CD behind and my buddy got to listen to some good tunes. Might not have managed to hear all the fun stuff if he hadn’t been stuck in that snarl.

Libra: Are you getting what you want? It’s that simple. Stop and ask yourself that question. In the next couple of days, it’s time to take a little assessment of your relationships. Not just some of them but all of them. Co-workers fall in this Libra spotlight. Romance, if it’s an issue, comes under the spotlight. Stop and think, analyze, take a few minutes to consider where you’ve been and what is currently unfolding. A few minutes’ consideration, just a little idle thought, that will help. For me, I was just watching a bobber in the creek. Had a worm on the end of the line. Tiny perch were nibbling the worm, and in a couple of tries, they got the worm and I got no fish. Why it’s called fishing, and why it’s not called catching. Can’t be lucky all the time. That’s also a time to stop and reflect. So even though it looks like you’re fishing, what you’re really doing is letting something turn over in the back of your mind. What you want, what you need? Consider how you’re doing. Next week? We’re going to have to concentrate on work, but this week? It’s all about the Libra interpersonal relationships.

Scorpio: I tried a joke last week, and it met with resounding failure. If you have to know the truth, and you’re a Scorpio, so you do have to know the truth, it was originally a golf joke. But as a golf joke, it made no sense to me. It was one of those comments that just didn’t sound funny. So I switched it to a fishing joke, and much hilarity was enjoyed by me and some friends. Only, a number of Scorpio folks wrote in and complained. Look: does it make any more sense as a golf joke? Who would prefer golf to fishing, anyway? Which made me think about your priorities — not my priorities — and that got me to thinking about what to say this week. It’s a matter of what’s most important to you, you, the Scorpio person. Not what’s secondary, not tertiary, but the primary important item on your list of “Scorpio things to do. Right now.” I was quizzing a Scorpio, about what was most important, and what I got was the “Well, sure, that’s number one.” The implied tone and body language suggested that maybe there was something that was more important, only the Scorpio wasn’t saying. I don’t have time — or patience — to figure it all out, and I’m not going to play games with a Scorpio. So maybe you’re not telling me what the big deal is, but whatever is really number one? That’s where you attention should be focused.

Sagittarius: I’ve traversed so many back roads, I can’t even tell you where I’ve been. I was chatting with a client about a particular town in West Texas, and I’m sure I’ve been through that little burg before. Think I even worked there once. But as we discussed highways and by-ways, I got to thinking about Mars versus Sagittarius, and the way the numbers were stacking up. I didn’t get a picture of this one sign, but now I wish I did. It was a road sign, “Dust storms next ten miles.” It was also one of those achingly beautiful clear days, not a cloud in the clear blue sky, a little cool, almost unseasonably so, and that sign, with picture perfect clear blue sky behind it? Would’ve made a good image. Mars is a like a dust storm, but our current Sagittarius weather? Clear, blue sky. Not a mote of dust anywhere to be found. Clear sailing, just miles of open road. Which beckons unto us travelers. Just as a word caution, though, as you knew I’d have to throw that in, there is a possibility of a dust storm. If that happens, if the sign is, indeed, true, then consider slowing down.

Capricorn: I was passing in front of the SRV statue, a local landmark, and it was one of those idyllic spring afternoons. A number of dog people were out with their dogs. Off in the distance, I could hear an owner hollering, begging, pleading for the dog to return. The dog in question? Sort of a light brown, half wolf-looking, half pure-bred mutt, was frozen. About three feet up a tree trunk, there was a very animated squirrel, the tail just twitching to a dance-beat rhythm. Agitated. Not pleased to have been chased up its tree by said dog. The dog had good hunting instincts. It wasn’t moving a muscle, all its attention was focused on the squirrel. The squirrel was not happy, but safely out of range from the dog. It was a stand-off, of the Mexican variety. I fumbled for a camera, as it was just too good of a shot to pass up, but by the time I got around to getting a picture, the owner showed up, the squirrel escaped upwards and the dog lost interest. Which one are you? The dog or the squirrel? Cornered? Or can’t jump high enough to get the to the target? Or worse yet, as you the owner who comes along and breaks up the merry fun? Hint: it’s an Aries thing, this kind of dilemma with three parts and almost no right answers.

Aquarius: Remember Valentine’s Day? The push-pull of delivering the appropriate card-gift-message? The guilt from failing to do so? The fact that VD occurs in the middle of Aquarius? I was thinking about the sentiment, the feelings that pre-packaged and delivered on that day, and what’s really supposed to go with those messages, what’s the true meaning? I was getting sad, maudlin thoughts about VD messages gone awry, the fact that so many of my lovely girlfriends seemed upset with the bulk mail stamp on the VD cards, and the way life goes at that time. But then, as I got to tweaking your Aquarius chart, I noticed a curious influence, a hint, an idea started to formulate in what-I’m-pleased-to-call my brain. Imagine that it’s like Valentine’s Day. Imagine that all the hearts and flowers (and stupid little cupids who do not look like Sagittarius despite the bow & arrow), just picture that all the good, gushy stuff supposedly reserved for February 14? Figure that you’ve got the ability to make all of that kind of material work. Work it. Work it well.

Pisces: A client gave me a little pyramid made out of cheap plastic, and in the tiny monolith, there’s a sample of some kind of special mineral, supposedly endowed with great “psychic” powers. Yeah, like I believe any of that. But the client’s a good friend, and there is a connection, if you line up her chart and my chart, it’s obvious that we have past lives, or some kind of a cosmic connection — call it what you want. I don’t need a plastic pyramid with a sample of metaphysical minerals in order to do forge a connection. However, when that client calls, I’m usually quizzed about the condition, location, and placement of the pyramid. Have I moved it? Is the mineral in the center? Did I shake it to activate the flow of the cosmic rays? For what I get paid? I’d be more than happy to put up with a large amount of nonsense. And while I might just be humoring a client, stop and consider — my actions mean something to the client. It’s like my lucky fishing hats, which, according to at least one of my fishing buddies, is a load of crap. “The hat doesn’t matter,” I’ll get lectured, “the damn fish don’t see your hat, much less ‘feel’ the hat you’re wearing.” But like that pyramid for the client? Like my lucky totem hats? Your lucky charm — whatever it is — this is important. Some folks will ridicule you for your lucky pyramid or hat, doesn’t matter. Stick with what works — even if your excellent Pisces methodology is held up for ridicule.

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copyright (c) 2005, 2006 Kramer Wetzel, for

About the author: Born and raised in a small town in East Texas, Kramer Wetzel spent years honing his craft in a trailer park in South Austin. He hates writing about himself in third person. More at

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