Fishing Guide to the Stars
by Kramer Wetzel
(c) 2005, 2006
by Kramer Wetzel for astrofish.net
For the Week starting: 4.13.2006
“Foolish curs, that run winking into the mouth of a Russian bear and have their heads crushed like rotten apples!”
Shakespeare’s Henry V [III.vii.138-40]
Orleans, the character who was figuring that the plucky English didn’t have a chance. Just goes to show that one should never underestimate a ragged band of desperate men, especially if they have a charismatic leader like Prince Hal.
Mars is moving into Cancer this week.
Aries: A bad attitude is like a blown motor on the boat. You’re dead in the water until you fix it. I was thinking about that motor, just sputtering and then coming to a complete and full dead stop, becalmed in the middle of the Aries lake, and that bad attitude, and how the two seem to coincide. In the case of that motor? It wasn’t “blown,” as in, vital internal engine parts didn’t take it upon themselves to self-destruct. It was simply a clogged fuel line. No problem. Loosen a hose, lose a little gas overboard, blow out the line with a mighty puff, and then it’s all better. Fixing an Aries attitude might be a little more difficult, though, as there’s not a simple way to unhook an Aries fuel line and drain out the obstruction. The last of the Aries birthdays are wrapping up, and Mars is moving. The Mars thing can affect the attitude. Unhook your Aries self from whatever is causing the problem and let the fuel line drain. Might save you a heap of trouble later.
Taurus: Who ever heard of “guilty bystanders”? There’s the reverse of that phrase, but I never heard about bystanders who were guilty. Not that I would ever be a bystander in a situation where guilt might be assignable, not me. As I flipped through a series of charts for the Taurus week, I kept thinking about that phrase, “guilty bystander,” and I looked at it in reference to the way the planets are arranged for you. “Nope, not me,” replies the Taurus. I’m not saying that you did anything, or that you had a chance to do something and you neglected to take action, but at least once, maybe more than that, in this next week, like as not, you’re going to get that look on your face. Other people, other signs, they’re all, like as not, going to assume that you did something. Action. You did it. Or, you were just standing there, and someone handed you a piece of damning evidence, and suddenly you’re stuck holding the bag. The proverbial smoking gun. You can plead your case, but circumstantial evidence points to you, the guilty bystander. I’d do my best to look busy; usually works for me.
Gemini: I was on the trail, and I caught a whiff of it. Lavender in bloom. There’s bunch of it planted in various spots along the trails I use. There’s even a bush or tree (or whatever it is) growing here in Shady Acres. It’s a strong smell, too. Can’t escape it. It signals springtime, better than any other aroma. It also indicates a strong shift for the seasons. It’s getting hot. Or will be, soon enough. Looks like we’re getting ready for a scorcher of a summer. Which means it’s time to start worrying about certain details. Which is why you’re reading this. I would hope. You’re looking at a hot summer, or hot winter (Southern Hemisphere) and this either real, like here where I live, or it’s metaphorical, like where you live, if you don’t live here. Some aspect of your life is heating up. Or it will be soon enough. That bloom of lavender, that smell of spring on the air, wafting in towards Gemini? That’s your signal. As soon as you catch a whiff of something like that, you know that it’s getting better.
Cancer: Who ever heard of “Northern fried”? We’ve got “chicken-fried,” and we’ve got “Southern-fried,” so I had to stop and wonder, is there even such a thing as “Northern-fried”? Maybe they don’t have fryers in the North? Maybe the culture doesn’t allow for fried food? Maybe it’s something that just doesn’t cross some mythical barrier between here and there. Starting this weekend, Mars hits Cancer. “Fried,” be it Northern, Southern, Chicken, or otherwise, is an apt moniker for Cancer. Mars does that. Mars is like hot grease, and that hot grease can render an object — or food item — in about 30 seconds. The point is about timing and Mars, and that hot grease of Mars. So far, Mars hasn’t gotten very far, but he’s like a very hot substance, and he has to be handled correctly. A good batter, a quick hand, and an eye on the batter as it turns a golden brown? Time to pull it out of the fryer. Deal with the Mars metaphor how you want, but it’s like that hot grease. It can turn something into a delicious repast, if you’re good — and more important — careful.
Leo: “Oh no, this is the “Panchito” section. Selena is over there, and Elvis is usually on the patio.” I’d asked the waiter why none of the tortillas had a Virgin Mary, or similar icon emblazoned on them. Personally, it’s a get-rich-quick scam I’m hoping to pull off, find a tortilla with the face of some religious icon, or maybe an Elvis, on it. Sell out. Would I sell out? Would you sell out, my fine Leo friend? Of course you would. It’s almost a stupid question. Almost, but not quite. The problem is, during this next week, you’re sitting in the wrong section of the Tex-Mex restaurant of life. There is a good side to the story, I mean the food’s great. Your hunger will be satisfied, provided you can be satiated with cheap Tex-Mex cuisine that’s not so much high-quality as it plentiful. The problem is that you’re still stuck with paying for the meal at the end of the experience. No Virgin Mary, Hay-soos, or better yet, no Virgen de Guadalupe in the tortillas. No get rich quick scam for the Leo section of the sky. Some days, you’re just sitting in the wrong section. I feel your pain. No, really I do. Happened to me, too.
Virgo: I was looking at an e-mail from a local fishing buddy, the closing quote, where I usually stick a random Shakespeare quote? It read like the guy’s resume: “EMT, fire-fighter, Haz-Mat tech, Bass fisherman.” I think he should include, “not necessarily in that order” as an appendage to his appendage. What got to me was the “Haz-Mat tech” and “Bass fisherman” next to each other. Worrisome, in a way. Sometimes, it’s not the content of the message, but like poetry, it’s the stuff that you stick next to each other. What would’ve scared me worse if the guy considered the Haz-Mat handling and fish-handling as the same type of endeavor. When I first read the signature, that’s the way I understood it. I’ve fished enough “power plant cooling ponds” to be aware that some of the fish might not be the most healthy critter out there, but I’ve never really considered any of them hazardous material. Until that Virgo sig file. Stop. Slow down. A couple of items run together in your world. Like the end of that e-mail, its signature. Parse the material before you jump to any hasty conclusions. Particularly now. It could be hazardous to jump to a fast conclusion.
Libra: We were in a slightly off-beat, sort of a dive kind of a place. Order at the counter, and when the grub’s ready, they call out your name. We placed an order, got situated, and the discussion, as it frequently does, reverted back to some arcane astrological point I was making. Happens that way. I was belaboring a point to a darling Libra lass, and she wasn’t getting my point. The loudspeaker comes on, “Tex, your order is ready.” Three guys all got up and started towards the counter. Point and counter point? This was a local place, what did you expect? And contrary to world opinion, “Tex” is a proper name, and one that commands some respect. Since all those guys had the name of “Tex,” they were all big. Two cowboy hats. One with a belt that had his name on the back, “Tex.” Could’ve been a fist-fight, any where else in the world. These old boys just scratched their heads and tried to figure out what went to whom. I was watching Mars, on approach, and the Moon, receding. Sets you up for a similar situation. Perfect illustration for the Libra, mistakes, little ones, can be big trouble. Or, you can do like those three fellers did, scratch your heads and politely try and figure out what belongs to whom.
Scorpio: Typical April weather, I suppose, and it just worked as a way to explain the Scorpio chart. One day, clear, cloudless spring afternoon, thermometer inching up to a real scorcher. Hot, even. A dip in the creek to cool myself off, fishing at dusk with nothing on but a pair of shorts and some insect repellent. In other words, the good life. The spring air was thick with insects buzzing, fish cavorting and taunting me, and the birds and the bees just a-buzzing everywhere. Early bloomers and late bloomers, coinciding, a single “house for rent” sign, just a typical day in paradise. The next morning? Just like Scorpio, just when you thought it was spring, for sure, there’s a cool front that blows through. It’s not bad, as it drops the searing and soaring temperatures, and suddenly, well, it’s still springtime, and it’s still nice out, but that cool front is going to linger for a day or two. You can still say “good bye” to winter blues (or summer blues, if you’re in the Southern Hemisphere), and this little cloud cover? Look: clouds are a fishing person’s friend. The fish seems to be more active. That’s good. So the cool front that waffles its way through Scorpio? Worried about it? It might be just the ticket that you’re looking for.
Sagittarius: There’s a guy who makes coffee at a place around the corner from me. Barista, that’s what they’re called, right? He’s a mighty Sagittarius. Much fun, and I usually fawn over him a bit. Now, I’d had a series of interactions with various Sagittarius types, and while my attitude remained upbeat, I was noticing, under the last quarter moon, the Sagittarius types seemed a little restrained. Not that I would let that infect my attitude, I just noted it, correlated it to the moon’s phase and got on with my business. So I wandered up the Sagittarius barista dude, and the first thing he does is stop all business, make a proclamation that Sagittarius is the finest sign in the world, and he whipped out a free double shot of espresso for me. Individually, we’re not doing too badly, but collectively, we’re dealing with a number of disparate influences that might be a bit of a downer. Or might not. When you least expect it, a fellow Sagittarius is there to lift our spirits.
Capricorn: Post-spawn fun — yes — another fishing story. I’d watched, like having your own nature channel outside the back door, while group of black bass did the span thing. Female lays the eggs, they get fertilized, then the males guard the eggs and herd the hatchlings around for a few days. Then it was back to dinnertime for the fishes. I’d noticed that the two males, nice, healthy strapping young bucks, like I’d expect a Capricorn to be, were still hanging around where the nest had been. One morning last week, I set about trying to catch one of them. Took me three hours, maybe more. I’d try one bait, wouldn’t get their attention, or they’d sniff at it, and then avoid me. Eventually, it was a green worm that won their rapt attention, and the trick was not to put the bait in front of the fish, but off to the side. Really shallow, at the creek’s edge. Three hours of work for one halfway decent fish. But I was absorbed. That’s the trick, I mean, I seriously doubt that you’re going to be absorbed with a post-spawn bass buck that needs to be fed and photographed, but you’re going to find some task that needs doing. Might take a little longer than you plan, but it does happen. Eventually. My problem? After I caught one of the bucks, I spied their female, and if I could just catch her, too….
Aquarius: It’s that “inner voice” thing. Failure to heed what your instinctive intuition tells you? That can lead you astray. Now, let’s flip this advice around, and suggest that letting a little voice in your head tell you what to do? Some people would consider that madness. Or insanity. Or, at the very least, a situation that would suggest stronger psychotropic substances — better medicine. I can’t help you filter out what’s the good voice and what’s your desire overruling what you think is right. But there’s a hint in your chart, except for a select few, very few, the Aquarius insight and intuition is right on. Couldn’t be better. Looks like you’ll jump up and over a hurdle of some kind. Some aspect of the Aquarius life has been face to face with certain difficulties, and figuring out a way around the obstacle, maybe not through it, is the solution. I can’t figure what’s the good voice from the bad voice. Seems like both voices tell me I should be fishing, not typing. As I was casting s line in the lake, though, I realized the solution to the Aquarius conundrum: a simple, Zen-like expression. “Chop wood, carry water.” A little physical action, some type of vchore that has nothing to do with the problem and its solution? That will help buy a little time to sort out the right answer.
Pisces: Over the years, I’ve developed a slightly disheveled appearance. Casual to some, relaxed to others, friendly and approachable, according to more than one person. Occasionally, too, I’ve been told that I look like a scruffy homeless person. At least one female (not a Pisces) has suggested that I look like a dried up old piece of shoe leather that’s been sitting in the sun for years. It’s rapidly become an assumed fact that I under-dress for the sake of disarming. Truthfully, I’m rather careful about clothing choices. Comfort, maneuverability, water factors, amount of pocket space, it all plays into the “advanced” casual look. So what got me, now that I’ve thoroughly described a picture where I look kind of shabby — in a comfortable way — is where I ran into the most bizarre question. It was in a club, probably in downtown Austin, and probably at the tail end of the South By So What (sxsw) deal going on last month. “Hey, I know you,” was the entry to the discussion, a comment I hear frequently, “you work at Nordstrom’s.” Which just caused a little mental burp for me. There I was, advanced casual, rather shabby, if I recall, and this person was sure I worked at Nordy’s. Not a chance. I mean, there was a chance, but with long locks and sandals, I don’t think I presented that Nordstrom’s image. Could be me, could be the way I interpret it, but my last buying expedition to a Nordy’s was years ago, and I decided that it was a bit too pricey for me. But a clean, well-lit place, for sure. That kind of mental interruption, that sort of comment, which doesn’t logically follow, at least, not according to our Pisces’ way of seeing the world? You’re going to hit one of those this weekend, probably. Ride the wave, to mix metaphors, or just take in stride. It’s not bad, now that you’re prepared for the interruption caused by Venus lining up with Uranus.
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copyright (c) 2005, 2006 Kramer Wetzel, for astrofish.net
