Fishing Guide to the Stars
by Kramer Wetzel
(c) 2005, 2006
by Kramer Wetzel for astrofish.net
For the Week starting: 5.18.2006
“Have you no wit, manner, nor honesty, but to gabble like tinkers at this time of the night?”
Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night (II.iii81-2)
It’s Mavolio, addressing Sir Toby and the Clown, and if I recall, he’s basically tell them to shut up. Perfect for the start of Gemini, Monday.
Aries: I have a love/hate relationship with my cell phone. Which is an odd name for it, because, like so many of the ubiquitous devices, it’s not actually “cellular,” but digital. I was on the south side of the hike and bike trail, between the pedestrian bridge and the First Street bridge, arguably, the most famous section of the trail, right where the SRV statue is. It was windy that afternoon. Strong, southerly breezes, 5 to 10 knots. Like I know what that means, but it sounds nautical. I was setting an appointment for a reading with a client. She couldn’t make out all of what I was saying, and it wasn’t because of the spotty coverage from the carrier, it was due to the stout breeze. Since I was walking, I just hopped up behind the statue itself, and that served as a good windbreak. Suddenly the conversation was clear and understandable. Mars (late degrees of Cancer) is like that breeze, sort of interferes with everything. Find a convenient shelter, a windbreak of some kind, and you’ll be able to communicate more effectively. The problem? Can only do one at a time. Can’t walk and talk, too much background noise. One action at a time.
Taurus: We were at a little Tex-Mex place around the corner from here. Sort of a nondescript place to eat, the usual fare, well, usually. I ordered typical stuff, but my date ordered safe and straightforward fajitas. “Hey,” she exclaimed, “you’ve got to try this.” It looked like typical fajita meat, but one bite? I speared it with my fork. That was some of the tasted like BBQ Brisket. Tasted like it was just in from a decent BBQ joint. I was amazed. Obviously, I ordered the wrong item that evening. But a I was back at the same place, a few days later, and the results were disappointingly familiar. The fajita meat was tough, stringy, and what I’d usually expect. (Good salsa mix — which they have — offsets that tough meat issue.) Could’ve been tender company. Could’ve been the cook for the evening. Could be any number of possibilities. But forever, I’ll associate that one place with the “fajitas that taste like really good brisket.” During this next little period of time, you’re going to make a similar association, and that’s a moniker, a nickname, a metaphor that will stick. Choose those words carefully.
Gemini: If you could live anywhere, where would you live? I’m suggesting a few moments to dream, a few moments to ponder an imponderable question. Me? I live in South Austin, in trailer park. By the river, just where I’d like to be. Don’t get me wrong, there are plenty of places I’d love to spend time, the lakes the ocean, the beach, the Left Coast, overseas, and so forth. Anyway, this isn’t about me, it’s about Gemini. Where would you live, if you could? In a few days, like next week, Gemini starts. It starts with Mr. Mercury and old Sol himself making nice with each other. But until the weekend is over, I’m suggesting you lay low for a little while. Regroup. Get it together. Rest up for the big month ahead. Slow down and dream a bit. Then, as next begins to unfold, whatever you were dreaming about? It has a way of beginning to materialize. But this is the important part, you’ve got to be clear about your direction before your birthday arrives. Just makes all the associated events better. And that’s my goal, make life in Gemini better.
Cancer: Old adage: “When in doubt, set the hook.” That was going through my mind when I was chasing after little panfish, just off the dock at Shady Acres. One of my neighbors wandered up, smoking a cigarette, enjoying the evening’s twilight, it was getting on towards “bat time.” This isn’t a tie-in to movies, serials, TV or comic books. It’s the time when bats come out for their nighttime hunting expeditions. So we standing there, me with a pole in my hand, and the little bobber was moving up and down. Nibbler. The nibbler took a bigger bite, and I yanked on the pole, as if it were a bass. Empty hook, sometimes the fish win, bobber and weight whip backwards through the air, and they miss my neighbor by a few feet. He backed up, a little spooked. WE continued out conversation, about this and that, but hew was a little leery of standing to close to me when I was fishing. He was afraid of that empty hook flying through the air. If I were him, I’d be afraid of a tiny panfish, flying through the air and smacking him. Mars is like me, giving too hard of a yank to set the hook. You’re experiencing situations where you’re inclined to use too much force to handle the problem. Or set the hook. I’m not worried about Cancers themselves, but I am, like my neighbor, worried about innocent bystanders.
Leo: I was chatting with an amicable young lady, working behind the counter at a “fast-food-establishment.” We discussed the healthier options from the menu items, and she went on to explain, that she was in school, and she aimed to be a doctor one day, so what people eat was important to her. I neglected to mention, that, based on her Leo birthday, she was looking at a long haul through the next couple of years of school. That easy, just afternoon classes on Tuesday and Thursday schedule she was looking forward to? That’s not going to be a happening thing for my dear Leo contingent. But you knew that. That schedule with all the professors who are easy to get along with? Again, not likely. I’m willing to be wrong about this, and I can hope that she’ll sail through, unscathed, unmarred, and not cynical at all, richer and wiser for her experience. She’d be a good doctor, as, at the time of our conversation, she still had a degree of compassion. I’ll also wager she hasn’t been fried by Mr. Saturn. My data about university degrees is dated, but there used to be one required class, and that one class was a deal-breaker. Or maker. Pass that one advanced chemistry class? It was all easy, from that time onward (“easy” being a relative term). Consider that Saturn and his influence, now going on, is like that one class. All you have to do is study hard. Maybe don’t spend so much time chatting with itinerant and errant astrologers, too.
Virgo: In my “kitchenette,” hanging from one high-up cabinet handle, there are a couple of leaders with various hooks and lures at one end, weights, sinkers, floats, and other fishing stuff at the other end. The best one has a dry fly at one end, and I’ll occasionally attach it to a heavier line and give the fly a good toss in the lake. Over time, I’ll weed through these leaders and salvage the gear, and put everything away because it’s a little ridiculous to have sharp hooks on one end and other items, snaps, swivels, lead weights, floats, all dangling in the kitchen. So it’s a periodic, or ongoing, cleaning process. What happens, on a spring night, like now, when the Sun’s in Taurus, I’ll hit on some sort of weird idea that might fool the finicky bass here. I’ll tie up some combination of flat-sinker-hook-lure-bait on a leader. I’ll think, I need to try this one, first thing in the morning.” Then, when I wake up, I look at Salt-Water bait tied on the end of a freshwater rig, and wonder what I was thinking. Doesn’t matter. Might work. Probably won’t, though. When I get about a half dozen of these rigs in my space? Time to sort through the strands, clean it up, look at the great ideas, and think, “What was I thinking?” Not all late-night “great ideas” work, and sometimes, perhaps a periodic cleaning? Sometimes, that’s a good idea. I had this one, though, and I’m sure this one’ll work…
Libra: “Must be great, a home office like yours,” a Libra was addressing me. Yeah, it’s great. I stagger out of bed, step over the cat’s most recent display of displeasure with our feeding arrangement, or a maybe she’s brought in a dead lizard, or worse, a critter than ain’t quite dead, and then I’m at work. Yes, this sure is the life. I can only hope that the dripping sarcasm doesn’t dampen your spirits. Consider the optimum arrangement, is it really all that good? For me, I may bitch about it, but I’ve got it pretty good, other than living in a place the size of small closet. For that matter, I’ve stayed in motels with bathrooms larger than my place. Not just larger than my bathroom, but a place motel’s bathroom had more square footage than I’ve got overall. Yet there’s something to be said for smaller, cheaper, more compact. There’s a lot less to clean. And that morning commute is pretty easy. I made some very careful choices when I moved to Shady Acres. Calculated to save on dollars and reduce overhead, plus, just how much space can one person really need? Think about the ideal “home office” arrangement, then think about just tucking the ole computer up in the corner of the bedroom. Maybe that’s not such a good idea. Just because an idea “looks good on paper,” sometimes, there’s a more far-ranging implication and I’d suggest a little thought before implementing the idea.
Scorpio: Ever commit to something, and then immediately regret it? I’d stopped at a favorite espresso stop downtown, one of many places to stop and get an afternoon libation. In the hot afternoon, a short shot of espresso just seemed right. I’d asked for a triple, because my Scorpio backside was dragging a little, on that fateful afternoon. “Here, I’ll just fill it up,” the kindly barista feller said, a Scorpio, I might add. As I stepped back out onto the sidewalk, I was thinking about a number of items. Like what to say for Scorpio. I took a sip of the espresso. My upper lips beaded up with sweat. “This can’t be good,” I thought, and took another sip. My brow beaded with sweat. I was in the shade of downtown, and there was a gentle May breeze, but still, I was starting to pant like a hound in heat. I took another sip. I looked up at the Capitol building, wondered if I could climb to the top — from the outside. By the time I finished that one cup of coffee, I’d modified my route, added an extra three miles — all up hill — plus I’d compiled a mental laundry list of items to do as soon as I got home. That’s what I mean about committing to something and then regretting it, I’d regret that one cup of super-strength (Scorpio) coffee. I think I jogged part of the way home. Careful about whatever you commit to.
Sagittarius: It was a hot, dry spring afternoon. After a quick swim, I’d wandered far a-field, and headed over to a place so I could grab a quick cup of coffee, just a little afternoon shot of espresso. It seemed like it was a little early in the spring to be so thirsty, but I also picked up a bottle of mineral water. It was a long, tall, thin, cool drink of water. With bubbles. The carbonization seems to cut through the dust that accumulated in my throat. I sucked down that water pretty fast, and sipped on my warm espresso as I wandered off into the afternoon. I didn’t pass a trash receptacle for a while, so I stuck the green bottle in my pocket, the long neck sticking out like a beacon. Or something. I did pass a cop car, and I was waiting on “the question,” since, to me anyway, it looked like I had a bottle of beer sticking out of my pocket. I was preparing a little speech in my mind, but the long-haired, casually-attired pedestrian that I was? I didn’t even get a second glance, near as I can tell. But I was ready, just in case. Eventually, that bottle made it all the way home, and it’s been turned into a bud-vase. Perfect. But that bottle could’ve gotten me questioned, and, of course, the label would reveal that there’s nothing wrong with what I was doing. It’s matter of being prepared. I had snappy yet polite rejoinders framed in my mind, just in case. Might want to be ready, as you’re never sure when you’ll be face-to-face with certain authority figures.
Capricorn: I was on the western edge of the hike and bike trail, south side of the lake, and I was headed back from downtown, going towards Barton Creek and the trailer park. The trail is elevated, the river’s bank is a few feet down, and the water was sluggish, with the clarity that comes from still water. I was looking for my friends, the fish. Approaching me on the trail, up in the distance? A female form of epic proportions, a long, blond ponytail, tight white tank top, skintight shorts that left absolutely nothing to the imagination. She was jogging. Her tan skin was a quite the contrast to the white top. Did I mention that it was a tight top? Left nothing to the imagination. I glanced over at the river, and there were fish. I could either leer, which was expected, judging from the look on her face, or I cold study the fish in the river, for location, type, possible feeding patterns. I’ve spent more than decade on this trail, so the Amazon-Goddess-like scenery is pretty commonplace. But the fish schooling along that sandy point? That was unusual. I paused mid-stride, and studied the fish. About three, that I could see, probably between two and three pounds, idling in the eddy. Look: what’s more important? Something you can see all day, any day, or what’s the true objective? Get your Capricorn mind out of the gutter. Mars forces a decision, and I’d like to suggest you stick to what’s really important.
Aquarius: Quite your complaining. It all has to do with emotions and how you choose to express those emotions. We’re back to the problem wherein the basic premise is that astrology — and by extension — astrology writers — claim that there’s a certain lack of affect in the Aquarius temperament. Which isn’t true. But, and I’m serious here, the way you choose to express yourself in this next few days is kind of important. Not kind of, it’s rather a big deal. Some folks don’t get it. I do, but I’m a bit odd in that I have genuine fondness for the Aquarius quirks. Dry wit is important, but you have to make sure that your target audience understands what you’re trying to convey. Therein is a problem. The sly, some what off-beat expressions, the dry commentary that’s meant as sarcasm, or as an underrated tone to the delivery? Might not be able to pull that off. Or, the intended target audience might not understand that you’re just being dry in your delivery. So consider the message and consider how you’re trying to deliver it. Then consider that some of this won’t get across.
Pisces: East of here, there’s an apartment complex with a pool. The complex isn’t gated, but the pool area is. Over the years, on my pedestrian explorations, I’ve discovered, on certain afternoons, a quick lap in some unnamed apartment complex’s pool is the perfect elixir. Just the proper way to cool off. Remember the old “credit card” trick to open doors? Rarely works in the real world. But a pocketknife, like I frequently carry, can be used to open those pesky gates that guard the pools. I wandered in, probably trespassing, but who’s counting? And I’d flipped open my knife, let myself in through the gate, emptied my pockets, gone for a quick lap and I noticed the manager’s door opening. I was getting ready to beat a hasty retreat, when I realized I knew this person approaching the gate. She let herself in with a key, “Hi Kramer, thought that was you,” and we proceeded to talk about Uranus, Jupiter, Mars, and the upcoming month of Gemini. Pisces. She’s a Pisces. (And probably doesn’t like being mentioned here.) But that’s what you can expect. She was all set to come out and harass some homeless looking guy, when, in fact, it was a highly paid (by her) professional, just loitering in the afternoon. Since I know her, it’s not like it was really trespassing, either. Right? I hope so. Those planet influences? That’s like what is probably going to happen. You’re all set, in your Pisces mind, to go and confront some derelict, or other kind of violator, only to find that it’s a familiar visage. Be prepared for uncommonly nice surprises. Still, best be prepared to call the cops if that person really is a trespasser. Unlike me.
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copyright (c) 2005, 2006 Kramer Wetzel, for astrofish.net
