Fishing Guide to the Stars
by Kramer Wetzel
(c) 2005, 2006 by Kramer Wetzel for astrofish.net
For the Week starting: 7.6.2006
“The tartness of his face sours ripe grapes.”
Shakespeare’s Coriolanus [V.iv.17]
In this next week, Mercury is slipping back into Cancer, and Jupiter is starting to turn around from his apparent retrograde motion.
Aries: Mercury is making little ripple effects, and that Mercury Backwash is upsetting a lot of what’s happening in Aries. Communications usually suffer, but it seems like this time, it’s making those communications suffer even worse. I ran into one Aries the other week, and she was without a voice. She’d gone mute, due to a virus, or over-exuberance at some function, I’m not sure which, because, true to form, she was unable to do much more than croak a “hello.” Me? I can easily chalk that up to Mercury, and me? I know that the influence will be over in few weeks. Plus, me? I’d take heed of the inability to talk and realize, as long as Mr. Mercury is backwards, maybe a little less conversation wouldn’t hurt.
Taurus: I was clipping a hook off of a lure (to make an earring, if you really have to know), and the hook, it wasn’t very big, went flying someplace. It landed well-within the confines of the tin trailer space, of that I was sure. The hook probably bounced off the ceiling, then behind the cabinet, then the hook alighted in some of other location. I found it, as one might expect, with the bottom of my left foot, a couple of days later. I don’t know how, but the hook had bounced to an ultimate resting place, just in front of the stove. That’s a long way, with many unexplained ricochets along the route. When I felt that piece of metal underfoot? I was careful. Didn’t break the thick skin. But I’m particularly sensitive to just such items. Besides, Mercury? Yeah, that little one. He moves backwards from Leo to Cancer. And he’s like that that little treble hook, nothing but trouble, three-fold. Like my discovery of the ultimate resting place, though, and the way I made the discovery, in a relative painless fashion, no blood, Mercury can be kind to you, despite its errant ways. The trick? Remember to tread lightly.
Gemini: Just in time for Mercury retrograde? Here’s Ms. Venus, the lovely and mellifluous planet, making all nice-like in your sign. If I were more Gemini-like, I’d be a tad bit paranoid, “The planet’s are just out to get me.” But I’m not Gemini enough to really believe that. Derailing that paranoid thought train? That doesn’t stop the planets from serving you a very mixed-bag of goodness and frustration, at the same time. I’ve discussed BBQ before, but since I was working on this scope on a Tuesday, that was a type of food that was very much in the forefront of my mind. I’d bragged, not without substance, that on any given Tuesday, I’ve found either the pork ribs or the brisket to be absolutely wonderful. But it’s a gamble as to which will win. I met a fairly devout Jewish client there, and the client had heard about the pork ribs and brisket. Only, on that afternoon? It was the pork ribs that were so good. Which, in case the point is missed, is off the diet for my client. Gemini, too. Way it goes, with Mercury, Venus and Gemini. Condolences? “Should’ve been here last week.”
Cancer: I exposed a friend of mine to some “modern art,” as in works by the unorthodox painters from the last hundred years or thereabouts, and this had some interesting consequences. Eventually, in his house, he decided to paint one wall in the living room with a mural. It was loosely based on abstract art from maybe fifty years ago. Some of the original material might’ve been a little older than that — art history is not my particular area of expertise. I’m sort of a “dog playing poker on black velvet” kind of a guy these days. So what my fine Cancer buddy did? It was like a two stripes along one wall in his living room. Interesting. Just plain wall paint, not horribly expensive art supplies. They started low, the stripes, in one corner, and ran up to the other end. The problem? Made the room feel a little lopsided. Interesting effect. Cool visuals. Sort of. The problem? Tilted. And it while it pleased my Cancer friend, it was highly disconcerting to just about any visitor, and even my unrefined tastes? I found it a little off. Weird. Too weird. The good news? He could, at any time, just paint over those stripes, and the room would be normal again. Look: Mercury, backing down into your sign? Venus in Gemini, before your sign? I’d think twice before emulating modern master and adding some strange, abstract pattern to the walls. Or any other similar artistic decision.
Leo: I was working with a Leo doctoral candidate, and she was explaining, the “Hardest part of the advanced academic program? Parking.” When I was looking Mr. Mercury, the rest of planets, and thinking about the number one sign (Leo), that little message from the student quarters bounced back into to my mind. I thought it was pretty telling about the academic program that student is enrolled in, and the real world versus the make-believe world of the ivory towers. Nothing’s better than having a Leo cut right through all the hype and get to the heart of the matter in about 30 seconds. Or less. It’s also safe to make such an observation around me. I’m not on the committee who will decide the fate of the particular graduate student. I just read the charts. However, given where the planets are? I’d suggest that any Leo, especially The Leo, be little more careful about comments like that. While it’s meant in jest, if the wrong academic supervisor, or committee member, hears a little jest like that? That might indicate to them, to the non-Leo, that it’s time to load the Leo up with more work. I’m not saying don’t enjoy or employ humor, just be extra careful who hears it.
Virgo: The owner of a local coffee shop is particular hero of mine. She’s not afraid to wash dishes, bus tables, offer a friendly “how are chew,” and otherwise pitch in to help make the place run. While it’s nominally a socialist, anarchist, bohemian kind of a place, it’s also a carefully casual neighborhood hang out that runs well. No doubt, due to the Virgo bit in that owner’s chart, right? Makes sense to me. Part of what makes the place tick is that the owner is there, almost daily, at least, every time I’ve been there, morning, noon, night, and the owner is working. A little beehive of activity. Always with the rag, wiping off a table’s surface, or hauling a bus tub to the back. That kind of activity, while it’s not glamorous, that’s the secret to getting through this abhorrent shift in Mercury’s apparent direction. Instead of big tasks? Instead of the major items like saving the world? It’s just the little items. The little things that make up tiny pieces of the bigger picture. Perfect goals for a Virgo.
Libra: I was listening to an old song by a legendary Texas Panhandle singer/songwriter. I can cast my mind back and think about the land around Lubbock and Amarillo, and I can remember the aching beauty of a sky that stretches forever, a horizon that speaks of no limits, and the way the Llano Estacado, the Caprock, the canyons, arroyos and gullies, the look and feel, the seemingly endless plains. I can call all of that up, from distant memories. Seems like it was only last week. Makes it a lot easier to fit into the realm of that song, being able to address the place like that, from my own memories, some that feels so fresh, like it was only last week. The song, and that songwriter, the high and lonesome sound, the picked steel in the background, it all has more meaning, especially for me. It’s about place, a place that I know. I’ve been there. Perhaps your Libra self hasn’t spent any time in the Panhandle. Doesn’t matter. Might not be listening to a bard, either, lamenting loss and places that might — or might not — exist anymore. The Libra “mind’s eye,” though, is particularly powerful, between Mercury, the Sun, and Jupiter. When the song was over, actually it was a whole CD, I snapped out of the reverie. 44 minutes. Like me, for Libra, that means you can soak in memories for 44 minutes. Or even 47 minutes, but when the CD is over? Snap out of it.
Scorpio: I’d like to buy a little time, for my Scorpio buds. With Jupiter turning around, that bodes well for the Scorpio slice of the sky. However, and you knew there would be a hitch, Mercury and Saturn seem to be slowing matters down. So what I’d like to do is buy some time. Bide thy time, dear Scorpio. It’s happening. The problem is, with that “Jupiter effect,” you’re going to be ready to go. Now. Not next week, not the week after, now. Immediately. Sooner, if possible. Believe me, I understand what you’re talking about. “Now” isn’t soon enough. But I can’t make anything happen any faster, and the other planets are trying to slow matters down. An impatient Scorpio is not a pretty sight. And I can’t make the planets line up better for a couple of weeks. So all I’m suggesting is to bide your time a bit. For me? That means a nice, big fat pointless thriller of novel. Or some web surfing. Anything to occupy the mind for the time being. Just a little more time.
Sagittarius: I was looking at a fishing catalog the other afternoon. In it, there was this “thing,” a device for holding a spool of fishing line while winding fresh line onto a reel. Pretty simple piece of plastic, two U-shaped ends with a jointed spool holder in between. Simple device. Cost? Maybe fifteen or twenty bucks. I don’t recall. Actual cost? Maybe a dollar, possibly less. Not a very complicated item, just a couple of pieces of plastic. I’m sure there’s a fireman someplace, and he’s just sure that this is his ticket to fame and fortune. At least fortune, if not fame. Me? I couldn’t see parting with any money cash, hard-earned or otherwise, to get a spool holder. And at its price point? No way. I don’t have sales figures, so I have no idea whether or not this idea, this product, has ever caught on. Didn’t catch on with me, but I’m a notorious tightwad in certain areas. It took me all of about thirty seconds to assess the device, remark on its creative solution to a potential problem, and then pass on it. I do suppose, that for some folks, it would be a good idea. Now, as Mercury slips backwards and Jupiter starts forward, stop and think. In the future, you can come back and take another pass at the idea, but for now? I’d skip adding that item to the shopping cart.
Capricorn: Some will think I picked that opening quote just for them. Other Capricorn folks will be amused. Some will suggest I share whatever it is that I’m apparently smoking, as it’s clouded my judgment in opening quote picking. While my judgment is always suspect, here in the land of Capricorn, I’m thinking your decision making process might need a little adjustment. I’m trying to think of a nice way to say this, but I’d back up a little, like Mr. Mercury? He’s backing up now, too. But the grapes gave me an idea, sour or otherwise: wine. That might help with the problems in the decision process. I’m not what you call, a “drinking man” these days. I can’t advocate wine, fortified wine, or a similar malt beverage as a solution to a problem, and for me? What I would suggest is nice, tiny cup of espresso to give time to pause, think, assess, and then reassess the situation. The trick, and why I was thinking of a beverage laced with alcohol? It would slow down the brain from over-reacting, or acting too fast. There’s one friend I’ve got though, and when you mix him with alcoholic beverages, his “filter” gets turned off. It’s not a pretty sight. So if it inhibits the filter? Best off not doing it. But if it adds a buffer to the Capricorn mental filter, connected to the mouth (and keyboard)? Then try some. No sour grapes.
Aquarius: There is a pair of earring sitting on my desk. Next to the phone charger, matter of fact. These earrings were, at one time, fishing lures. Never saw lake water, either, came out of the package and the hooks were removed, and I added plain earring hangers to replace their barbed counterparts. When I wear earrings like this, folks wonder if there are real barbs on the hook. Ha-ha. As if. But you know that, and I know that, it doesn’t mean that everyone will appreciate our sense of culture, our fashion sense, or the way we can combine disparate elements to make (pretty) jewelry.
Pisces: I was rambling, on the inter-web thingy, at some point, and I happened across a page of vile rants. I approved, although, I didn’t care much for the rants, or the style, or the content. Not that it matters, either. I was moved, perhaps it was the artifice of the writer, perhaps it was the mangled syntax and faulty similes, who knows? However, in the conclusion, I found a tasty riposte: “If you disagree? Send me an e-mail. I just got a new keyboard and I need to break in the delete key.” I liked that. I wasn’t about to send any fan mail to that guy. And, oddly enough, it reminded me about my Pisces friends. No, I don’t mean that I’m deleting anyone, but you might. Or maybe, there’s an annoying situation, perhaps it’s a person? Or an e-mail? Or a deluge of misinformed inbound mail? Try the delete key. Easiest way in the world to avoid getting all twisted up inside, worried about something that really doesn’t require your Pisces attention.
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copyright (c) 2005, 2006 Kramer Wetzel, for astrofish.net
