Fishing Guide to the Stars
by Kramer Wetzel
(c) 2005, 2006 by Kramer Wetzel for astrofish.net
For the Week starting: 8.10.2006
“Keep thy friends/Under thy own life’s key.”
Shakespeare’s All’s Well That Ends Well [I.i70]
Saturn and the sun just got done lining up. Full moon is over, and it’s that little phase that comes right after a full moon.
Aries: August fishing, especially bass fishing, is pretty tough. It’s hot outside. Scorcher of a summer around here, or so it seems. In order to catch a decent bass, I have to land the right bait in front of a target, and I have to jiggle the bait in such a way as to appear enticing. The summer doldrums have a grip on the bass as much as they have grip on everything else. It takes a fair degree of finesse to do this right, three parts, really: right bait, right location, right action.
What it amounts to? Basically, I have to put food, or a food like substitute, right in front of the face of that fish. Right in front of the fish. I mean, it almost has to touch the fish. Tricky business. Tricky critters, them fishes. Life imitates fishing, too, especially now. Three steps to Aries fulfillment, got it? Right bait. Right in front of the target. Then, jiggle it ever so slightly to impart a little enticing action. Not too much movement, just a little. Jiggle the right item in the right place, and hope for the best.
Taurus: I couldn’t help but think about a recent interchange with a rather saucy waitress the other evening. Imagine a late summer’s eve, out on the patio of a place that serves decent BBQ. Imagine that I’m there with a client, and we’re discussing astrology matters around a plateful of ribs. A waitress of epic proportions and friendly demeanor is serving us, and I keep draining the ice tea, and she keeps merrily refilling it with one cutting comment after another. And I respond with saccharine kindness. Eventually, charm changes her attitude. But after sitting there for an hour, after paying the bill, I’m still being nice. “Why are you still being nice to me, you got what you wanted?” she asked. First off, a little kindness stretches a long way. Secondly, what I wanted was her to smile. Third, I kind of like her. Fourth, and don’t know, with the planets where they are? A little dose of kindness, even one that tastes like artificial sweetener? That goes a long way to making someone feel a little better. As opposed to bitter. That interchange, under the Texas stars at night? It actually served several purposes, and one of which was to illustrate a point to the client dining with me. No big deal.
Gemini: Consider that I’ve got a Gemini friend who’s a vegetarian. Where I’m from? This is not such an odd occurrence. But a Gemini vegetarian is a different animal. Plus, as a Gemini, the recent turn of events has left her a little morose. On top of that, she’s “sort of got a summer crud,” as in a mystery ailment that doesn’t seem to improve. Could be psychosomatic, or it could be an infection, or, in my world, I’m betting on the planets. She suggested we grab a bite together the other evening, and then she proceeded to order a plateful of smoked sausage. Elgin Hotlinks, if it really matters, from Southside Meat Market, in Elgin (TX). “I’ve been feeling so run down lately, I’m trying to add a little bit of meat to my diet, you know.” She had a further explanation, but I was polite enough to realize that this one vegetarian was changing her diet for health reasons. Besides, those hotlinks? Good stuff. Cure almost anything. With the planets, specifically, Saturn and the sun in Leo, as those two warm certain Gemini elements. The restorative and curative properties of mythological substances slow-roasted over mesquite coals? I’m not sure that it’s what you’re looking for, but something dramatically different? That’s a good idea, no matter where you are.
Cancer: My intentions were good, no really, they were. I was going to get up early, really early, grab a pole and hit the river for some morning fishing. What I intended to do. Early morning, first thing, Must’ve been close to noon when I finally crawled out of bed. Not an auspicious start. Best of intentions, gone awry. Foiled before I ever got out of bed. It’s a gravity item, see, no, really, it’s gravity. Kept me from stirring forth from under the covers. The little AC unit was droning, probably dripping water outside the trailer’s window, I had my arms around a pillow, a make-believe girlfriend, and I was cozy. For some reason, I just couldn’t pull myself out of bed. Not like I had any pressing appointments, it was just one of those July mornings when I couldn’t be bothered. Up to three days after a full moon is an excellent time to fish, supposedly. I was ready, the night before, it’s just when the time came to put the feet to the ground and really do it? Inertia moved against me. Personally, I’m blaming gravity. Best of intentions, here in Cancer land, but the recent “trigger point” with Saturn, Sun, and then the moon? It’s like that gravity complaint I’ve got. Can’t seem to get moving. Doesn’t much matter what you’re fishing for, either, you’ve got a window, if, unlike me, you can get up and hustle.
Leo: I think I’m onto something here, what with Saturn in Leo and so forth. I’m. Onto. Something. Here. It has to do with delivery. Punctuation. Plus, that little problem that the right people don’t seem to be listening to the sage Leo words. I’ve got a suggestion, something to help. Keep it short. Better yet, really slow it down so you don’t have to repeat yourself more than once. Or, like this: “Slow. It. Down.” Plus keep it brief. Nothing’s better than a little Leo with a short comment. Or a short Leo with a little comment, but either way, the message is the same. Slow it down, and only repeat the statement once. If someone isn’t paying attention? Don’t try and belabor the point more than twice. They’ll come back around, later, when all of sudden, your magnificent Leo self is recognized for your (native Leo) genius.
Virgo: August Virgo birthdays? Right around the corner. That’s good news. “Yeah, and every time you start that ‘good news, bad news” game, you have nothing nice to say to a good Virgo like me.” Stop whining. By the end of the week, through the weekend and onto next week, a couple of little planets all crawl into Leo. The sign in front of Virgo. Means there’s a pile of planets headed your way. All that’s sitting on you, though, biggest problem? Mars. Mars means activity and all the planets in Leo mean time alone. Best course of action? Grab a fishing pole and head to nearest body of water. Careful, though, as those hooks are sharp, or they should be, and the fish aren’t exactly cooperative. Doesn’t mean you won’t be getting some fish, but I’d take it easy, you know? The biggest problem? This is a solitary time. A time to relax. A time to take it easy and not worry about other people. To be sure, it would be nice to take friends and have a party while fishing, but we’re not always available. So hit the lake, the pond, the creek, whatever it is that you like, and consider a good time to rest and repair your poor, much picked-upon Virgo psyche. Better? Yes, it will get better, and like I said before, birthdays are around the corner. You can look forward to that.
Libra: I tend to work in order, like start at Pisces and work backwards through the signs until I arrive, finished, at Aries. Or start a Aries, and work forwards until I arrive at Pisces, finished. But each sign is usually individual, not quite the same, and each entry takes some special twiddling in order to tweak out the true meaning, flavor, and hints for a the coming few days. I got to Libra, looked at the chart, and skipped it. I moved on, I came back to Libra, looked at the chart, looked at a fishing pole, looked at a stack of inbound mail, and again, Libra’s scope for this got shuffled off. There was something in the wheel, the chart for Libra, that I saw, but I couldn’t hang an idea on it, I couldn’t wrap a coherent thought around the planetary presence. It’s more about a lack of presence than any kind of presence. That’s the problem. What I kept doing was looking for a hard symbol to hang onto, and there was none. Which is the point. A number of items seem to be flying by. I wouldn’t worry about them. You’re not the center of attention this week, and that’s going to be okay.
Scorpio: “Kramer Wetzel! I never said that!” It was my own sweet Ma Wetzel, making a claim that I was putting words in her mouth. Which, actually, isn’t true. I have witnesses. Not that my family members would be exactly what I would call reliable witnesses, nor, for that matter, are they willing to stand by me all the time, blood isn’t always stronger than ink. What’s happening is that the planets are leaning on you in way that your Scorpio self might not be liking too much. You might be inclined to make an outlandish claim with no way of backing it up. Or it might be a claim that is either rhetorical or merely for a dramatic effect. Now, in my example, I’m perfectly willing to use my family and my interactions to illustrate a point; although, it might mean that I’m in trouble again. I’m also pretty sure that you’re up against another one of those situations. Being right can be lonely. Or worse yet? It can arose the ire of someone close. I’ve discovered, not the easy way, that arguing with certain people is fruitless. Right or wrong? Doesn’t matter, I may be right, but I can’t win. Not that it’s going to stop me. Or a good Scorpio. Remember: I know you’re right.
Sagittarius: I was watching a pitcher warm up in the bullpen, before a ball game. It was minor league, of which there are many, and I don’t recall the team’s name. Something with a local flavor, I’m sure. To me, it seemed like a repeated exercise that would tire out the pitcher before the game ever started. Again, this is a sports metaphor that I don’t really get. But flip this idea around, and I’ve been known to stand at the edge of the lake and cast repeatedly into the same spot with the same bait, with almost no hope of success, just for the practice. Warming up, as it were. Getting ready. So the bullpen, or the lake’s edge, both places offer a spot for Sagittarius to warm-up, go through the drill, go through the motions. I tend to think in a more optimistic manner, since the lake I’m standing by? I have a better chance of catching something as compared to that pitcher in the bullpen. He’s not going to strike anyone out. I might catch fish while practicing. Never can tell. But the repeated motion, the act of doing some action over and over> It brings out the natural rhythm. Work on that. Practice is good, no matter what the sport.
Capricorn: I was at an outdoor even in July. The sun was low in the sky before the dust got stirred up, so it wasn’t too hot. I mean, it was well over 100 that afternoon, but as the sun set, as Mars came into sight against the sunset, it was okay. I was also noticing the crowd. July in Texas. “But Kramer, this is August!” Yes, and I was working on this scope in July, so get over it. In the crowd, there was teenage girl with heavy black eye make-up. Black tank top. Black bra. Pale skin. A “goth girl,” be my guess. Black jeans. Tagging along with older people who were, be my guess again, parents. Family event, out-of-doors, hot but cooling off as the sun begin to set. The child, despite the heavy make-up and black attire, had on pink flip-flops. Either she didn’t have appropriate black sandals, like I do, or maybe she only had those large, black boots, and those things would have been way to hot at that event. So it was little bit of discordant appearance. Only discordant if one was willing to take in the whole outfit, too. But as a statement, the outfit fell a little short of 100% effective. However, remember, it was July in Texas, in deference to the climatic conditions, it worked just fine. Some days are like that, too, as you think about wearing all-black to accurately reflect the Capricorn attitude, and you reach for pink slippers. Or thongs. Some days, you can get close, and it’ll work just fine.
Aquarius: Wandering downtown, I felt a few stray drops of water. I looked up. High rise window washer. Folks I big cities will laugh because it’s not like I live someplace with a lot of real high-rise buildings. By some standards, our buildings are more like “mid-rise.” Don’t scoff, way it is. Besides, the drops of water were real, and there, suspended above me, was a couple of guys on a plank, soaping then squeezing the water off the window. I might have never observed their actions if I hadn’t looked up at the drops of water. It’s simply a matter of looking up. There’s a whole world you’re not aware of, my dear Aquarius friend, and it’s floating above your head. Just look up. You’ll see an answer to a question, dangling off the building, or maybe just hanging there in space, if you’ll only look up.
Pisces: It all has to do with that ugly word “work.” I can’t fix that. I can fix your approach to the concept, though. I tend to regard fishing as work and everything else in life just goes to support fishing. Clients, billing, paperwork, writing these horoscopes, all goes to support my real work, again, which is fishing. Research. Development. Improving techniques. All about fishing. I was fishing the other afternoon, testing a new worm color. I was also answering a call on the cell phone, from a client. Returning a call. Nibble, then bite. Line goes taught. The fishing line, not the phone line. What’s up next? Set the cell phone down? Only it fell, slipped from my grasp. I was trying to handle two chores at one time. Not a good move. If I’d been paying attention to work, I’d have landed a decent fish and had a glowing report for the new color. Instead, I was stuck trying to fish a cell phone out of the river. Pisces: work? Avoid trying to do two things at once.
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copyright (c) 2005, 2006 Kramer Wetzel, for astrofish.net
