Fishing Guide to the Stars
by Kramer Wetzel
(c) 2005, 2006by Kramer Wetzel for astrofish.net
For the Week starting: 8.3.2006
“Pray you, no more of this; ’tis like the howling of Irish wolves against the moon.”
Shakespeare’s “As You Like It” [V.ii.103]
Saturn and the sun hisself align, briefly, in this next week, plus that alignment is highlighted by a full moon, opposite the alignment. Adds a little Saturn-kick to the week’s flavor.
Aries: I was answering a question from a loyal Aries reader. “So if Mars is in Virgo, then Mars is in my 6th house, right?” Right and wrong. Right, as in, if that person was an Aries rising, then Mars would be in the 6th House, but I know that one chart, and that puts Mars in her 10th House. “Solar 6th,” was my facile answer. And this is where an astrology consultant, one who uses charts and houses and such, earns his bread, because the relative positions have to be explained, dissected, instructed, and reassembled to make sense in plain English. Simple. Straightforward. But, despite my abilities, I didn’t expect the next question, “So does this astrology house make my butt look big?” I’m obviously the wrong guy to ask, and as a male, I have yet to find the right answer to that kind of question, although, “Where would you like me to take you for dinner tonight?” comes to mind. And it really doesn’t mean a whole lot to admit that Mars might not even be in your 6th House. Or even the neighbor’s house, I mean, does the house thing matter? Yes and no. Mars is a player, and he’s playing now. He’s coming at you with his energy, and it’s a little sideways, for lack of a better word. So do like I do, with a little bit of verbal foreplay, a little song and a little dance, something to distract. You’ll find that nice and even riposte is far more useful when dealing with the house issue. Or the butt issue. Or some combination of both.
Taurus: I was dining with a delicate flower of a Taurus. Gentle lass, not really from around here. Besides, I was in a small town in South Texas, at the moment our conversation and meal was taking place. She glanced through the menu, ordered something like scrambled eggs, and the eggs were delivered, scrambled, with a dose of chili peppers mixed in, for good measure. She ate around the peppers, separating out the hot, green chopped Jalapenos, carefully avoiding them. “It just seems,” she sighed, pushing food around on her plate, “that everything seems to have chili peppers in it.” We were in South Texas. The town’s name is Spanish. The county it’s in is named for the original holder of a Spanish Land Grant. For hundreds of years, the economic mainstay was ranching — cattle. Despite the summer’s heat, most of the males around us were wearing cowboy boots. Yes, everything has chili peppers in it. “That which burns the lips frees the mind,” I suggested. At the risk of sounding cliché, I couldn’t help but think, “This isn’t Kansas,” but I didn’t say it. Location and environmental vagaries vary, but wherever you are? I suggest you get used to it. It’s not like “back home.” Unless it is, as in my case, home. Enjoy the subtle nuances. Explore the fact that there’s ketchup, Tabasco, plus two other types of hot sauce in a bottle, and then there’s the fresh salsa, too, just as part of the standard table decorations. Besides, just because the food is served with an abundance of chili peppers, that doesn’t mean you have to eat them. Like my Taurus friend. But those peppers do impart a wonderful flavor, even if you don’t actually consume the hot little green things.
Gemini: It’s been a long time since I’ve surfed in an ocean. I’m too old, too tired, and little too cautious to go out and frolic in the waves. But surf fishing and surfer boys share common ground, so to speak. Love of the water, respect for nature, appreciation of the earlier morning hours when the water’s just perfect, and other similar qualities. I was on the beach, watching some surfers head back in, down on the Texas coast, and I had an idea. Most of the hardcore surfers had a leash attached to their boards. It’s long, plastic rope of some kind, goes to an ankle cuff of sorts. I suppose, the theory, and I’m not much up on this, is that when a surfer wipes out, he (she) doesn’t lose the board. Again, this is a guess on my part, as such items weren’t really in use last time I surfed. Yet, the idea is appealing, and the structure, the way the two items connect appealed to me, especially as a way to express this week’s Gemini planets. Imagine that you’re about to hit the water. Hit the waves. Something. Then, consider the leash. Most of the Gemini — okay, all of the Gemini I know — abhor the idea of leash. Can’t deal with restrictions and limits. But the surfboard leash? That’s different. That just keeps the Gemini from going under, losing the board, or just helps prevent separation. Plus, it’s only anchored to a single ankle, not like it constricts freedom of movement or anything. So before you hit the waves, the water, this week, consider something just like that surfer leash.
Cancer: Glow. Shimmer. Shine like a neon sign in front of an old, slippery dive bar, located on a desolate stretch of road halfway from here to there. Maybe there’s a letter burned out or broken out, but the sign promises good chicken-fried steak and a plethora of cold beverages, name your poison. You’re like that beacon of light, a single sign that is such a welcome sight. The other travelers on the road? The other signs? They’ve all been waiting, anticipating, just such a stop, for at least the last five or ten miles. It’s a lonely stretch of highway, and suddenly, Café Cancer with its neon signage, you’re in sight. And you’re a welcome sight. Imagine that it’s a place that looks inviting by not looking inviting. There’s not too many trucks in the parking lot. Imagine it’s the kind of place where there should be sawdust on the floor, although, these days, that’s largely hypothetical. Got the image? Good. The most important part of the scene? That neon sign. That’s what Cancer does in the next few days, you’re shining. Maybe you buzz a little, perhaps the neon is faded, or there’s one letter that doesn’t even glow, but over all/ You’re a welcome sight. Be the gracious host.
Leo: Ever have one of those imaginary conversations in your head? One of those times when you’re thinking about what you want to say to someone? Or when you’re thinking about what you should’ve said? I’m also talking about a conversation in your head, not a real one. Not a real conversation, I’m sure your head is real. Saturn, and the Sun, those two line up and then the moon fills out, triggering your happy Leo self. Only, I’m not sure that this is a happy trigger. As I was looking at the Leo chart, I was having a conversation with a mythical Leo in my head, imagining what I was going to say, the accolades, the good news, the promise of rewards, and all of that fluff. The problems I’ve encountered, no matter how hard I rehearse those lines, the expressions, the way I want to pitch something? No matter how much I think about it, the rehearsal is all for naught. Never seems to play out the way we plan it. I can’t stop the conversation in your “mighty fine” Leo brain case. But I can warn you, it doesn’t usually come out the way you planned. There are times when just being quiet works best.
Virgo: The other afternoon, I saw a sign in a cigar shop, “We do not sell to minors under 18 years of age.” I was rather amused. I’d expect ‘we don’t sell to minor’ or ‘we don’t sell to anyone under 18 years old,’ but I didn’t expect that kind of grammatical obfuscation — in the name of legal clarity. I’m not sure if it’s Mr. Mars, the Moon’s relative phase, or just odd bits of pea gravel in the sky, but something’s gotten under the Virgo’s collar. It’s one reason why I rarely, if at all, wear collared shirts in the summer months. I’m trying to avoid a heat rash, like, something in the detergent or something, that gets me where the collar rubs my neck, and then I get an itch. In fact, I spend as much time as possible without a shirt on. One of my neighbors, more than one, as a matter of fact, have observed that I don’t seem to wear a shirt at all. I’ve heard this observation before, “I didn’t know Kramer even owned shirt for the first six months.” Just the way I am. I’m not sure you can go shirtless, I think the environment plus societal conventions might be a limiting factor, but consider the second part of the options, some outfit without a collar. See: Mars heats things up. Doesn’t matter where you are, he’s going to apply some pressure. In order to beat the heat, and the heat rash, an open neck outfit will help. Don’t let Mars get you too hot.
Libra: I had a little streak of bad luck, not long ago. I was thinking about this, it was just a cyclical trend, while I was popping through your astrology chart. My concern, your concern, is about becoming too insular. Too insulated from the real world. Too out of touch. Losing track of the human element. I was wondering if writing about people removed me from really being around people. Sequestered, in a tiny trailer, in South Austin, along the shores of the river, just me and an old cat, and she’s not much on companionship in the summer time. Too hot for her fur coat. But then I wandered off into the afternoon, to swim and hike, run by the post office, the usual. I ran into someone I know on the street. I saw an old friend in a bookstore. The help at several local businesses greeted me personally. Just a I was getting all worked up to feel sorry for myself, reality intervened. So, feeling a little down about something? Move your feet. Or otherwise. Get into gear. Move. Get off your backside, get out on the street, get on down the road. Doesn’t have to be a big trip, could be an afternoon meander through the streets of where you live. Or wherever. It’s not big deal, but as you move around, you’ll find that you’re not so insular after all. Move it.
Scorpio: The Fates, as I understand the myth, spin the web of our lives. In some stories, it’s three sisters, in other mythos, or so I’ve been told, it’s a single grandmother figure, one to be revered and respected. With Fate’s fingers, the yarn of our lives is twisted into whatever the tapestry is supposed to be. Around here, Fate has a little sister named “conditions.” And the problem is? Condition is beyond control. She’s a wild child. Have to admit, you’ve heard about it, can’t blame Fate, “conditions beyond our control.” The Scorpio tapestry should be moving along rather smoothly, but all of a sudden, ‘Conditions beyond our control” pops up. That’s going to throw everything off. The gentle nature of Scorpio is going to have a weird event, a weird person, or even just a weird set of circumstances come along an upset the orderly flow. But wait, see, this little sister who’s out of control, upsetting the Scorpio whatever? It’s not all bad, as in, we’re back to the pantheon of mythology, and Fate actually controls “conditions.” So figure that this will work out, just not on your own timeline. Trust the stars, as eventually, you’re going to get what you want. Deserve. One, or maybe, both.
Sagittarius: I forget the name, but the term applies to a stupid song lyric that gets stuck in your head. Or maybe not a stupid song lyric, like maybe, the theme from a TV show, or some sitcom, or worse, some blindly ignorant advertising jingle. What was running through my mind, though was a simple lyric, and I’m sure I’m misquoting this, but “Work, work, work, all I ever do and the boss is a jerk…”
Capricorn: This is getting delicious for my fine Capricorn friends. That’s all I could do. I peeked at the chart for the next week, and I rubbed my hands in malicious glee, all for the Capricorn slice of the sky. There’s a little payback, a little bit of the old wheel in the sky finally turning in your favor, a bit of someone else who is getting fried, and it’s all you can do to help by appearing sorrowful. There’s a time fast approaching, and it’s getting here quicker than I thought. Or so it seems. Pick one satisfaction. This can vary from person to person, but pick just one. That’s the secret to success, in the coming few days. Just concentrate on that one item, action, endeavor that will bring satisfaction. Then concentrate on that one goal. I’m not suggesting anything that’s illegal, immoral, or otherwise outside the strict structure of normal life, but I am suggesting that there’s a chance to see some situation finally work in your favor. The problem being, selecting just one. There’s a myriad of choices, and what’s the one that you’re most interested in? Focus, dear Capricorn, pick just one pleasure. Then enjoy it to the max.
Aquarius: I’ve got a friend who works in this particular office, down in Houston. The guy she works for wears a dress (he’s a judge, it’s running gag about the working for the guy in the black dress). The judge’s favorite coffee mug is one that has a certain town’s name on it: a little town about halfway between Houston and Austin, actually. Nothing important about the town. But the mug, since it’s his favorite mug, it’s a big deal. One day, unbeknownst to her, my friend grabbed the judge’s mug, and she was having her morning coffee, at her desk, when the judicial assistant appeared, in quite a state of disarray, because the judge’s mug had disappeared. My friend just got up, emptied out her coffee, washed the mug and replaced it. Problem solved. Plus, she won’t be using that one mug anymore. In the scheme of things, in life in general, the mug you grab at the office isn’t, like, a really big deal. Not to some people. But to other folks, a seemingly insignificant action can have serious repercussions. The secret to this week’s success? How you deal with that upset, accused of being an upstart. Roll your Aquarius eyes, when their backs are turned, replaced the purloined and offending item, and promise, to yourself, never to do it again. I only hope that your problems are easy to fix as that one.
Pisces: I do get some weird questions. Got one the other afternoon, and I can’t go into the details, but what it amounted to was a question about how a certain relates back to a Pisces. The point of the problem, and the way the question was phrased, it all had to do with a relationship. How to make the Pisces better at understanding. How to make the Pisces understand a set of circumstances that led to a particular outcome, same circumstances, same outcome, every time. You’re going to want to fire off a similar question to me, but hold that thought. It’s Mars, these days, and he’s cooking with gas, over in Virgo. (Virgo = opposite gentle, sweet & kind Pisces) Let’s try and shake up this planet stuff, instead of trying to same action, over and over, and hoping that it will turn out different? Perhaps this Mars-infected time is a an ideal time to try some different action. Plot a new course, dear Pisces. It’s really not your style to stubbornly refuse to change.
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copyright (c) 2005, 2006 Kramer Wetzel, for astrofish.net
