Fishing Guide to the Stars
by Kramer Wetzel
(c) 2005, 2006 by Kramer Wetzel for astrofish.net
For the Week starting: 11.16.2006
“I like not fair terms and a villain’s mind.”
Shakespeare’s The Merchant of Venice [I.iii.176]
It’s a perfect Scorpio quote.
Aries: I was toying with the fish in the lake, the other afternoon. Calling “fishing,” might be a misnomer because I wasn’t that serious. Honestly, I was that serious, but I wasn’t going to get all worked up if the bigger fish weren’t interested in me or my bait. Cool fall afternoon when I walked outside, wearing only shorts and a flannel shirt (& barefoot), and I was looking for a spot in the sun. A winter’s cloud scurried in front of the sun occluding the warm rays of the sun. I was thinking about Aries, and I almost shivered. It wasn’t, like, really, not that cold, or anything, just cool. Just beyond the edge of my vision, I could see dark forms, down deep. I adjusted the fishing tackle, gave it a little more room for some added depth, and I tossed the line again. Look: it wasn’t a big fish, but it was a black bass, a sporting fish, and he did put up a decent little fight. For a morning’s adventure, it was well worth it. I wound up out there for more than an hour, think I had two fish to show for my efforts. Then it was back to keyboards and work. You’re allowed, like me, one hour off. Use that time wisely. After that, the Aries focus must remain centered on work. More productive work than me fishing. The bigger fish, the bigger deals? They are important, but the focus has to be on the smaller details in order to get to the bigger ones.
Taurus: After years and years of using particular term, “the rosy fingers of dawn,” I finally figured out where I lifted that expression from: Homer. In translation, natch. The expression crept into my day-to-day speech and written record, maybe ten years ago, while I was on my way to catch an early morning flight. Going away for business. It’s not like I travel far, I rarely leave Texas. Why do I rarely leave Texas? It suits my humor. So, a b risk fall morning, the first one, or so it seems, in a long time, and I watched out the trailer’s tiny kitchenette window as the dawn was breaking. Huge, colorful clouds, those “rosy fingers of dawn” were inching there way across the sky. East of me, I’m sure, someone was frying something to put in a breakfast taco. Hot tortillas on the griddle, in the warmer, a myriad of faces burned in the countenance of those tortillas. This morning’s reverie was rudely interrupted by a trash truck, the great clanging of a dumpster being hoisted overhead, the sound of a load of human detritus being emptied into the truck’s bed. The hiss of hydraulics, the container being slammed to the ground again. So much for the peace and quiet in Taurus land. Like that truck who offensively broke the calm? Get up early enough, and the rosy fingers of dawn will work like magic fingers and gently caress your soul. But shortly thereafter, it’s still Scorpio time, and the items that need to be attended to must be attended to. Like taking out the trash, now that the dumpster’s empty again.
Gemini: Everybody’s got a gimmick. Ever notice that? Seems like everything has some sort a personal spin on it. I can’t fix that, it’s not like I don’t have a personal spin here, either, but at least I’m open and honest about my preferences and affiliations. Plus, I’ve done a pretty good job of protecting myself through the dubious yet probably legal fine print. Terms of service and end user legal agreement. Some of which, I might add, was written by a lawyer. An expensive lawyer, at that. So everyone’s got a spin, and everyone’s got an angle, and everyone’s got your sweet Gemini self in the crosshairs of their sights. You’ve been acquired as a target. At least, that’s what it feels like, and once again, I can’t change that. There’s a shift going on, and next week, the sun moves in Sagittarius. When that occurs, you’re going to feel like someone finally summoned up some assistance for your over-wrought, over-worked self. Finally.
Cancer: When Mercury is retrograde, as it was, there’s a sense I’ve promoted in the past, an idea, a concept, a way of dealing with the problematic energy: duck. It’s an excellent maneuver for handling what the stars are throwing our way. This past few weeks has been punctuated with a little more than the usual amount of amusing errata, too, especially in the Cancer corner. “Amusing? It wasn’t funny when…” and then I receive a long, sad tale about missed connections and thwarted affections. Sometimes, it’s a safe way to avoid the problems. Sooner or later, however, those problems will catch up with us. Therein is the theme for the next few days. Just when you thought you were about to make it out of the Mercury menagerie unscathed, one last problem, a problem you followed my advice and ducked, that problem is back. Needs resolution. “But you told me to avoid it, and now I have to deal with an even bigger mess!” Stop. I’ve heard it all before. I seriously doubt you can come up with a more dire, more tragic, more comic, more comically tragic, more dramatically comic and tragic situation than what I’ve heard before. It’s not a challenge, either. What happens as a Mercury slows down, and what transpires is that the usual Cancer charm returns. That situation you ducked before? You can resolve it, with a degree of charm and efficiency that you didn’t enjoy in the previous week. Short. Sweet. Succinct.
Leo: I’ve been working on this horoscope for you for way too long. Every time I flipped your charts around, the Leo charts for the next couple of days, I had a sense of ennui. An elegiac tone of sadness. A weird kind of blues, maybe not really the blues, but a similar shade. Perhaps a good Leo can suggest a color? It’s about mounting frustrations. Better yet, it’s about surmounting frustrations. Instead of letting that frustrating problem, that single challenge in your personal life, instead of worrying with it, I know it can be a sad situation, but instead of frustrating your pretty little Leo brain with problem, and its ensuing sense of ennui, why not drop the problem the time being. Let it go. Just for now. Maybe not for forever, but for the time being? The planets shift, move, and march forward. Likewise, you should shift, march forward. Dragging a past problem into the present is a luxury you can’t afford. It’s old baggage, and by now, you should be at a point in your life where you don’t’ need nay more luggage. Especially if it’s luggage stuffed with old problems. Now, with that posited as a thesis, let’s take us a hypothetical, m’kay? I didn’t say drop the problem, but shift it to another place and move forward. Trudge forward, with what nobility you can conjure. We can del with that issue, later.
Virgo: I forget the situation, but I’d made a comment, “I wish I could get that on tape.” It was verbal statement of some kind, perhaps witty, perhaps laying bare an obvious truism, but the way the message was delivered was as important as what the message contained. Hence, my reference to an antiquated method of recording sounds. Terribly analog. Positively too ’90s, I’d say. Music is either digitally encoded on a CD or, in much of the more modern variations, sounds, music, just winds up as a computer file of some kind. MP3? Are those still around? Whatever the comment, I just thought the dry, verbal delivery, the audio file, would make a good commentary, and it would work on more than one level. Hence the idea of capturing it on tape. Only, these days? No one ever seems to capture anything on tape. Right? So figure that you’re coming up with just a truism, a smart-aleck kind of comment that’s witty and sharp-toothed, at the same time. Wish you’d caught it on tape? Isn’t that a little too old fashioned? Can’t you just capture the comment, the Virgo witticism, on a digital device? Consider that it’s time to move forward, under the strong Scorpio hangover medicine, and consider that analog is now a “has been” media.
Libra: I wandered past a local coffee house, stepped in, said hello to the barista, had a cup of coffee (shot of espresso, nicely hand-crafted), and continued on my way. A few minutes later, I was outside a place that serve icy, cream fruity confections. I ordered up a “horchata,” rice-milk drink, I’m guessing from Mexico, again, the real story is shrouded in myth. So I was sipping on a “horchata drink,” and I popped open the notebook computer, and I was able to steal a little bandwidth. It wasn’t the small place I was in, but a few doors down, there’s a big chain restaurant, and their wireless spread down to the smaller place. Instead of a big-meal deal and instead of a long wait for food, with free wireless as the menu item, what I opted for something (literally) a little closer to home. And what I got was a fine rice-drink, seasoned with cinnamon, cane sugars, and a hint of Mexican vanilla. Plus free wireless. It was an impromptu stop, not one on the intended route, but I found that I had everything I could want, a little net access, a sparkling (non-alcoholic) beverage, a quiet moment in an otherwise hectic afternoon. Best of all, though, was following the espresso with a rice (non-dairy) milk. Drink. Beverage. Sweet punctuation and where I least expected it, the bonus of the wireless access. From down the street. This is the picture for Libra, it’s all there, right under the Libra’s nose, if you look. Might not be in your real backyard, but figuratively, it’s in your backyard.
Scorpio: One of the most satisfying sounds, accompanied by a special aroma, for me, is fajitas — served hot in a frying pan. Caution: hot plate; don’t touch the skillet. When done right, what a real fajita is? It’s really tough, stringy skirt beef, fried until quite well-done, along with bell peppers and onions, then served, on that hot metal plate, and if it’s done to perfection? The serving person will squeeze fresh lemon, or more commonly lime, juice just at the table so that the flavor is sealed and fresh. That platter and stack of warm tortillas? It’s the good life. Fresh seasonings, like “pico”*, guacamole, and some shredded lettuce. Maybe some beans and rice, but that’s just for effect. I’ve been dining on fajita for a long, long time, from a time before it was a popular dish, up through its popularity, and I’m sure it will wane, but I’ll still probably be enjoying it. The trigger point, in astrology terms, is much like the sound and smell of those sizzling platters, I hear the meat frying, then the cloud of steam and grease comes along, and my mouth waters. There’s an astrology event occurring, and it’s like that platter of food, it evokes memories, reminders of times and places in the past, plus, for the present? There’s a hint that something good is about to happen. Should appear on your Scorpio table any minute now. But as a hint? When they say, “Hot plate”? What they mean is “do not touch,” and no, this isn’t a Scorpio challenge.
*Fresh Pico de Gallo is best when it’s nothing but diced tomatoes, diced onions, and some kind of finely chopped peppers, jalapeno or Serrano are best. Some places add lime juice, but not always. Sort of depends. I think of the best Pico as “Mexican
Sagittarius: Middle of a November afternoon, I wandered towards the shoreline, pole in hand. I flipped a worm out into the weeds, and I just sort of watched. A neighbor came by, stood at the top of the incline, me perched on a rock at the bottom, and we discussed important topics. Fish. Girls. Neighbors. Gossip. I turned to address the guy, and just as I did, there was a plaintive pull on the line. I went to set the hook, and I missed. Hook, line and sinker come flying through the air, landed in the water at my feet. “Missed one, huh?” No big deal, I put the line and worm right back out there, right back where it had been. And I waited. The neighbor wandered off to attend to his dog or something. A few minutes later, that fish was back nibbling on the bait. He got a could mouthful, and I was sure it was a targeted bass. Instead, what I pulled in was a Blue Gill. Perch. Call ’em what you want, but this one had some fight. Plus he was, well, a decent size for a perch, anyway. His side would flash in the water, a brilliant white belly, and he would struggle against my line. I pulled him in, admired him, then I cut the line and pulled the hook through, since it would cause less damage than trying to work it out. Another, painfully normal morning at home in Austin. While someone was watching, when I held an audience’s attention, no fish. When I was alone? Fish on. So it wasn’t a big fish, not by my standards, but it was a fish, and therefore, a successful morning. Only no audience. Consider that there’s no audience, and consider that you feel as if you’re working alone. Don’t let distractions slow you down, either.
Capricorn: Pink Floyd’s The Dark Side of the Moon. It’s considered a classic. As well it should be, as the music certainly captures a point in history and at the same transcends it’s era of creation. From the album’s songs, to the cover art work, hopefully, hundreds of years from now, this will be a piece that’s remembered. I was thinking about the original cover art work. Remember when “albums” were 12 inches square? That was canvas on which to work. The Dark Side of the Moon album cover, the original, was deceptively simple. It was prism, refracting light, with a myriad of shades on the angling out. Mostly black, but the prism’s refracting rays were important. Classic rock from too long ago? No, that’s not the point. I had the image of the prism in mind. From a dark point, emerging, you’re just like that prism. The album’s cover is like the way it is right now, in Capricorn, all black. Maybe even a bit faded. But just like a single, tightly focused beam of light hitting a prism, that light gets separated into broad fan of many colors. If you focus your Capricorn attention, which you should, on one task, suddenly, that task will open up to a whole rainbow of colors and little, associated tasks. Plus, you’ll be able to follow everything with your eyes. Focus on one, but be prepared for it to split into a number of different possibilities.
Aquarius: I was looking for a screw that had fallen behind a desk, which was shoved up into a corner in this over-crowded trailer. As I pulled the desk out, I was wrestling with a myriad of wires, just various items that were no longer attached to any electrical devices. There was an ear bud for a long-gone cell phone, had a special connector or something. Not any use. Besides, if I recall, and I don’t, I think the ear bud died before the phone did. Then there was another headset with a boom mic. Again, the headset was no longer a functioning piece of equipment, but in my mind, I was holding onto the dated technology, figuring I would fix it some day. Not likely. I’m not really hardware hacker. If I can’t just plug it in, then I’m not interested in the process. Oh, I’m interested in the process, I’m just not going to waste any time doing it myself. Then there was a third wire, again, a connector for a cell phone that was two, maybe three cell phones ago. Absolutely useless. No good to me or anyone. Might not even work. Why I was holding onto this dated technology? I can’t say for sure. I think the cell phone connector wire-thing originally cost a lot of money, but even convenience stores now sell them. What I did? With no remorse, I collected up those odd bits of material, wires and plastic connectors, and I tossed them in the trash. Then I took the trash out to the dumpster. Gone. Long gone. Some day I might regret tossing that one connector-thing, that one special wire, that dead ear bud. But between now and that hypothetical time? I need the space. I need clarity. I need fewer wires. Less junk cluttering my existence. Decide, dear Aquarius, what you can toss. Now’s the time.
Pisces: I’m going to stretch a bit and I’m going to keep this short. Resist the temptation to say, “I told you so.” Or a similar phrase, linked in a tangent, sort of, “I already explained that to you.” Gentle, sweet, endearing Pisces? You’ve stated the answer to the question, on numerous occasions. You do not need to run over this material again and again. Or maybe you do. Take a deep breath. When someone asks the same question they asked a few minutes earlier? Go ahead and repeat, verbatim, the same answer you gave them last time. You can do like I do sometimes, I change he answer up a little, but I make sure the meaning is exactly the same. Your Pisces self has great insight into a current problem and a solution to that problem. Keep it simple, though, and more important, don’t lose your cool when you’re faced with the same (stupid) question over and over. Calmly reiterate your point. It’ll get through. Eventually. Maybe. I told you so.
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copyright (c) 2005, 2006 Kramer Wetzel, for astrofish.net
