“Tis an ill cook that cannot lick his own fingers.”
Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet [IV.ii.8]
Mercury commences a backwards swing as it turns in apparent retrograde motion. In Gemini. Twice the fun, twice the problems. Have to hear about it four times as much.
Gemini: I pulled the Shakespeare quote from Romeo and Juliet, “tis an ill cook that cannot lick his own fingers,” and I got to thinking about food. Literary food stuffs, food in book and magazines. Usually, and I’ve known a food photo specialist before, the photos of food are heavily staged. But in print, there’s always a recipe or two.
I’ve blogged a couple of recipes. I know those work. Good for comfort food. Especially the “secret family recipe” for ice cream. Not exactly healthy, but that’s another matter. But then, think about the literary foodstuff, not cookbooks, but real books. Is that for real a recipe? Or is just a recipe for disaster?
One example comes to mind, a Gemini author, matter of fact, and his book is called “Big Red Tequila.” The title is recipe in the book for a drink, Big Red and Tequila. Makes my head hurt to think about mixing the two.
Cancer: Water conservation, and I got to thinking about this because there was the opposite of a drought for a while. A surfeit of water, an excess of aquatic material. Gone were the signs to “wait until the dishwasher is full before running it,” and “don’t do just one sheet,” as well as similar slogans for the waste water conservation districts.
I remember one from California, Northern Cal, “If it’s yellow, be mellow.” Meant don’t flush every time. Don’t waste water.
This the opposite of water conservation, these days. Here in Cancer, a wonderful, the best Cardinal Water Sign, conservation of resources isn’t that big of an issue. So splurge, in a small way.
Leo: This week’s lyrical question? “Am I right or Amarillo?” I’m just ashamed of myself for blatantly stealing a lick from a pop country song. Still, if the shoe fits, then it must be Lubbock, or leave it. Back to the original point, and don’t get distracted, the deal is, “Am I right or Amarillo?” is a musical question I heard on the radio. I turned it up, sort of followed the song, got bored and listened to something with a little more meat in the music.
But the pernicious lyric stuck in my head. I’m sure there’s a name for that. Most people are aware of Amarillo. Some people seem to think that Amarillo represents Texas, too, having dashed across the northern part of the state on the interstate. That’s just the thinnest slice of the plains of Texas. Doesn’t do justice to the rest. Although, if you are cutting through there, stop at the Cadillac Ranch, just west of town.
Marvel at how whacked out the Texans are. All of this goes a long way in explaining that the land of the weird is still there. Mercury is destined to mess with your head. So, like the lyrical refrain, you have to guess what the right answer is.
Virgo: A Mesquite Tree is a deciduous tree with its aromatic hard wood, perfect for grilling. The Mesquite Tree dots my landscape, the desert environs of the southwestern states. I’m used to it. The Mesquite, no, you can look this up, the longest recorded taproot on one of those trees was almost 200 feet. Deep. But the Mesquite can also adapt, it can suck water moisture up, it can get well water far below the surface, and it can change as need be, to make sure it gets its water, making use of smaller, more delicate roots that vacuum up the surface moisture in the desert.
From a deep tap root to delicate appendages that can siphon up the smallest hint of water, the meager Mesquite has an adaptable nature. In part, I’m sure this is dictated by environment. Thorns, the ability to survive for seasons at a time without water, the ability to tap into the lower water table, or, in that same quest for life-giving moisture, the ability to grab whatever might be available on the surface? Therein is a lesson for the Virgo camp. Thorny outside, multiple sources of (life-giving) water, and that ever-present ability to adapt as need be. This will result in good stuff.
Libra: I was watching a music video — Asleep at the Wheel — on the computer. Reminded me of something, I’m not sure what. Other than the Wheel has been around as long as I have, maybe longer, and the Wheel never made it big. But then, they were never small, either. Some place under the radar, a national act that’s not quite national. A local act that’s too big to be called local. Then, too, the Wheel plays “Western Swing,” which died a long time ago, but yet never died out. It’s an odd collection. Ray Benson, the lead singer, guitar player, heir apparent to the King of Western Swing title, he’s a Pisces, if I recall and I might have him mixed up with another guitar player.
What I was thinking about was how Asleep at the Wheel never made it into the big time. Yet they’re not a small, unknown regional group, either. It’s that fine line between fame and fortune, just under the radar, schlepping from town to town, not quite famous, but certainly not unheard of. Libra, you’re in a similar position. Not famous yet, you do look good to us. Like we know you from someplace. My favorite line, “Aren’t you that guitar player?” I suspect, as your week unfolds, you’re going to feel like Asleep at the Wheel. Famous , yet unrecognized. Enjoy the limelight with its obscurity.
Scorpio: Mercury is about timing, and timing is what this week’s message is all about.
My Scorpio friends are best known for their zingers. One-liners. Comments that most effectively cut to the bone. One line admonitions that succinctly sum up several points and hammer home an issue. Or, in some cases, drive another nail into the coffin’s lid. Or slam the door shut, in the face of some offending party.
It’s that Scorpio wit, it’s that Scorpio tail, it’s that special ability to hit hard with quiet comments. Yeah, and I do love it so. Strong and poignant, hits right where it’s needed. Usually. You depend on your ability to think fast, on your feet. You can rely on your innate wit for fast retort, usually in the guise of a one-liner. And with Mercury, Neptune, and all that Gemini stuff? Your timing is off. You’ll think about the perfect response, about ten minutes too late. Can’t count on your usual quick wit to get you out of this. Some days, it’s best to be mute rather than open your mouth and say something wrong.
Sagittarius: How did this happen? Mutant lizards from outer space? The results of an atom bomb blast? What exactly is the message? It’s all about one of the most recognizable franchises in the movie business: Godzilla. I’m thinking that the first movie was a low-budget Japanese film.
As I understand it, there’s been something like 50 or so of the films made, varying production values. Varying degrees of carnage and destruction, end-of-the-world, and so on. I’m not much up on the Godzilla movie, really. The internet is a nice neighborhood for digging up facts and fictions about a fictional movie. This doesn’t have a lot to do with us, in Sagittarius, but it does.
The movie franchise, that’s what I was thinking about. One, low-budget spin-off of an idea became a world-wide phenomena. Pretty good. There was similar kind planet arrangement when Godzilla (first movie) was born to what’s happening now. With Mercury heading into apparent retrograde motion, opposite us, we have to be careful about what we create. Could be a little idea, like a mutant lizard that just grows and grows.
Capricorn: Retconn. Alternatively, “Retcon.” Retroactive continuity, or the ability to make a new plot twist understandable in light of fresh developemtns and information about the character’s history. This is often employed in comic books with long story lines, but it also occurs, so I’m told, in daily soaps.
The problem being, with Mercury and all, we can’t write “retcon” material into our daily lives. We can’t go back in history and correct an oversight, or drop in a new super-power, and now is time when we could use it the most. Especially in Capricorn. One author I know killed off a supporting character only to have to resurrect that character in another novel, later. “It wasn’t me, dude.” I think that was the quote about the dead body.
While that author got away with it, and they do get away this in comic books, movies, TV shows, as well as fine literature, I’m just saying that I don’t see this happening in Capricorn. “I have to go to a funeral this week,” was an excuse. The problem being, that same relative died last month, too. New excuses. Or work on getting the history straight — the first time.
Aquarius: It was a closing comment from a friend, perhaps it was just signature file, but the comment was, “Don’t be a stranger!” I thought about it as I was fishing, and I kept thinking it should be read, “Don’t be stranger!” Stranger than what? Hard for me to be much stranger than I am.
My little redneck friends think I’m just one step away from a socialist-communist tree-hugging liberal. My tree-hugging liberal friends think I’m just one step away from the redneck-right, neo-fascist gun-toting righteous right with closet Republican tendencies. Neither situation is true, but like my Aquarius friend, and my misreading her note, I keep trying to be stranger. It’s not much of an effort, really. I just act like myself, and that’s the secret.
Mars moves opposite you, and that’s a challenge. How to deal with this, that’s up to you, but I would tend to accentuate the “strange” part of the Aquarius mind (pattern, brain waves, thinking, feeling). Placing an emphasis on this sometimes abstract and weird part of the Aquarius thinking will help ease the way through this moon cycle. Mars, too. Mars is opposite, be stranger than usual. It’s okay.
Pisces: Perhaps one of the best lines of all time, from the movie The Blue Brothers, “I ran out of gas. I, I had a flat tire. I didn’t have enough money for cab fare. My tux didn’t come back from the cleaners. An old friend came in from out of town. Someone stole my car. There was an earthquake. A terrible flood. Locusts. IT WASN’T MY FAULT, I SWEAR TO GOD.”
This illustrates the fundamental difference between reality and the celluloid world, or the digital world. I’ve tried that line before. It didn’t work. I’ve tried it several times, never seems to have the same effect as it did in the movie. One, single line that got the character out of trouble, talked a homicidal woman (scorned) out of using the automatic weapon in her hand.
What Pisces wouldn’t like a golden line like that? How much would you give me if I could deliver such a line? I’ll be up front, though, I’ve tried and the one from the movie doesn’t work. Does it matter? Yes and no. Doesn’t matter to you, although, I wasn’t facing a spurned woman with a weapon, but it does matter that excuses, especially good excuses, like “It wasn’t my fault,” those don’t work. Mercury. Gemini. Whatever you want to to blame go right ahead and blame it. But watch the lines, the excuses. I showed up with flowers. “What did you do wrong?” Nothing.
Aries: In South Texas, where there is a lot of Mesquite, I noticed that the dominant kind of chaps are shorter than customary. In movies, on TV, in the popular media and mind set, chaps are bushy things that go to the ground, protecting and covering the legs, thighs and sides. In South Texas, working wranglers, i.e., real cowboys, wear a short kind of apparel. Chaps, the outside covering, again, from popular media, chaps are supposed to be leather.
What I’ve seen working cowboys wearing, though, is more like heavy canvas, and the design is a shorter one, covering thighs and knees, but stopping well short of the expected length. Turns out this is a popular, or maybe it’s a fad, but this is a popular design for horse-riding field-workers who have to spend a lot of time, in the saddle. In the saddle, as in riding a horse, as opposed to some kind of a metaphor. There was a name for that kind of chaps, but it escapes me now.
This is all about what is perceived as the proper order of things, and what that proper order really is. Not that an Aries would have trouble with discerning one from the other, but there is a problem here. From watching a couple of (real) cowboys move around in the aforementioned shorter chaps, I was guessing that the design is marginally cooler, certainly easier to move about in, and maybe it’s an improvement. Good for everyone but Hollywood (and its related ilk). The shorter chaps aren’t particularly photogenic, but comfort or looks, what’s most important?
Taurus: Starts on a high note, and then just as quick as the weekend arrives, it all sort of slides down, sideways. It’s Mars, it’s the phase of the moon, it’s Mercury’s relative position, it’s the sun in Gemini, no wait, that last one, that’s good. But the other pointers that I use in making an astrology prediction, those don’t look so hot.
None of this is dire, or bad. I headed out to one area lake the other afternoon. Morning, I started in the morning. I took gear, tackle, drinks, a chair, cigars, everything I needed to catch and record many big fish. Eventually, I had everything in the water, and I spent hours by the bank of the lake, and I never got a bite. Maybe some nibbles. At least once or twice, it looked like the bait was chewed up, but no fish on the end of the line.
To some, this would appear to be a losing proposition. To me, it was research and development, trying to pick a pattern, everything that I enjoy about fishing except for the catching part.
- Aperture: ƒ/1.8
- Camera: iPad Pro (11-inch)
- Flash fired: no
- Focal length: 3mm
- ISO: 64
- Shutter speed: 1/60s
