Fishing Guide to the Stars
By Kramer Wetzel
For the week starting: 7.2.2009
"Come what come may
Time and the hour runs through the roughest day."
Shakespeare’s MacBeth [I.iii.161-2]
July 4th holiday, the Full Moon, Venus shifts from Taurus to Gemini, but what does it all mean? A good place to find out: workshop in old San Antonio.
Cancer: Happy birthday! Isn’t it nice, there’s a big party, all but promised, complete with fireworks, and music and dancing, and probably, if it suits you, lots of drinking. Know what? I’m all for it. Get someone else to cart you around, and just go and have some fun. It’s overdue. You should over do it, too.
It’s not so much that your stars are aligned, as it’s just that they are not misaligned. I can’t make anything perfectly good, not at this point. But I can suggest, come on, it’s not going to be that bad.
Birthday time. Party time. Play time. Skip work. It’s less about what you do with what’s going on and more about doing something with what’s going on, to make it going on. Or something like that? I realized it gets a little circular, and maybe not in a good way, but this is about having some fun. Party. Shake that groove thing. Get your boogie on. Whatever expression works. Cowboy up. Get it?
Word.
Leo: The single, largest problem in Leo life, or The Leo Life, as it should be recorded, is that no one gets it in July. Early part of July, like now? July 4th, long weekends, parties, fireworks, all sorts of stuff, red, white and blue, and so on? It’s a party, but you’re the wallflower. You’re the one who gest left out. You’re the one who they forgot to send an invitation to. You’re the one, bad form if you ask me, who gets dropped from the mailing list.
Accidentally. Happens this week, right around July 4th celebrations. Worst possible event, you get overlooked. Reminds me of a particular Leo, too, she was busy trying to tell me she wasn’t a typical Leo. "Why, there’s a good chance I’d be out there with a shovel, shoveling manure, as be the center of attention — not a typical Leo." I don’t argue with Leo people, it’s not worth it. But, she did have the fancy French-style nails. Long nails. And matching toenails.
Virgo: "You’re a writer, maybe you can help me, see, I’ve got this idea for a book. Novel, maybe a screenplay," and then she proceeded to tell me story that sounded just like a Mexican telenovela — the Latin version of the prime-time soaps. It was a sprawling epic that crossed years and countries, with an exotic backdrop and dashing characters. And it was certainly not my area of expertise, fraught with heartache, abandon, sprinkled liberally with tequila as well. I listened.
The Virgo shopkeeper might have a winner. I doubt I’m the person to take her tale and turn it into a script. Not my deal, but then I know what my limits are. Which is what this is all about. Know what your limits are, my dear Virgo? Know what you can, and for that matter, can’t do? While I understand the process, the details with this particular project doesn’t suit me. I mean, she’s a fetching woman and all, but no, it’s not a project that’s right for me. I’m just here to remind you as the summer pauses and yawns once, what you’ve got to do is assess a project, situation, offer, and think, is it right for me?
Stick to what you know you can do.
Libra: As I walk around one of the older neighborhoods, I’ve noticed that most of the homes have fair-sized porches. To be expected, architecture that predates now ubiquitous air-conditioning. Porches that are attached to homes owned by elderly folks, most of the porches have a blue ceilings. I thought this was some sort of nod towards painting the roof to look like the sky or something. There’s really a more practical application, although, I can’t tell if this an old wives’ tale, urban myth, or scientific fact.
The blue ceiling on porch is supposed to keep the mosquitoes away. It’s a simple gesture that might be more effective than any other kind of bug repellent, and possibly much safer for humans, pets, and the environment altogether. It’s also a simple gesture. You’re going to paint the ceiling of the porch anyway, and blue keeps the bugs at bay, worth a try. As the Sun slips through Cancer, you’re going to find there are a few irritants in the Libra life. Something as simple as blue paint might solve that problem.
Scorpio: Great place to eat, right around the corner from me, a little "Taco House." The last time I had a breakfast taco there, cost a dollar, and there was as much bacon, like, almost a half pound of bacon, plus the eggs, all wrapped in a huge home-made flour tortilla. No wonder I complain about weight. I used to order two of those breakfast tacos but I’ve found that just one will suffice. It’s a matter of learning the limits and working within the known limits of what I can get around.
They throw in killer hot sauce, too, but I tend to skip that — it gets messy when driving someplace. I tend to only hit that taco place for breakfast tacos to go, only, like, when I have an early roll out for fishing or travel. Or travel for fishing. Taken some experimenting, but the best item to order is the bacon and egg (mix) breakfast taco. I mean, for road food.
It’s matter of finding and then sticking to, what you’ve found that works best for your Scorpio self. This isn’t about that place I like for breakfast tacos, I mean, the place is good for lunch, too. But know what your limits are. And stick to the self-imposed Scorpio limits. Like one breakfast taco. It’s big enough to be a meal for a whole day, I mean, really. And that’s enough.
Sagittarius: I’d like to pretend that the world doesn’t revolve around me. I’m an anglo male, so in fact, I sometimes feel like the world does revolve around me. But I also know better. (Everything is dependent upon The Leo. But that’s a different notion entirely.) This is about my business and the slump I tend to hit in the middle of the summer, starting, well, right around the First of July, and this downturn extends until close to the end of the month, like, about the time Leo starts.
It’s just a slowdown, not major recession or anything like that. This won’t apply not across the boards completely to every Sagittarius, but there’s a sag, not a Sadge. A gentle downturn, earmarks of a recession, some problem of some kind that indicates there’s not enough of something. In my case, it’s usually not enough money and folks who want money from me. I’m not feeling sorry for myself, as I have more than enough to keep me busy, like dodging the bill collectors. But there’s this general slow time.
My work is seasonal, and I attribute the slowness to the seasonal variation in my business. Doesn’t affect me. Bothers some folks, though. I look at a stack of books I’ve been intending to read, a little free music I’ve been meaning to download and listen to, and some photos I’ve been meaning to clean up. Plenty of items to keep me busy. Not to mention fishing. It’s summer vacation. Act like it.
Capricorn: I’ve got a buddy, another writer, and he figures that every artist must be tortured. There should be pressure, internal, external, outside forces of great magnitude, causing consternation and strife. Almost like this was an uphill walk. Both ways. In the snow. Barefoot. Which is kind of funny, to me, as it’s summer time and I haven’t worn regular shoes, I don’t wear regular shoes, but I haven’t worn anything but sandals for the last couple of months.
"No, it’s got to be hard, difficult, a tough road." My life, the Capricorn life, it’s difficult enough without creating unnecessary obstacles. Like uphill. Both ways. Barefoot, I’m good with that part, but here in the Northern Hemisphere, most of the places I tend to go? I could enjoy being barefoot. Which part of what this is about, don’t make any of your life more difficult that it needs to be. And if there’s something that can add a degree of comfort? Might want to look at that. Makes the whole process a lot easier.
Aquarius: Give me a few days, and you’ll feel the pressure easing up. And all except for that one particular Aquarius, things are slowing down. There’s always one, and that one, against all odds, unlike 99 per cent of the rest of you, that one will be hitting it big this week. But the rest? The traditional view when Jupiter slows and turns retrograde, especially when it’s in your sign?
There’s a commiserate slow-down in the personal good fortune you’ve had lately. If you haven’t had any good fortune lately? Then this is time for it to slow down, and maybe you can figure out what part of about the "getting lucky (with Jupiter)" isn’t working and how you can rectify this slowdown. Just for yourself. Still, there’s always that one, an Aquarius, who, against all odds, hit it big this week. I’d like one percent. That’s all, just one percent.
Pisces: I got to poking around in my music files. I’ve got a separate disk for nothing but music files. Usually, I’m less of the "download/steal" generation, and I’m more of the "rip it from a CD I’ve got" group, just to be clear here. Anyway I was poking through the files and what I noticed, there was tendency, in my loosely organized music files, to group material together that might not be grouped thusly.
I seemed to get a lot of material that defies conventional musical taxonomy, too. Some of it is pure country, other material is pure rock. There’s always a smattering of classical, as well. Then the sub-genres of music, I started to see that a lot of the material, it’s less "country" or "C & W," and more along the lines of what is currently addressed as "Americana." A little of this, a little of that, country, folk, rock, and what was once the old "Austin" sound. Defies being shoved into a single category, mixing various ethnic & musical flavors to generate a singular sound. A Mexican horn section, Marty Robbins guitar. All in a convenient, easy to not-grasp package. I was thinking about this genre-bending material because that’s what is required in Pisces. Now.
It’s not so much about breaking the rules as embracing a little change, or a new, possibly unheard, ethnic flavor. Blend it in, see what pours out.
Aries: I ordered a single double shot of espresso. "What’s the name for the order?" The (Aries) barista asked. Actually, I think she was just the counter help at that moment. I asked her birthday, why I know she was an Aries. "Kramer, no relation to the guy on TV." She nodded, misspelled my name, and handed the cup to the cook. "I understand, my name’s Thelma, I get that, too."
So she’s an Aries, she gets jokes about her name, and she feels my pain. Be nice if all the Aries out there could be a little more sympathetic. Or empathetic. It’s one of those ways of feeling what I’m feeling. However, I doubt that "Thelma" suffered like I have, with abuse and catcalls, comparisons and slander, all because of my name. My first name, Kramer. I can also see that I’m not getting any sympathy from the Aries at this moment. Okay, I’m tough guy, I can take, I’ll just suffer silently by myself. However, as Venus shifts and as the Sun warms the sign of Cancer? Think about feeling, at least, like, feel sorry for, someone who is suffering.
Show, or at the very least, pretend to show, some kind of sympathy or empathy, when the time presents itself.
Taurus: I can’t think about the July 4th weekend without thinking about Willie Nelson. Taurus. And the originator of the serious Fourth of July Picnic. It’s been an institution for almost all of my lifetime, if not longer. Willie’s been doing a Fourth of July party for quite some time. Adversity, change, and the man’s myth exceeds the reality of the situation. Not that it matters.
The myths about Willie are larger than life, although, as it turns out, there was some truth to a number of the tales. I’ve read a couple of pieces about him, and then there was a book penned by him, read that one, too. He’s better as a songwriter. However, that doesn’t stop the train from rolling along, or the tour busses and entourage out there, on the road again. Which is the suggestion for Taurus, for this weekend.
Get back on the road again. In one form or another. Mars is still here, and he’s pushing you on down that lonely road. On the road again. Ask yourself, a musical question, What Would Willie Do?
Gemini: The opera crowd tends to be a little on the odd side. Coming from someone who spent so much time in Austin, TX ("Keep Austin Weird"), it’s not like I can really comment on weird. But I will. I’d expect black tie, in various forms, to be popular. I tend towards the "Uvalde Tux," which is nothing more than one of my tuxedo jackets, a winged tux shirt, bolo tie, complete with jeans and boots. So it’s not like I have a lot of room to be judgmental. But the guy was dressed, like he stepped out of certain Stevie Ray Vaughn album and video.
Flat, wide-brim felt hat with a low circular crown, shirt, jeans, bolo, so far, so good, lace up knee-high moccasins, again, good move, and a big pancho. Looked like a brown wooly blanket with a hole in its center. What’s up with that wardrobe choice? At the opera? Maybe in a SRV look-alike contest, or as an homage to the greatest blues guitar god, ever, sure.
There’s a point where you want to stick out, a little. There’s a point where you want to declare your Gemini individuality. Individualities. But looking at Mars and Venus, and tracking changes in your psyche? This isn’t the time to make wardrobe choices — or any other kind of decisions about displays.
Like fashion, maybe now is time to try and blend in, instead of showing off your normally excellent tastes.
