11.5.2009

Fishing Guide to the Stars
By Kramer Wetzel
For the week starting: 11/5/2009

"Music, moody food of us that trade in love."
Shakespeare’s Antony and Cleopatra [II.v]

Saturn Square Pluto exact this week. Venus enters Scorpio.

Scorpio: Grease the wheels. Grease the skids. I really don’t think that skids are used much, not anymore, except perhaps, in remote locations, so that term, "grease the skids," it’s kind of pointless. A skid is a long, usually flat piece, either wood or metal and either a rail or a plane, and greasing the skids meant that — are you even paying attention?

It’s all about making room, in a nice way, for some good Scorpio progress. I’m not being difficult here.

Straight up and simple. Make nice. It’s your birthday, everyone else should be making nice to you. In order to make this happen, a situation where everyone is nice, polite and kind to Scorpio? (Ask me, and I’ll tell anyone, they should always be nice to Scorpio.) To make room for this to happen? The little Scorpio slice needs to give this a push, a shove, or just "grease the skids" so folks can be nice to you. Smile. Even if you don’t man it? Still, smile. Make room for the other people to be nice to you, especially when they find out it’s your birthday.

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Sagittarius: "You draw blood. I write horoscopes. It’s what I do. It’s what you do." It was a nurse-like person, a Scorpio, actually, and she was efficiently, and without too much extra pain, sampling some of my blood. Routine, nothing to worry about, just the doctor checking up on something. It was early and as the nurse-like technician was digging around in my arm looking for a vein? I was not grimacing and making light conversation.

"Yeah, Scorpio’s are cool," I said. She hit the vein, blood flowed into the tube, and I looked her up and down. She was the first to hit the mainline in the first try, and I hope that portends well for the blood-work. However, I wonder if my (attempt) at polite banter was also a cause of some extra irritation. Venus, Mercury, Sun, stacked up in Scorpio. Some days? Some days it’s better if we just keep our Sagittarius mouths closed. I mean, I still got the bruise from that little needle. Perhaps our light and breezy way isn’t always appreciated, especially now, all that Scorpio influence.

Capricorn: By the time I wound up in a trailer park in South Austin, I had developed a lifestyle wherein I was somewhat removed from doing readings in my own domicile. Other than phone, readings, I never invited any clients over for readings. Not in the trailer itself. Means I’ve got a private side to life. There’s what the public sees, and there’s what goes on behind closed (aluminum) doors.

You’re a Capricorn. You have a private side of life. Some of your public life is starting to invade, infect, or interject into your private life. While I’m a firm believer in no firm rules, a good boundary or barrier is required. When I lived in South Austin, I considered the edge of that trailer park as the edge of "my world" and the "outside world." Made for a clear line of demarcation. No problems with people showing up at odd hours requesting my professional services — no one knew where I lived.

I’m using this as an example to get a point across, a valid Capricorn point about the line. Could be a line in the sand, a line chalked on a grass playing field, an invisible boundary around a trailer park. But there’s a line, and as a Capricorn, this is one of the times it’s best to respect that line. Could be your line and it could be us you’re saving yourself from.

Aquarius: Fishing in October (last month) — along the Gulf Coast — it was a typical scene. Had my allotted (slotted) Reds, three in the cooler, and then, late in the afternoon, a fishing pole bent over, the line went singing out against the reel’s drag, and it was a big one. Nice, big Red. Got her in the boat and bemoaned the fact that we already three in the cooler.

However, the fish and game laws are there to protect the species, and as such, actually help. Only that means I was going to have to let the biggest one go. Instead, buddy I was fishing with, he grabbed the most recent previous catch, the gills were still working on that one, and after about thirty seconds in the bay’s warm waters? That little one swam off.

The big one, I’m sure there’s a picture on a website someplace of me with the big Red, he was dinner that night. Those Redfish, really, Red Drum, they are a hearty species of fish. But that one we let go? What’s he going to tell his friends? "One minutes, I’m eating this good shrimp, landed right in front of me, then I’m pulled up into an alien space ship, white light and voices? Then it’s cold. Cold and dark. Suddenly, I’m back. Jaw’s a little sore, too, must be that shrimp."

You get a second chance. You get an opportunity to live, swim and tell about it. Stick to the facts, though, and think before you start eating shrimp again — or whatever bait it was that caught you.

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Pisces: I was standing in line, waiting on an icy coffee beverage to be prepared, as is my custom on a sunny afternoon. The young lady — woman — making the drink was bantering and relating a recent experience involving dancing, nightclubs, and men.

"I told him I wasn’t going to (dance with) him, and he insisted on buying me a beer anyway," she said. I had a small audience. "Look," I replied, glancing to my right, "guys are just stupid." Two girls next to me giggled. I shrugged. Sotto voce, I added, "I should know; I am one." A fleeting blush, a giggle, a hand over one mouth, something whispered. All in good fun.

What it means for Pisces? You can be the guy or the girl, but if you’re not careful, just because someone says, "No," that means you keep trying harder. Me? I’d just, as an outside observer? I’d suggest you give up. Some girl tells me "No?" I’ll take it as a no, and leave it go.

Aries: There are certain items, and I just can’t make this stuff up. I passed a (big-name oil company) station. The block letters advertised the price of a pack of cigarettes, the prices for various grades of gasoline, and then, on the sign in removable letters? "Fresh Turkey Legs." I’m thinking, I didn’t have the stomach, or heart, to investigate. I’m guessing these are like the turkey legs sold at various events through the south and west. I don’t know if ya’ll get such things in other parts of the country. We do. Turkey legs. Big old drumstick. Good food. But at a corner gas station and convenience store? I can’t even begin to fathom the details. Unless it was a joke, and in that particular neighborhood? Probably not a joke.

Here’s the scenario: you see this kind of a sign, odd and oddly enough, not odd. This isn’t about turkey legs, it’s about seeing something that’s plainly out of place and yet, for some reason, not out of place. Action, reaction and the Aries course? Nothing. As long as Pluto and Saturn are tight? Realize that it’s absolutely weird and strangely enough, not that strange. Instead of having a grand freak out? Maybe just take a picture with your phone, then send that along, and not worry about it. Too much.

Taurus: I live in a widely diverse neighborhood. While it is principally classified as "Hispanic," don’t complain — I don’t make up the demographic terms — the actual bloodlines are much more entangled. Towards that end, while I’m used to the aroma of cooked meat (BBQ) wafting on the afternoon breeze, or the smell of tortillas hot on the comal? What caught my attention was a very "German" smell of hot apple (strudel, pie, filling, jam) with a layer of burnt, caramelized sugar.

I never claimed to have an accurate nose, except for catfish bait. However, that one afternoon, wind was out of the south-southwest, and the gentle zephyrs carried that aroma. Strong enough to create an impression on me. Strong enough to override the usual (and delicious) Latin cuisine. Strong enough to make me wonder. Strong enough to puncture my sinus membranes — get an image here? That’s what’s happening to Taurus, you get a strong, perhaps pungent, punch that, at first, might seem incongruous. It’s not. Appreciate the differences, whether it’s cultural or something else.

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Gemini: Historically, the local lakes aren’t any good fishing, not during November. But that’s just according to the history, local lore and myth. While some lore and mythology is based in fact, other sorts of historical data might suggest otherwise.

I’ll admit, it’s a hit or miss proposition, but time it right, and this only makes sense, the big fish are fattening up for the winter’s nap. Winter, such as we get it. About two or three days of intensely cold weather.

What’s it going to be, my fine little Gemini friend? Are you going to look at the almanac, and just leave the fishing until later? Or are you willing to give it a try, despite what some of the predictions are? Just as a casual guess, from what I’ve seen lately? Go ahead consider giving it a try, doesn’t matter what you’re fishing for, and I’m not promising that there will definitely be some return, but I think, just eschew common wisdom for a little while. See what you might catch, even tough, traditionally, this isn’t a good month for Gemini fishing.

Cancer: I stopped at a certain chain of coffee shops to get an afternoon shot of caffeine. I like my coffee like my women, cold and bitter, and oddly refreshing on a warm winter afternoon. The coffee was served in an Xmas cup. This is wrong. This wrong on so many levels, I don’t even know where to begin. Xmas starts the day after Thanksgiving.

There will be no Xmas candy, no Xmas color, no xmas anything until the day after Thanksgiving. I don’t care what mess the economy is in, the state of the world, anything. It’s just plain wrong to have stockings hung with care in late August. Wrong. Not mildly wrong or slightly incongruent, no, it’s just wrong.

That Xmas cup reminded me of another experience. "Would you like to try a new Pumpkin Latte?" No. It was 80 degrees, I’m not interested in a "warm winter drink" when it’s hot and sunny. Again, this wrong. I want the bucket of ice, tea, which only makes sense. I can’t combat stupid national chains with no sense about marketing in warmer climates. I can’t stem the tide of Xmas crap that starts in July. I can warn my little Cancer friends that there’s a battle, and I’m sure you agree with me, about what’s right and what’s not.

Leo: Consider this a dress rehearsal. Consider this a dry run. Consider this Leo Exercise Week. Consider not taking this too much to heart? By that, what I’m suggesting is that you don’t get so wrapped up in the final outcome of just one project, don’t bet the farm and at this point, I’m out of stupid cliche expressions for you.

It’s more like this all about practice and getting a process fine-tuned. The problem is that you think this is the real deal. It’s not. I was at the lake the other afternoon. I had a certain fishing pole and certain reel, not particularly well-suited for that lake, not that it matters, but what I was doing was working it out so the next time I’m confronted with similar water and similar situations? I’ll be ready. Hone my skills, as it were, instead of really fishing. What this is about, too. Mars is in your sign, Sun &c., is in Scorpio. Tension. Jupiter, across from you in Aquarius. More tension. It’s like the walls are closing in. Again, more tension. Consider this practice and exercise rather than final form. Besides, I did hook two small perch with that arrangement, not that it matters, it was just an exercise.

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Virgo: I’ve joked about this one Taco House close to me. Only open for breakfast and lunch, the food itself is wonderful. Absolutely amazing cuisine. Just plain, basic Tex-Mex/Mexican fare. Personal fave? "Steak and Enchilada Plate," runs about four dollars, might be a little higher now, but not much.

The steak is a miniscule piece of mystery meat with the bejeebers grilled out of it. There is no "Rare-Medium-Well-done" to this thin slice of beef (or beef-like substance). Not really something I’d want served any other way besides "really well-done." There’s always the roadkill joke about the food, but I’m not so sure that it’s really a joke. Nothing I want to know. The enchiladas that go with that "steak" plate? Mexican Cheese wrapped in a red-corn tortilla, covered with a chili sauce that’s hot and good. More like a beef stew, rather than a sauce.

The point is, though, do you really want to know, what exactly is in the meat or the sauce? Not really. No, trust me, even the Virgo people I’ve taken to this one place, they all agree, no, really, some things in life are better left unknown. As this next few days progresses and as we get on into November the full moon and so on? Yeah, ask yourself, "Virgo self, this a really good deal, do I want to know what kind of animal this came from?"

Libra: I’ve rigged different fishing poles and different fishing lines for a variety of situations. As I got to poking at your Libra chart, I thought about a particular surf-like fishing rig I’ve used on a lake, lake’s just south of here.

Used this set-up with remarkable success, which is funny, since it’s a salt-water (allegedly) arrangement. What I do is put a heavy sinker on the line, then, anywhere from one to three feet up from that sinker? That’s where the hook goes. Big weight, on the bottom. Bait, live, fresh dead, or artificial? Up from there. Number of different names for this kind of arrangement, too. Call it what you want, but something to anchor your Libra self, whatever that is, and then, you float something tasty, just above the anchor. Easiest way to deal with Saturn and Pluto, anchor and float.

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