“For they sleep between term and term,
And then they perceive not how Time moves.”
Shakespeare’s As You Like It [III.ii.133]
- Fishing Guide to the Stars
by Kramer Wetzel
For the week starting: 2.4.2010
In Louisiana, a place close to Texas, there’s a tradition of the King Cake. Aries? Pisces? One of those signs should get the baby in the cake. It’s good luck.
Aquarius: I, personally, believe that children shouldn’t be allowed to watch too much TV. However, for the sake of illustrating what’s happening in Aquarius? Imagine a Saturday morning cartoon, from the good, old days.
Cartoon character. A caricature of an anvil drops from on high. If this cartoon followed the plot, that anvil should have an impact on the character. Since it was cartoon physics, no real injury would occur other than little birds and stars swimming around the character’s head.
As I correlated your chart, though, I was getting a slightly different version of the this cartoon. Yes, you’re there. Yes, the anvil drops. Stand still. First off, if it really did land on your (cartoon) head, there would be no permanent damage, cartoon physics and all. However, the way it looks to me? Just stand there. The anvil misses you.
Pisces: It’s all about guilty little pleasures. In my favorite example, this week, I was listening to a CD. Really, it’s pair of CDs, a “Rock Opera.” Quadrophenia by The Who. This is that material that falls between selling out to TV and after critical acclaim. The movie derived from the CD set, really it was an album first, but the movie? Starred a very young Sting. Before the Police.
Enough with the “classic rock” crap. Some of the Pisces I know? This is music published before they were born. Weird, huh. Which is also why I qualified this as a guilty pleasure, which is what it is. And that’s what this is all about, guilty pleasures.
For me, I’ll rip that pair of CDs onto a portable music player, and then, I’ll plug in and tune out everything around me. It’s about an hour, hour and half, of music. Tells a story. Sort of. Well, it is opera. For me, anyway this slices up? It’s a guilty pleasure. In the next week? Between Jupiter, the Moon, and Aquarius? Guilty pleasure, like listening to a historically important piece of music. Rock opera. Classic Rock. Whatever works.
Aries: Stymied. No place to turn. No way out. I wouldn’t be a good fishing guide if I didn’t have a place to fish even when nothing seems to work.
Magic bait. Secret spot on the lake. Now it makes a little more sense, and this is where the (metaphor) meets the (metaphor). What I really wanted to write is trite, but true, this is where the “Rubber meets the road.” And there will be tire squealing.
Rather, I’m sure there will be Aries squealing. Which is part of what this is about. Squeal all you want. Life isn’t fair, the stars aren’t fair, I’m a big, fat jerk, but none of that matters. Name calling, hair pulling, gnashing of teeth? All wasted energy.
Turn that energy in a single, purposeful, useful direction. It won’t be without frustrations along the way. I’m of a mind, usually, that if a task isn’t easy them it’s not meant to be done. However, just humor me at this moment, this is like a day when the fish aren’t biting and I know one spot, only it take perseverance to catch a fish.
Takes more than a few tries. Keep pushing and punching in that one direction, towards that one goal.
Taurus: It’s no secret I tend to favor buying groceries and supplies at a warehouse type store. I like the places, get a whole pallet of food, enough to last a family of eight at least three months, get that whole pallet for about two dollars. Have to shop smart as the deals there aren’t always the best, but a little savvy shopping and price comparison will yield benefits.
So I was much taken aback, I was in line with my oversized shopping cart full of bread (local bakery), canned goods, frozen goods, bottled goods and some beef jerky. That stuff lasts forever. I was behind another, apparently, single male. He was talking on the phone. “No, what are you wearing?” he glanced furtively around the store, and I glanced down at the bare, concrete floor.
He hunched over and started to mumble, and I’m sure I didn’t want to hear. I only caught snippets, and those sounded like phone sex. In line. While waiting in line. I must admit, it was one of the better uses of time. Nothing that I would care for, either phone sex or waiting in line, but then, maybe I don’t have the same tight schedule this guy had. Maybe it was the only time he could work it in. Sounded like the foreplay, the run up to something that was going to occur later that afternoon.
Sounded like something else, too, but I was subjected to only snippets. Not that I wanted details. Unless this really is something that turns you on, and I’ve heard about weird Taurus people, but mostly, I’m just saying, let’s tone it down for the next couple of days. Hate for your phone tryst to wind up in public print.
Gemini: This is the perfect week to pull the ultimate, or penultimate Gemini excuse, “I can’t make up my mind.” Minds. Should read, “I can’t make up my minds.” This is less about confusion and more about permanence.
One of my neighbors has a lot of ink. In a scroll, across the right side of his neck, just above the collar, there’s a girl’s (woman’s) name. On the other side of his neck, another girl’s name. Right shoulder blade? Heart with another woman’s name in it. I think, all total, there are at least five names in cursive, tattooed on this guy. Kind of a manly message and maybe one, you know, if I was a girl, and going out with him, I’d take that as a warning.
One of the names, actually, is his daughter, and he’s a devoted and loving father, every other weekend. But the other four names? Girlfriends, wife, and so on. I’d be careful about permanent decisions that carry more weight than the sweet Gemini realizes. Like my buddy with all that ink. Instead of getting a tattoo, my fine Gemini friend? Consider working on the design a little longer.
Cancer: You have to believe me when I say that I want what’s best for my little Cancer sun sign friends. You just have to believe me. Doesn’t matter if you’re working with Cancer Sun Sign. A Cancer Moon sign or just some Cancer attributes in the astrology chart, all of that? Any of that?
Pressure. Pressure to perform, sudden death play-off pressure. The “It’s Life-and-death! Now!” Pressure. Urgings.
So my suggestion? Right now? Don’t cave in to the pressure. Don’t give in. Don’t let the “I need it right now!” don’t fall for that line. Nothing can be gained by making a hasty decision. A hasty decision is just that, quick and ill-conceived. Which is the problem And that’s what I’m trying to save you from.
In as much as I’m trying to rescue Cancer? It’s more along the lines of me trying to prevent you from making a stupid decision. Well, no decision is a stupid decision, but I can save you from making a choice that you’ll probably regret in about ten days. Don’t. Not now.
Leo: Tequila comes in variety of flavors. I’m not much of a drinking man, so many of my tequila tidbits are admittedly secondhand. There’s specialty hand-crafted one from Austin, then there’s Anejo, Patron, 1826, Cuervo, No-name brand, and urine.
One Leo friend asked advice on dealing with Mars being in her sign (Leo, obviously) for so long and what the best course of action might be. I started with that list of tequila, which led to a drinking story, and my little Leo friend was amused that she suffered no hangovers of other deleterious side-effects when drinking the good stuff, that Anejo or Patron.
Again, I know next to nothing about tequila except some of the no-name brands and I’ve found, with remarkable alacrity that the good stuff is less damaging. Which means, the stuff I last sampled, the no-name brand? I’d rather drink urine. Probably taste better, too. But this isn’t about border towns, or what was the well liquor at the bar the other night. This is about dealing with Mr. Mars and all that pile up in Aquarius. If you can’t afford the good stuff? Of this I am sure, then don’t get the cheap stuff. No Leo need be so bothered.
Virgo: “I’m looking for a guy with the three R’s: Robust, Rowdy, Romantic.” Okay, clear image there. Definitely a Virgo girl with a mission.
Clearly stated goals.
While I’m not looking for a partner that is any of those three things, I tend towards dark, bitter and mysterious. Maybe cold, if it’s a hot day. Never mind, it’s not what I’m looking for, it’s what the stated goals of the Virgo are. Get a clear image of what it is that you’re looking for.
- 1. Narrow it down.
2. A list of just three bullet points.
3. Three keywords.
In the case of that one Virgo girl? Alliteration helps. Not required, just poetic. Sort of. In a Virgo way, works like a mnemonic. Again, not required, but this makes the three points easier to find.
What’s happened, thus far? She, this is South Texas, and she is a cowgirl kind of woman, as if the list itself wasn’t a clue, and she’s found, like a good Virgo, a guy cowboy kind of guy, who is two of the three. Why I suggested bullet points. As a Virgo, remember that there are three points that must be fulfilled. Two isn’t good enough. “But he’s rowdy and robust, and he likes to ride,” she was pleading.
Can you pass up romance? Probably not, that’s kind of a deal breaker. List. All three criteria have to be met.
Libra: Just north, like, across the street and north of the Alamo, in San Antonio, there’s a swank place called the Emily Morgan Hotel. Four star, five star, expensive, nice, tray sheik. Approaching this building from the west? It’s a triangular building, and from one side, the street side alongside the Alamo? That hotel looks, as much as anything, like the prow of a ship.
At the top, there’s a corner that extends up above the rest of the building culminating in a flagpole with, of course, a Texas flag. I got a picture of this, one time, for the “Sky Friday” web portal I was participating in. Several. Shot a digital equivalent of a whole roll of film one afternoon, trying to capture the essence of the flag, the breeze, the blue sky, the corner of the famous hotel, all of that. When I got around to chopping and clipping the single image I selected?
What I wound up with was just a flagpole, flag, and blue sky. By the time it was all done, the best image, the single shot that worked? It was third the size of what I started with, only suitable for web publication, and then, the identifying characteristics of that grand building? All gone.
It’s lesson, for Libra, it’s a lesson in what to take away to catch the essence of (something). Whatever it is? What we’re looking at doing, this week is subtracting superfluous material. Not adding, removing. Wouldn’t know where that picture was from if I didn’t tell you. Part of the Libra “mystique.”
The saddest part of the horoscope? I can’t find the image itself, long since buried on the side project.
Scorpio: There’s a heavy “Latin” influence in my area. Spanish — and to me — Mexican — is the popular language. One buddy call this part of the world, “Mexico Junior.” As apt a name as any. At one of the local coffee shops, I saw one sign that infected my sense of the absurd. The place offered three sizes of coffee: Chico, Mediano, Grande.
Small, Medium, Large. In order. And in an order that makes sense. And in a language derived from Latin, and is logical. And best of all, it is an affront to certain standardized global chain. It’s brave, and of course it caught my attention because it a sign that strives go against advancing mediocrity. I think it’s a clever sign, too.
How many (global chain brand) customer will walk in and automatically order a “grande?” “Hey,” the customer complains, “I ordered a grande, not an extra large.” I would fully expect the person who dreamed up that “Chico Mediano Grande” sign to be a Scorpio.
The fair warning this week? That very same Scorpio sign could trip you up, if you’re not careful and make sure you read ALL the fine print. That customer, that could be you, complaining.
Sagittarius: I like my tourists. “Yeah, Kramer likes tourists ‘medium well,’ kind of stringy,” snickered a Scorpio gal pal. No, I like watching them, whether the tourists are from Europe , the Far East, New York, or even, just from the plains of West Texas. It was just a guy that gave me a moment to pause and reflect.
He was a cowboy. Cowboy hat, nice felt, a single silver buckle on the hatband. Older white guy with a deeply tanned face, the color of well-worn leather, deeps creases and folds on his face. Gentleman’s demeanor, too, with a buckskin vest, neatly trimmed with silver conchos, pearl-snap shirt with enough starch to make it stand on its own, and a slightly faded but well-pressed pair of Wrangler jeans.
Older guy, with a wife that he was deferential to. She had a large shock of white hair, all I recall about her. I’m guessing correct cowboy attire, too. I didn’t notice in the crowd. What I did see? He had on Velcro-strap “tennis” shoes. Completely didn’t go with the outfit, the image and his visage. I didn’t get a chance to chat, as I was pushed through in a crowd. I do remember that one guy, though, and the abrupt problem with the footwear. But it’s easy to understand, after years of riding trucks and horses? Maybe the feet give him a problem, and he was doing the tourist thing, which requires walking, and therein is the issue.
As a Sagittarius, especially now, comfort or fashion? Which is more important?
Capricorn: By the end of this horoscope, the Capricorn mood will vary wildly. From utter euphoria to complete disdain, and any number of degrees within that range, too. Wild swings. It’s a function of an arcane set of influences, but simply put, it’s up to you.
As a Capricorn, you are able to steer your good ship Capricorn through these hazardous waters called the treacherous currents of time, and I suspect, you will do quite well. Eventually. The deal is that there’s a big wave or two. Maybe rough waters stretching for what seems like eternity. Not the way I see it, but them, I’m not a Capricorn. If I were, I’m sure I’d see the same turbulent oceans ahead.
Is it really bad? That bad? Okay, maybe it does seem that way at this moment. Or it will seem that way before the end of this horoscope. What I’d like you to do, Oh Captain, my Captain (Captain Capricorn)? Crawl up on the main mast. There should be a crow’s nest at the top. An observation post high above, that’s what we’re looking for.
Instead of looking at this next few days that appear so dismal? Look afar. Look far, far away. There’s peace and calm, about ten days away. Just sail on through this tiny rough patch. It’s really not as bad as you make it out to be.
(c) 2009-2010 Kramer Wetzel for astrofish.net
