For the week starting: 4.22.2010

“Ungracious wretch,
Fit for the mountains and the barbarous caves,
Where manners ne’er were preached!”
Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night [IV.i.43-4]

Poor Toby Belch, getting reamed.

Fishing Guide to the Stars
by Kramer Wetzel
For the week starting: 4.22.2010

Taurus: I listened to a riff, music was on an iPod, routed to speakers, so I reversed the direction of the music and listened to the riff again. I tried to imagine my fingers , making that noise, it was fast, and yet, it sounded casual. Finger tips here, here and here, in rapid succession. The riff sounds deceptively easy, and yet, it’s almost impossible to duplicate.

For me, it’s not almost, it’s very much impossible. I can’t even hum the notes that fast, much less play them on a piano, or, for that matter, vocalize the notes in any way, shape or form that even approximates the tune. Part of a classical piece, just a short section, maybe a handful of notes, and I used the little scroll wheel to slide the tune back and forth. Felt like I was scrubbing the notes, in my vain attempt to figure out the keyboard pattern. Never did.

There are skills I don’t have. One of them is musician. I can appreciate the art, I can applaud the effort, but I can’t figure out how to do it. Not an issue, either, not with me.

But I know what I can — and can’t — do. I spent a few moments marveling at the keyboard skill of that one musician. Keep in mind this was just one riff, not even the whole piece. I didn’t give up, I just decided that the effort for me to play music was greater than the reward. I think that’s a good idea on how you get around the Mercury problems.

Gemini: I suppose that it is both cultural and local. I was in the “Feed & Seed” store. South side of town. I didn’t really want anything, I was just passing through, there’s something homey to me about a “Feed & Seed” store, the smell of fertilizer and fresh oats, all laced with a thin patina of motor oil. Sawdust on the floor, maybe the smell of fresh-cut planks of pine.

There was a flat of baby chicks. That’s one I hadn’t seen before. The easter thing, I think that was the reason there were baby chicks there. I’m not entirely sure. I didn’t want to seem like a rustic and ask. So I didn’t. I just smiled broadly, and stepped out the door.

I’ve been meaning to stop at that one store, for that very reason, odd stuff. Which isn’t odd, since, in that neighborhood, on my frequent walks, I can hear roosters. Yardbird means what it means, in that place. So the chicks weren’t out of place. What’s out of place in Gemini land with Mercury? Or not out of place? Again, this is local and cultural.

Cancer: I was cruising along in the “Whole Paycheck” grocery store. The chain’s origins are deeply rooted in “old Austin’s culture.” I can point to the original location. Before corporate expansion and global domination. The nickname is from a local Austin girl, and for some of us, that moniker has stuck. I was looking at coffee in the store. Free-range, all-organic, and whatever else is paramount, this week?

I happened across the oldest trick in the book: name. I found a bag of beans, locally roasted in Washington, TX, and the name of the coffee? “Jet Fuel.” How could I pass up a bag of that? Little expensive for my tastes, but still, good stuff. Multi-origin, medium-dark roast. Couple of mornings later, I was pressing up some of that coffee. First sip, tasted like coffee, nothing spectacular. Second cup, tasted fine. And I got a little more motivated. By the third cup? I know from whence the name is derived.

Jet-Fuel. What was nice? That coffee was smooth enough so the kick didn’t come with a kick. Sort of eased on up the throttle until I was going really fast without trying. Almost snuck up on me. The problem being is that there’s that “fast-burn” association, burns bright, burns out.

Would I buy more “Jet Fuel” coffee? Probably not. Would I recommend it? Yes, good flavor, excellent kick, smooth. If I’m not buying it, but I am recommending it? Too pricey for me, but that might just be the right amount of smooth kick to get you through this Mercury Mayhem.

Leo: Some websites pop open with a song and dance routine. I don’t mean figuratively, I mean, literally. It’s frankly annoying, to me. There’s a load time, maybe a cute (and/or bothersome) “website loading” animated bar graph, bit of flash, a song, a dance number, moving graphics.

Tiresome, after the first exposure, and some of it is reused, again kind of boring. “But I paid a lot of money for that flash animation,” and I’ll say, “It was good. Once.”

I worked for hours to produce a 20-second intro bit for my site. It was a simple, “Howdy, welcome to astrofish.net.” I worked with a producer — quid pro quo — and we came up with a good bit. The right drum, the right screech of guitar, just enough low fidelity to make a funny point. Lot of effort for a 20-second clip that doesn’t get played that often. Last I checked, it was buried on the server. Still there, but not even linked from the splash pages anymore.

All for the better, if you ask me. Annoying to hear myself every time I opened the page. Fun the first time, but every time after that? Do the math. That clip, the sound clip with background harmony and guitars, drum and bass? Took a while to make an adequate stringer. Lots of work for something that’s only about 20 seconds long. Worth it? For me, as an exercise, it was well worth the effort. However, from “wise use of time” point? Probably not so much.

Or good use of professional talent? Again, I might have used that favor in a better spot. But I didn’t. I did learn about audio and the process to get a good sound byte. Sound bite. I know I won’t be a recording engineer — except for my own work — anytime too soon. Learn. Listen and learn. And quit with the funny graphics at the beginning of web pages. Stick to the meat.

Virgo: Saddle up to the phone tree. Or tie up to the phone tree: it can be done. There is a solution, a way to handle this kind of upset. Just takes time. Time I’d rather spend elsewhere, doing something else, I’m sure, but sooner (or later) my little Virgo friends we’re all going to run into the phone tree problem.

I’ve found, just had this issue myself, I’ve found that a fresh glass of tea, go to the bathroom, then settle down with the web browser open and the phone tucked into one ear. There’s going to be a moment or three of that special hold music. Soft strains of pointless ear candy, what someone thinks is soothing music, and then, it’s the infuriating operator.

Sometimes, English isn’t the native language. I’m not going to pass judgement, they’re just reading from a computer’s screen, same way we are. Only, the phone tree operator is trying to help solve problems. Our problems. That language barrier, that’s just the first step. When I suggested that Virgo get comfortable? Settled in? Glass of tea at hand? The idea is that this is the time for patience to work around the difficulty. My last experience will help. I was polite, firm in my point, but jovial in tone. Transferred s few times. Wound up with a person further up the tree, and my guess was a deep south call center, like the American Deep South.

She tried to hide the accent but some of it leaked out. Not a problem I can “yawl” with the best of them. All good. Problem eventually solved. It just took 45 minutes, not the expected 15. Mercury multiplies times.

Libra: I listened while one Libra obsessively worried about a problem until, at the point, the problem became the problem. It was a hypothetical issue before, but after a few hours of worry, that one Libra contrived that there was a “best case” scenario, and there was a “worst case” scenario, and that worst-case scenario was, for sure, the way it would go. No other hope.

Worried it into existence, which, I’m sure, on some metaphysical level, it makes some sort of sense. Think about it long enough, think about it hard enough, and whatever that subject is? We can make it happen. I’m trying to jar you loose from thinking about thinking about this Mercury Retrograde as a problem, and more as an opportunity.

There’s an issue, a thing, a problem or what was a problem, and there’s new material to look at. New way to see the problem as less of a problem. Way around the issue. Instead of trying to bull your way through? Consider looking for a way around. Go back over the steps you’ve already completed and look again. Be willing to discover new stuff in the old material.

Scorpio: Shakespeare’s 12th Night (this week’s quote) is a great play with a number of comedy high points. It’s all about who is what and what’s going on, and the humor works even better with the lead female playing a male.

Things aren’t what they always seem.

Always a little bit of a homosexual overtone to that last part; although, I’m sure, that’s just a little postmodern angst layered in on top. It’s hard to find players, actors (actresses) who look enough like each other to make all the roles believable. In some of the versions I’ve seen, the characters don’t look at all alike, not off stage, but on stage? Dressed the same? Looks enough like each other that it works. Maybe a little bit of acting is involved in believing that the brother and sister are related, but then, that’s my modern sentiment.

One of the central themes in that play is that people aren’t what they seem to be. A servant boy is really a princess, only she was shipwrecked, and there was no hope otherwise. Anyway, turns out she’s really a princess. Good enough.

Like I said, things aren’t always what they seem. In a reverse of the play’s theme, how about someone representing themselves as royalty, when, in fact, the character in question? Much humbler origins. Which isn’t bad, but don’t try being something that you’re not.

Like me? I don’t try to sing and dance. Not in public, anyway. Careful about what facts you present as factual, and what is clearly, or should be, clearly labelled as fiction.

Sagittarius: Mistakes that cost? Nearly every other year, I trot out the old “editorial” mistake. Perfect Mercury moment, and one we’d all like to forget about. Not going to happen. The mistake was one letter.

“Beatings will continue until the moral improves.” (Sagittarius, 6/12/2000) Should’ve been, “Beating will continue until the morale improves.” Which is a sign we had hanging here at the office during those formative years.

Perfect, no? Except, when Mercury does this and the editor, unaccustomed to my idiom, left that one letter out. The back and forth on that was amusing. In the rarefied air of New York City, the saying could go either way. Mercury. He can go either way, too. As of this moment, though, he’s kind of backwards, and kind of messing things up. In a big way?

Something as simple as one letter, that wouldn’t change, too much, would it? Maybe it makes sense in the hallowed halls of (something). Doesn’t make a lot of sense to me, but that’s just me. Hence the problem. Translation, double check your own work, don’t get worked up over little items. Can be costly, but can also be vastly amusing.

Capricorn: It’s a numbers game. Plain and simple. It’s function of quantity, to get to the quality. Numbers, plain and simple.

More numbers, better odds. More spins of the roulette wheel? More chances at winning. More tumbles of the dice? Better chance of a winning roll.

More (something) — better chance of (something).

I mapped this one out, and for lack of better words, get a shovel. Get a truck. Get a truckload. It takes a huge amount to cover the necessary odds. Lots of material? Have to cover a lot of ground to get “there” from “here.”

Can you do it? Yes. Quite simple, really. Just remember that it’s a numbers game. More is better. More means you can sift through what’s left over, later. Plain and simple, it’s a numbers game. More is better. Too much is best.

Aquarius: Modified symbolism is at work. Blame Mercury, blame me, blame the planets. Whatever.

It’s just, like, for me, anyway, for me, a snake isn’t scary. Doesn’t bother me. Unless I’ve ascertained for sure that the snake isn’t deadly, I still tend to give the snake a little extra room. No need to crowd the snake.

As humankind encroached on the local snakes’ natural habit, drainage ditches and creek bottoms became home to more of the reptiles. There’s a nature about a snake, too, something that I’m familiar with, and that I’m friendly with, which goes against the traditional Western/Christian interpretation. Which is what this is about. Consider the “biblical” version of the snake. Then think about the snake as more as a symbolism of rebirth, sheds its skin, gets bigger and new, all over again.

There’s a very spring-like feeling, it’s not traditional symbolism, but I think, for now, a new set of symbols is required. Time for a little slithering in a good way. Consider some kind of modified symbolism to fit your lifestyle. Shedding old growth for new stuff, improved stuff.

Pisces: There was an emblem of two fish, sort of a local water authority’s logo, and I kept thinking of “Pisces Power!” Not the power of Pisces, but “Pisces Power!” The two fish, maybe they glow.

You’re normal power is accentuated, fine-tuned and sharpened. Mr. Jupiter, by Jove, is lending you extra ability. Full Moon, too, more good stuff. Everything is nice. Except for Mercury being backwards. In Taurus. Just bothersome.

But you’ve got “Pisces Power!” The emblematic two fish better than one fish, the ability to leap a tall building in a single bound. I’d prefer to think of more like a fish jumping. The emblem, perhaps it’s a logo, but that two-fish symbolism is kind of the way it works. Two Pisces, together, can overcome whatever obstacles are there.

Aries: One metaphorical image I’ve played with is that of pottery. Take clay, which, to me, looks like dirt and water mixed up together, mud, essentially, and fire it in a kiln. Makes hardened pottery, which can be used to store food, cook food, hold cut flowers, any number of uses, both practical and decorative.

Earth elements, fired. With the pottery artists I’ve known, the term is “fired.”

Mercury is a-firing at you right now. Or you, being the fire sign, you’re firing that Mercury, which is in Taurus this next few days. Retrograde, in Taurus.

I’ve only seen the giant kilns the pottery students use, I’ve never handled that kind of material. I’ll assume that, right after the process, the — whatever — was fired? It’s probably hot. Maybe too hot to touch. You’re the fire, and Mr. Mercury is getting heated up.

Instead of rushing in to grab the first piece of the weekly puzzle?

Stop.

Don’t grab anything just yet. Let whatever is Mercury fired at this moment? Let that cool off, first.