Horoscopes for the week starting 7.22.2010

“Thou disputes like an infant.
Go whip thy gig.”
Shakespeare’s Love’s Labor’s Lost [V.i.60]

Holofernes to Moth. Sun Moves into Leo, Saturn opposes Uranus.

Leo: Happy birthday. The mighty July Leo’s, you guys all have birthdays rapidly approaching. Good news. Celebrate, have fun. Got a full moon coming up, party time.

Now, the point that needs to be hammered home?

Stop.

Making.

This.

Difficult.

The phrase reminded me of a slight;y dated yet applicable Talking Heads album, one that was, in its time, a proper album, and not just a CD. Or worse yet, jut digital music. Stop Making Sense was both a CD and a tour movie, or live movie, and while the material wasn’t exactly ground-breaking, it was pop with a heart.

Either the last of the New Wave, or the first of the post-punk genre, the sound was bright and the music was clever. What does a does the title of a pop recording that is 25 years-old have to do with a the Leo making something difficult on his or her self? Made you stop. Made you think. Made you look. Made you pause. Then, the problem that was a problem at that moment? Gone. No longer a problem, except in your Leo mind. Which was the point. Stop making sense. Or? Stop making this difficult.

Virgo: What’s your price? Don’t be coy, everyone has a price. For me? I’m kind of hard to get an accurate value, not easy to determine what the rate is, or should, be.

One place, the restaurant manager, I suppose this is a giveaway, a telltale clue, but I was bought off with a half rack of pork ribs and couple of slices of brisket.

Hate to be cheap, but now we know. Fortunately, that was good stuff. Another place, I was given a T-shirt as an offering for a mention. Not nearly good enough. It’s all about the quality.

My price? If it’s good? Pork ribs and brisket, maybe some beans, cole slaw, and potato salad. Got to be good, though. I was wondering while Mercury is in the entrance to Virgo, Mars is at the exit, and Venus is somewhere in between, what’s the price for a Virgo, these days?

Libra: I bought one of those little notebooks, the famous brand, and I used it to log miles. Pedestrian miles, for a while, and there’s several years of daily hikes, logged by certain landmarks, approximate distance, time, and so forth.

After the first year or so, the cute and useful elastic strap broke. Came unglued. From that point, onward, I used the elastic strap as a bookmark. While it was still useful, I grew a little leery of that one brand’s “trademarked” notebook design because I experienced a failure. Means I couldn’t trust that the little elastic band would hold the notebook shut. Still, it’s a cool design, and better yet? Excellent “viral” marketing. However, this also points to another problem. I’ll buy a notebook, swear I’m going to write a diary, and it never happens.

I’m too used to the keyboard. I can’t even use a standard typewriter. Between the notebook’s failure, and the fact I can’t work a typewriter, I’m back to where I started.

As Saturn enters Libra with a bang? Instead of doing like I do, and keep on buying blank notebooks I never use? Or typewriters? Stop. I used exactly two of the notebooks I bought. No more. Same for typewriters, but that’s a different tale.

Scorpio: You are primed for my favorite kind of shopping. Right now. This week. I tend to favor a single shade in my T-shirt selection: basic black. I’ve also used a charcoal gray, and the Midnight Black, in addition to the various other stages of black: inky, double-dark, roasted and before-dawn.

By sticking to black, I don’t have to worry about what matches what. I don’t have to worry about whether or not the color will go with my outfit, or match my sandals, or whatever it is that fashion-conscious people worry about.

I stick to black. Easier for me. Not so good in summer sun, but summer evenings? Just fine. I’d suggest that this is a time to shop for T-shirts, like I do. I was in a sporting goods store, looking at this one fishing rod? It was too expensive, and I’m waiting until that brand of fishing rod goes on sale. I can’t see spending that kind of money for fishing gear. However, on my way out of the store? I noticed a pile of T-shirts, “5 for $10!”

Caught my attention, that’s two bucks apiece. That’s a price I can afford. I stocked up. I had to dig, and I’m unsure of how the shirts will hold up. Doesn’t much matter, though. Not at that price. For $2? I don’t care. Didn’t get what I wanted, but I did get a deal. That’s what I mean about it’s time for some Scorpio shopping. Deals. Got to be a deal.

Sagittarius: I started in North Texas, drifted around the American Southwest, landed in back in Texas, made a home and career in Austin, then I started wandering a little bit. Not much, just like flotsam in the river? I’ve drifted towards the coast.

Fewer shoes, fewer times in long pants. Consider, too, I was drifting, not really pointed in a specific direction, just carried along like driftwood, or other trash, washed up on the beach.

Not exactly rudderless, but certainly appearing so.
Not lost, but appearing that way.
Not bereft of direction, but looking like that.

It’s a gradual drift in a southerly direction for me. I like beach. I like fishing, but most of all, I like that beach attitude. Barefoot on the beach. Shorts and tropical print shirts, sun, sand, surf. Times like this? With the Cardinal Cross really kicking some serious stuff around?

Times like this require a Sagittarius to have some sense of a direction. I didn’t say for sure what the ultimate goal was, not now, but a sense of direction, a gradual shift in a way.

What might appear to be aimless wandering? Is it really? Is there barely discernible direction? Like me, there seems to be a lot of aimless wandering. That’s not what this is about. It’s about our apparent gentle drifting towards a goal. Maybe not clear to everyone, but who cares? It is clear to us.

Capricorn: I have skewed perspective. For much of my career, this career, my work week was Saturday and Sunday. Which meant Monday was like my Friday, and then Tuesday was my Sunday and Wednesday-Friday was extra time to spend as I saw fit. Every week was a three day work-week.

Alas, all good things frequently come to an end, and my idyllic schedule contracted and expanded. Besides, I have a hard time turning it on and off. I can’t just be expected to show up and do the metaphysical dance, the live readings, without there being some toll on the soul.

I’d like for you to have a two-day work week like I once enjoyed. Probably not going to happen any time too soon. Looks like you’re going to be more like my current state where I work on one set of goals during the work week, another project consumes my afternoons, and I still have odd weekends that require travels and appearances. From two-day work weeks to seven-day work weeks? In this time? Is that really so bad?

Aquarius: There’s a place on my heel where the skin has dried and split several times. Infected, painful, painless, unnoticed, untreated, and then, from one extreme to the other? I used every type of emollient and unguent I could find. Eventually, what worked best was some stuff I found in a “seed and feed” store: horse hoof care.

Whatever works, right*? The problem being, I’ve now got, from repeated mistreatment, a small tattoo. The split collected dirt and then healed over, leaving me with a small tattoo. Not on purpose. While I am a big fan of some ink, I never could settle on a particular design. Not a permanent design. True, there’s that lyric from a song, but even then, the design?

I’m mutable, choices change. However, I do, inadvertently, have a tattoo. Really just dirt, more like soot, under the skin, but the effect is the same. It’s a small, permanent mark, mostly from a lack of care. I suppose, if it worried me, I could get it scraped off and scrubbed out. Energy required for that outweighs the concern that I’ve got an involuntary tattoo on my foot. You have to ask yourself, is it worth the effort? No, really, is worth the effort to erase one mistake?

*Tastes good too, for those of us inclined to put our feet in our mouth.

Pisces: Technically, there are only two inner planets, Mercury and Venus. However, I tend to include Mars in that mix, as well, since Mars behaves very much the same way, albeit, moving slightly slower.

Mars, Venus and eventually, Mercury all wind up opposite you, in the next seven days. None of that is a big deal, but it does indicate that a total of three little deals could get together and try to make you miserable. You only have to be as miserable as you want to be, though, and that kind of planetary opposition? It’s not bad. Put it to good use. Pretend that the planets are urging you to consider a stale situation from an entirely new perspective.

The car, a classic, was up on twin ramps, in the front yard. Dusty front yard. Weren’t any chickens in the yard, but there could’ve been, in fact, there are, a few blocks over. Buddy — not named Bubba — was scooting out from under the front end of the car.

“Think I got it, and we won’t have to drop the transmission to get to it,” he said. It was just matter of looking at a leaking gasket from a different point of view.

Aries: Many of my friends are rather conversant with various forms of (personal) armament. Bunch of my friends and neighbors are gun nuts. Makes for interesting conversation when watching a TV show with Hollywood bullets. I counted as an automatic rifle (machine gun) spit out a burst that would empty its magazine — in real life. Character shooting? Doesn’t change magazine, i.e., doesn’t reload, just keeps on firing.

My one buddy, he gets all kind of bent out of shape about the reality — or lack of reality — in the movies, on TV.

“Hollywood guns,” he explained, “are different. Holds a lot more ammo. Hits the target more often, too. Better kill shots.”

As an Aries, you’re hoping that you have revolver that will hold, maybe, looks like you’ll need a dozen bullets to accomplish what you’re trying to do. The problem? Is this Aries Land or is this the make-believe world of TV and movies? Celluloid reality, paper bullets? Magical firearms that never run out of ammunition?

That’s the problem.

Here, in the real world, in Aries land? Can’t count on that revolver holding anymore than six bullets. Is that enough? Or do you have to pause and reload?

Unlike the movies.

Taurus: There’s a street corner, not far from here, and the landlord — maybe just a tenant — a long time forgotten — planted roses. The rose bushes are mature. Stately, elegant, and old. Almost like a dense swarm on that one corner. Most of the roses are pink. Variation and shading might exist, but for the most part, the predominate shade was pink.

If I catch that patch at the right time, in the afternoon, the most brilliant of the roses will be backlit. Late afternoon, as the sun arches overhead, started on kind of its downward slide towards sunset — I’ve tried to catch the image of the backlit pink rose on many occasions, I’ve been completely unsuccessful in capturing the delicate hues, the subtle shading, the way the single rose, or maybe two of them, the way the sunlight illuminates the scene.

I’m convinced it can’t be done. Not that kind of backlit image. I tried again, the other afternoon, with the cell phone camera. Didn’t work. Again. Just doesn’t capture that essence of the backlit pink rose. That bloom itself will be gone in a day or two, anyway. Very ephemeral. It’s an image I’m unable to capture.

Limited by technology, hardware, schedule, timing and place. I can describe the image, you have a mind’s eye version of it now, the backlit pink rose. We both now know it can’t be captured on film. Or on the digital equivalent that I use. I gave up on capturing that one image. I discovered my limits. Limits can be technological, artistic, emotional, or simply not being at the right corner at the right time. As you explore your limits? Don’t be afraid to do like I did: give up on certain images. Or goals — something clearly not obtainable.

Gemini: In our politically correct world? I still don’t get why there are pregnancy warnings in the mens’ bathrooms. Must’ve been a bar I was in, I’m not too sure, but I’ve seen this several places. Bars, restaurants, one BBQ joint I know.

The sign, it’s in a bathroom that is clearly intended for males, and the sign admonishes about the health risks of alcohol and pregnancy. Like, “If you’re pregnant or breast feeding, you shouldn’t drink too much.” Or something like that. If you’re pregnant or breast feeding, you shouldn’t be in a bar’s men’s bathroom, in the first place.

A good Gemini could come up with a likely scenario that would make it all make sense. I’m not going to give it a try. Equal right, or something. I have no idea what that kind of warning sign is doing posted in a bathroom that no self-respecting female would ever enter.

I also seriously doubt the efficacy of the warning signs for the males, the potential mates. Coupling, if not pregnancy, might be one of the goals of the alcohol. As a Gemini, what with the heavy influences and oppositions, like Virgo stuff? Careful about posting signs where the damn, fool signs make no sense whatsoever.

Cancer: What little research I’ve done into this one topic, it’s not “gospel,” so the data is I’m submitting is suspect. Means I’m not a reliable and verified source for what I’m about posit as a thesis.

Tobacco, particularly cigarettes, has a physical addiction that lasts 48 hours. What I’ve seen, scientific studies and so forth? The actual addiction to tobacco is gone in 48 hours. The emotional dependency lasts much longer. Lifetimes, or so it would seem. Seems like there’s a whole industry to support quitting tobacco.

What’s missing is the clue, and that’s what I’m all about. The physical dependency? Over in 48 hours. After that, it’s just toxins washing out of the system.

Do your own research, and you’ll find that you’ve been as mislead about the cure as you have about the sickness itself. I’m all in favor you doing whatever it is that you need to do to get better. Now is as good a time as any to start looking. But the facts, do you have all the facts?