Horoscopes starting 7.29.1010

“It is the stars,
The stars above us, govern our conditions.”
Shakespeare’s King Lear [IV.iii.32-3]

Jupiter RX at 3° Aries opposite Mars Conjunct Saturn at 3° Libra, Square Pluto at 3° Capricorn.

Leo: Best muse, ever?

Guilt. No, I mean it. What works better than trying to figure out a story to keep from getting in trouble for something that has already happened and the culpable party? Might be ourselves. See what I mean?

Guilt works better than a whole host of positive attributes. Calliope, Erato, Euterpe, Terpsichore, all of those. Even, sometimes, sex. Although, that could be the source of guilt. What were you thinking? Wouldn’t get caught? You’re now warned, either forewarned, or this caught up with you a little too late, but either way, the options for Leo are simple. Either don’t do it — whatever it is that can get you in trouble. Or, simpler? This week? Don’t get caught.

Guilt. If you do get caught, or even if it looks like you might get caught? You’ll find out just what a great muse Guilt can be.

Virgo: “I don’t know, Kramer, you just always, like, you look like a tourist, not a tourist, but you always have on a Hawaiian shirt.” A worker at a counter where I do frequent business. “You’re always, upbeat, you know, like you don’t care.”

I’m not a Virgo. She was, but that’s not the point. I do worry but I have tendency to appear more upbeat even though there seems to be dark rumblings in the near future. Even now.

The dark rumblings that you’re hearing? While it might have some effect on your life, I’m predicting that it will pass by. Not without some collateral damage, but pretty harmless, mostly. Looking at the Cardinal Cross occurring, looking at the great changes sweeping the infrastructure of business? Looking at the finicky world of Virgo? You’re going to be fine, this week. Try my attitude and upbeat attire to ward off the negative spirits.

Libra: Where I live, I don’t have to look far for inspiration. There’s a clash of cultural bias. Hispanic, Latino, Mestizo, Native, European, Chicano, African-American, just about everything. The heaviest influence, more ways than any other, is obviously Mexican. That’s where I get the best inspiration, In part, I am a total outsider. No formal training in the language or the social moiré — or any training, for what it’s worth. Not that it matters.

The colors are the predominate influence, in my world. There’s an earthen, almost ochre, shade, umber, or something similar. It’s called “enchilada red,” and it’s used for building, trim, signs, everywhere. I passed a building the other afternoon, a pale kind of sickly yellow, but the trim was that brilliant “enchilada red.” Cheery. Perked me right up.

A color that no self-respecting Anglo could carry off. Yeah, I’m being slightly judgmental, but that’s part of the point, because we all are. Cultural bias, country of origin, background. Some personal point of reference.

As Saturn makes cozy in Libra? Nothing could be more useful than a sense of wonder. Wonder and amazement. Just because it’s your home town? Doesn’t mean there isn’t something new and wonderful to see. Be amazed. Embrace the sense of wonder. Set aside the gentle Libra sense of taste and embrace that wonderment.

Scorpio: I can’t make this stuff up. Downtown, there’s the local water board. Water services for the city. County, really, I think. Walked by one afternoon, intent on getting a cool iced shot of coffee. Water was bubbling up from a hole in the tarmac. The pavement was beginning to buckle. Water main broke on Main, in front of the water department.

If that’s not a poignant image, fraught with metaphor and imagery.

Water had to be shut off in the main office, I’m sure. I’d complain, but all I could do was chuckle. Didn’t affect me. I did have to step around uncharacteristic water puddles in the middle of the downtown street, and I paused once while a truck went through one of the puddles, throwing a spray like a jet-ski.

If I hadn’t paused, I’d be soaked with dirty, muddy water. And I’d be pissed. However, a simple pause, I saw the truck coming, a simple pause, all I did was wait until the puerile driver splashed his way through the puddle. Broken water main on Main in front of the water department. Or soaked by a jerk driving a big truck? Which one?

How about like me, you just pause.

You can see this coming. Pause.

Sagittarius: As much as many folks would think — and say — other wise, I tend to be a quiet observer of humanity. I was in a big store, grocery shopping, or picking up fishing tackle, I don’t recall exactly. What I saw — I stayed very quiet so as to not offend. It was a fetching lass, more or less, sun dress, sweet sashay. And five-o’clock shadow. Either it was heavy beard on a woman, or it was, guessing from the person’s apparent age, a young and hirsute male, dressed up.

Middle of the summer. No vacation, no rhyme nor reason, no party that I know of, not a special parade that week. There was a heavy layer of base, pancake, makeup — didn’t cover the whiskers. Stubble. I’m all for equal rights and equal presentation, but I was trying not to giggle, gawk and gape. I finally turned my eyes down, to avoid being more of a jerk. I wasn’t trying to be difficult, or sarcastic, not judging, just couldn’t help myself. I just report what I saw.

This scene came to mind when I was looking at our collective Sagittarius charts. There are times when avoiding a confrontation, even though our Sagittarius selves think a comment is required?

Don’t. Eyes down. Suppress the smirk. The caustic little comment? Not a good idea. There’s a time and place to enjoy the funny comments. Now isn’t one of them.

Capricorn: Real estate terms that haven’t changed? Cozy means small. Quaint means weird. Easy access? Right next to a busy thoroughfare. Best one of all? Lots of potential. Means it’s tear down only no one has been kind enough to do that.

It’s important to recall and remember these terms — and they don’t just apply to real estate. There’s also a similar set of terms used in online dating. Modesty prohibits me from using them as an example, but I’m sure you’ve seen the references.

These are all polite lies we tell ourselves, or advertising. Advertising that isn’t always, exactly, truthful. I tend to favor that, “Easy access,” line. Easy access? How about right underneath a freeway on-ramp? Hope that’s easy enough.

There are two ways this works. First off, there’s the gullible Capricorn. I know a few. Not many, but a few. You’d buy that advertising, those lame lines that still work. Still would work. More likely, though, I would tend to see you as the predatory Capricorn. Using those lines, that lame advertising, “It’s a quaint location, with easy access to many future amenities…” Means it’s tiny, cramped, odd layout and “future amenities?” That means a mall is being built right next door. But they haven’t broken ground yet.

Which part of this are you on? Can you avoid it altogether? Maybe just be brutally honest.

Aquarius: “Wait,” the stoplight intoned, “wait.” It was almost eery, except, to me, it’s not. It’s an intersection, busy one, downtown, and there’s speaker box attached to the “walk” sign. Push the button when the “stop” light is flashing, and the box has this bizarre rhythm, speaking its message, “Wait.”

Two-count, maybe a three count, four if you’re in a hurry, and on a downtown street, who isn’t in a hurry? Me, but I’m a little different.

Hot summer’s day. Busy intersection, the pedestrian light telling me to wait. Ordering. Commanding. Almost got on my nerves one time. Another time, I thought I should record the voice. The last time? I thought about Aquarius. Sun is in the sign opposite you. Not bad, not good, not anything.

Wait. Like the pedestrian crosswalk light suggests.

Wait. There’s a tremendous amount of pressure building, elsewhere.

Wait. The symbolism is obvious, you can dash across the street against the sign’s wishes, but there a two distinct risks. One, it is illegal and cops do write tickets. Second risk? Far more important — you could get run down by a careless car.

Wait. Like the annoying sign says.

Pisces: Me and the national something-something bureau of weather predictions don’t always agree. To be more honest, they don’t really pay attention to an astrologer like me. Not that it matters. We are in the same business: predictions. Looking at existing trends and extrapolating a possible outcome.

I’d warn you about hurricane season. In the Gulf, that big moon-shaped body of water south of us? In the Gulf of Mexico, hurricane season started in July, and while it goes until the end of November, there’s no record of any Gulf Hurricanes after October. Pretty much done with by Halloween (Samhain). That’s also an indication of what’s ahead — still.

Hurricane season is going to be rough on Pisces. I already have a hurricane kit and I don’t even live on the coast. I bought a couple of cases of water. Some beef jerky. Granola bars. Left it all in the closet, and I’m ready for a natural disaster.

Are you prepared? Locally, I’ve written about this before, but at the big warehouse stores? Bottled water, as a hurricane draws closer, or just the threat? Bottled water doubles, then triples, in price. Buy ahead of time. Or after the last threat was over, which is what I did. Got it cheap. Prepared, that’s me. As a Pisces, you know that there’s a hurricane-type storm brewing. How prepared are you?

Aries: I can — to this day — recall the howl, cackle and shriek of horror as a friend’s niece took one look at my clothing.

Little girl, the niece, must’ve been about fourteen at the time. All young girl and young girl sensibilities, and that 14 year-old attitude. (If you’re fourteen years old and reading this, you are so right. Adults know nothing.)

“You went out with him dressed like that?”

The true horror on the kid’s face made it all plain. Poor judgement on my part. Orange-patterned tropical print shirt and purple plaid shorts, if I recall. Two clothing items that probably don’t belong in the same closet much less on the same person at the same time. Which was why I studiously chose that pairing.

Never underestimate the lack of culpability of an outfit that clashes so well? Never underestimate what that can prevent. Won’t be asked to judge any fashion events, that’s for sure.

What does this have to do with Aries? Lots. Mismatched or poor chosen elements can, instead of advertising my poor taste, they can include a clown-like sense. That’s how to escape. It is so much better to be offensive rather than offended.

Taurus: I’m a writer. The internal monologue never shuts off. I’ve got a text-editor in my brain, and when I’m walking, or working with a client, or fishing? Or shopping? Grabbing a cup of coffee some place? The ideas and observations don’t stop.

I carry a pencil and paper, a phone, a computer, something I can take notes with, almost all the time. Just for such inspirations. The brain doesn’t stop.

I realize you’d like to catch a break. I’d like you to catch a break. Vacation, something. Can’t make it happen. Matter of fact, borrow a page from one of my workbooks, carry some work with you, where ever you go, in the next couple of days. There’s a point, a concentrated burst of energy, and when that hits the individual Taurus? Be ready to work.

Gemini: I was meeting clients for a lunch date. Nice place. Or nice by my standards. Upscale yet casual. The little hostess (Gemini) greeted me. “One?” she asked. “No, three, me and my two (imaginary) girlfriends,” I said.

“Welcome, come along ladies, you too, Kramer.” She seated me. My dates joined me a few minutes later. Typical Gemini response, my invisible girlfriends? Clearly a non-issue for that Gemini hostess.

Greeted by the oddball astrologer and his imaginary harem? What are you going to do?

Play along. That’s how we all make it through this week.

Play along. Take it all in Gemini stride. Just like that hostess. “Sure ladies, this way, please.” Tough planets call for some kind of action. Humoring us? Some times, the non-Gemini people? That’s all we need from a Gemini like yourself, a little humoring.

Play along.

Cancer: “I trust my dog,” a friend was explaining, “and I like my dog’s method, ‘Eat it.’ If it’s not good? Throw it up.” I can’t suggest that methodology, not exactly. Yet, there’s an indication that the dog has the right idea. Taste, sample, ingest, pick, pop, or otherwise find out if something that looks good? Find out if it is good. Only one real way to handle that, sample it.

I’d differ from the dog in that I’d suggest small bite at first, but that’s just me, and my delicate sensibilities. I wouldn’t chew up the whole thing and wolf it down. The dog tries it. Hands on, so to speak. That dog just sort of chomps a time or two, then swallows. If the item isn’t digestible? Winds up in the backyard someplace. No harm, no foul.

Nose it, nudge it with your Cancer snout. Maybe nibble a little, see if it is something that belongs in your mouth. I mean, if it smells bad? We can just assume that you don’t want to follow through with all the dog-like actions. With what’s happening, though? The planets?

A hands-on, or better yet, in-your-face approach is good. The dog? He’s got the right idea. Just chomp and swallow. If it doesn’t belong? You know what happens. Self-evident.