For the week starting: 9.9.2010

“This lord … wears his wit in his belly and guts in his head …”
Thersites in Shakespeare’s Troilus and Cressida [II.i.69]

Virgo: I easily realize it’s a stereotype. I understand that the concept of perfectly good, if used, household appliances, lining the streets, it’s not popular. But there it was. One of the places I walk past.

The first day? Sign said, “Free.”

Next day? Still there, but the sign was gone.

Third day? Since no one is interested in free stuff? Sign said, “$50.”

Fourth day? It was gone. I don’t know what happened. Says something about the general population. I know this from own business dealings, the terms “Free” carries little value. Folks want it but don’t value it.

Now, as the Virgo type, and what with birthdays and a no longer retrograde Mercury? What’s the easiest way to get that old appliance hauled off? It was a stove, you know, perfectly good, electrical stove, just not the latest and greatest. “Free”? That didn’t work. I suppose this is simple psychology, but free carries no value therefore, it isn’t worth it. Put a price on it. Watch that sucker disappear.

Libra: I was in a friend’s backyard, cool fall breezes stirring the quiet West Texas evening. It was going to get chilly that evening, I remember that.

After Labor Day weather, still hot in the day but cooling at night. There’s a bird feeder, a new one, upright at the end of the yard. “I filled that this morning, already down, what an inch?” He asked, pointing at the feeder, “Hey, watch this.” A Mourning Dove landed on the top of the bird feeder, a roughly conical, polished aluminum roof to house the seeds and feeds. The dove gripped once, a second time and then slide right off the edge, taking flight at the same time.

Another dove landed, slipped right off the feeder’s roof. I pointed out that if my old cat could catch a Mourning Dove, then the birds, as a species, were none too bright. My buddy agreed. Imagine that you’ve been playing like that Mourning Dove contingent, landing at my buddy’s bird feeder. Slipping right off the roof, no grip.

It affords no purchase. You see fellow Libra type slip right off that roof. There’s two options, follow in their footsteps, so to speak, or better yet, just go straight to the feeding tray. Less dancing around the issue and more direct approach. Whether this is about bird seed or some other issue, landing on the edges, like those doves sliding of the top? Time to be more direct.

Scorpio: I got into a discussion about ethnic foodstuffs. Southern Cooking, as opposed to just southern cooking. “Respect the hog,” I was thinking, as a tag-line for most of the better Southern Cooking.

Buddy of mine, his name is, oddly enough, “Bubba,” was talking about a time the truck he was driving broke down in front of a tiny Southern Cooking place. There’s an ethnic component — archetype or stereotype — I’m unwilling to address. However, the food? Beans, yardbird, BBQ, sausage, cornbread freshly baked and liberally slathered with butter, it was all there. Sweet Tea. The heady aroma of greens with a ham hock floating in the mix. Just good stuff.

Can’t eat it every day. The way he described his situation, truck broke down, he was just going to wait it out until he noticed the food. Small line, small shack, big portions. Not everyone finds comfort and solace in red beans, dirty rice, greens, Sweat Tea, cornbread, baked/fried chicken, grits, and so forth.

Venus and Mars arrive in Scorpio. Might be a delay. Are you close to a source of some kind comfort food? Or succor of some sort? Can you avail yourself of that kind of comfort, be it food — or some other — endearing Scorpio quality?

Sagittarius: In Anthony, Texas, there’s a pink trailer house. Sits on the line. I’m not kidding — it was repainted bright pink. Anthony itself is a weird one, it’s on the line between Texas and New Mexico, and Anthony straddles that line, right on the Interstate, the great, southern juggernaut between Florida and the Left Coast. The trail bends around the southern flank of the Franklin Mountains, the tail-end of the Rockies, really. Then that route curves around the western flank, headed north. Out of El Paso and into New Mexico.

There’s Anthony, TX. Or Anthony, NM.

That trailer park, it’s a famous one — in local lore — for sitting right on the state line. Last time through there? Looked like the pink trailer was right on the line. I might be wrong. I never claimed accuracy in most of my observations. However, like that trailer which appears to sit on a line? Sagittarius is teetering hither and yon, right on the line.

Could go either way, what with first slice of a moon appearing right next to Saturn. It’s a turning point. It’s a tipping point, to use a well-worn metaphor. Which side of the line are you leaning towards? I’d wait until this next few days is past and let the moon fill out just a little before you decide which side of that line you think you want to be on. Might change as more data is incoming.

Capricorn: Cap Buddy of mine was moving. His company was paying for the move so there were these two huge, burly, largely hispanic gentlemen who showed up with a large truck. Packing material, gloved, dollies, everything. Nice guys. I was there to lend moral support because, you know, I have a bad back or something, when it comes to moving and so forth.

Manual labor doesn’t extend to loading heavy furniture. I was making light conversation with the two movers. Cool guys, I think it was the “Two guys with a big truck” company. I asked about the easiest way to move. Pushing out a large piece of furniture, one of the workers said, “Easiest? For us? Just call someone else.”

It was comical, in a weird way, he was glad to be working, but then, it was arduous work, at best. That pair of movers? Remarkably efficient and it was clear, from their delicate dance, they had done this, together for a while. One would kick open the door, and the other would catch it with his foot. Tag team. Sort of a modern version of ballet and power-lifting. Or something like that.

This is about working together. Not really about moving. My Cap buddy, he had the luxury of a professional moving team. Hire professionals. It’s just much easier. Who would you call? “Someone else, man, be easiest for us.”

Aquarius: For years, the promoter I worked with in the El Paso area, he would haul out a “crystal skull,” and set it up on display at the event. First off, it’s no really a crystal skull. It’s carved out of a crystal-like mineral that escapes my mind at the moment. Fluorite, maybe?

That skull was machine cut, just across the border, in a sweat shop in Juarez, I’d guess. An oversized trinket with good marketing behind it. Real psychics that I’ve worked alongside for years, none of them could pick up anything from that hunk of carved mineral. Doesn’t stop the marketing push. The deal was, is, someone is pushing something on you. How much is pure hype, how much is target-specific (Aquarius) marketing, and how much is real?

The crystal skull — from that movie tie-in — generated great traffic. Real? Imagined? A number of folks still, would gather and fondle the skull, crooning about it’s powers. How much is real and how much is wishful thinking? As an Aquarius, you have to ask yourself….

Pisces: It’s no secret that I love the American Southwest. East Texas, West Texas, New Mexico and Arizona. When I was in El Paso, which is part of the American Southwest, sitting on my friends’ back patio, under the portico, we watched in the evening’s twilight when a late summer storm came whipping through.

Tendrils of rain drifted in from the Pacific, under the clouds, as the storm rolled eastward, rain was falling, but not always hitting the ground. The storm blew over the Rio Grande Valley, and the wind whipped up.

I moved further under the patio’s cover. Rain drops slammed into the house, the backyard. Looking out, the rain was falling at a 45 degree angle. Airborne mud, as the dust was swirling up and the reluctant rain was angrily giving up moisture, albeit not without a fight. Further west, this weather is called “monsoon season.” The rain didn’t last fifteen minutes.

In East Texas, it wouldn’t even be called “rain.” The smell of the wet earth, that ozone-rich aroma of water in the air permeated the surroundings for a few moments. Jupiter and Uranus are playing tag. It’s like that Southwestern rain.

Aries: “Jalapeño poppers” are made and served in a variety of ways. Typically the ones in the store or chain restaurant? Peppers stuffed with cheese, breaded and deep-fried. They’re okay. As it’s just a skin, though, I find some of the “heat” is missing. Might just be me.

One of my buddy’s has a recipe I’ll pass along: take the pepper, slice it sideways, scrape out the seeds, stuff the cheese in, then wrap a piece of bacon around it, hold that bacon in place with a toothpick. Some places do this, but it’s a labor intensive process. That’s just a warning. Most places then slap that popper on the grill. Or on the griddle. Some of the bacon is burned, other parts are raw, or, at least, under-cooked.

However, back to Bubba, his great idea? He popped those poppers in his smoker. He prefers hickory where I would tend to use mesquite, but that’s a regional difference. His poppers, out of the smoker? Perfect. There’s also my variation, I’d slit the peppers, but leave the seeds in, to add fuel and flavor. Again, regional and personal preferences.

Ten years and a little innovation has gone into this recipe. And it’s still open to interpretation. But smoking, instead of frying, that’s kind of the secret.

Fast cooking? Works for some.

Aries? Not so much.

Slow, smoked goodness is the secret to what’s going on.

Taurus: We. Are. Adding. Punctuation. Not exactly grammatically correct, but then, grammar’s never been a long suit here, either.

Worried? As Mercury unlimbers from an apparent retrograde pattern and as Mars and Venus move towards a position that’s opposite you? I kept thinking about Mars and Venus as superfluous punctuation. Added for emphasis.

Added. For. Emphasis.

Not exactly required, but then, not exactly unwelcome. It’s that extra, kind of showy, perhaps a bit towards going “over the top,” but then again, not quite. But almost. A good grammar person will recoil in horror. That’s the point. That’s what’s up. That’s the point. Mars and Venus are gong to trigger some reaction from you. Deal with it. Instead of turning this into an obstacle, though? Instead of making his more difficult than it needs to be?

Consider these interruption, consider the influence of Mars and Venus as punctuation. Maybe extra stops, maybe a comma that’s out of place, but still. Stop and assess instead of blindly erasing the bad grammar marks.

Gemini: “Please Use Other Door,” what the sign said. Arrow, underneath the lettering, pointed to the right. It was a commercial building and I needed in, but I looked at the sign, and just turned to the right.

A guy behind me, another potential customer, he went up to the door, read the sign, and then reached out and gave the handle a good pull. Had to try, anyway.

Due to the clarity of the glass on the door I could easily see that the door handle on he inside was removed, and I was guessing, accurately, that the door was locked.

“Ain’t rocket surgery,” as I’m inclined to observe.

The next entrance down? Worked just fine. There was a harried employee there, muttering about locksmiths, and I would guess, them darn kids. Point is, my fine Gemini friend, are you going to heed the signs? It’s simple detour. Not more than fifteen paces out of your way. A clearly labelled sign suggests that the door isn’t working.

Get the clue? Doesn’t work. Isn’t going to work. Can’t get through here. Are you still going to try the handle, anyway? Your choice. I’m telling you it won’t work, and allow for that detour. Got it?

Cancer: In Austin the typical street musician will have a guitar. Maybe some other instrument like a drum or tambourine. I watched, I was on the South side of San Antonio, and the street musicians were “Picking and pulling.” Old School Conjunto. That’s what they called it. Picking? Guitar. Pulling? Accordion. Squeezebox. German instrument that’s now a mainstay of Mexican music.

It’s all about what’s “normal” wherever you are. I was touched by the conjunto buskers. I paused, unzipped from the iPod, and I listened to the banter. The songs. The high, keening vocal harmony, slightly off. For all my wandering, I’d never been exposed to “picking and pulling,” although, as it turns out, it’s a fairly common musical type.

Above the Nueces Strip, below Austin. A no-man’s musical land. With roots that stretch from South America to Northern Europe, it’s no wonder that there’s a small disconnect from reality as to actual sources. Maybe this is all abut music. Maybe about local busking. Maybe, though, and here’s what I was hoping to get across, as Mercury uncoils from its tightly-wound position? Maybe this more about pausing long enough to listen to street performances, wherever you are.

The Leo: There’s always an element of confusion associated with Mercury being backwards. That lingers on through this next week.

Bad? Or just amusing. I tend to find this amusing, but that’s me.

While I also tend to stay away from names, my buddy’s name, well, his name is “Bubba,” but his Christian name is Ken. His wife, one of my friends, introduced him to an aging grandmother. According to Ken, that grandmother, she knew his name. She was, at the time, a little hard of hearing. So’s Bubba, but that’s not the question.

He explained how the grandmother kept saying his name, “Ken.” Not really, what she was saying? “Quien?” Border patois for “Who?” As a useless piece of trivia, one of the names from TV’s golden era? Quien Sabe? Some might remember as the name Kemosabe. Never mind, useless trivia. Has nothing to do with the confusion left by Bubba’s other name, Ken. Which is what this is all about.

It’s not a deal-breaking piece of confusion. In context, it was both cute and endearing because the grandmother was shouting , “Who,” while the English speakers assumed it was just Bubba (Ken). Good for a laugh. Unless, of course, you’re name is Ken and no one seems to know your name — might be a problem.

“Ken.”

“Quien?”