Fishing Guide to the Stars starting 1.27.2011

“These tiding nip me, I hang the head
As flowers with frost or grass beat down with storms.”
Shakespeare’s Titus Andronicus [IV.iv.72-3]

Aquarius: Happy birthday! Do so love me my little Aquarius buddies, and all of ya’ll, to a letter, all of ya’ll have some Mars action. This is like a super punctuation mark. Like using three exclamation marks instead of just one. Like this!!! Not like this! See the difference? One is excessive and effusive while the other more grammatically correct. There’s almost a cartoon-like quality, looks like a hand-lettered “graphic novel,” which in its day, we just called comic books. Although, the story line was tightly plotted, and the action was dramatic enough to qualify as a good piece of literature, still, the pulp-like antecedents regulated that type of media to a relatively low-brow status. This isn’t about literature, low-brow or high-brow. This is about excessive punctuation due to Mr. Mars, and what it means. My first really good writing coach suggested that sentence should carry enough punch do what punctuation like an exclamation mark was supposed to do.

Pisces: I was doing a reading for a client, and I could see, like, her whole life unfold. I had answers and directions, goals, targets, pitfalls, pratfalls, and advice. It was about a hour-long reading, so she got the whole thing on CD, too. I don’t recall any of what I said, I just recall feeling like this was one of the best readings I’d ever done. I managed to hit the vein, like, I was getting a pipeline of information, delivered.

I couldn’t have been more wrong. What I was hitting? I stumbled into a Pisces dreamland where everything was as rosy, cheery and wonderful, like, well, just like a fairy tale. Better, like a sweet and sticky romance novel, girl gets the guy and they live happily ever after, with his (shaved) chest and strong arms with their impossible muscles. Tan, with curly long locks. Just like the lurid cover of the book. I painted this picture and then, nothing. Don’t get confused about dream and the real world, hint: look at Neptune’s influence.

Aries: Lost and forlorn, at the mall. I’d gone by an Apple store to get something, and as I was walking along, I’d stopped long enough to get some mall food at the food court. Awful stuff, but there’s a memory buried in there. Pretzel Bites. I got a medium size cup of the pretzel pieces, and I munched on them as I walked along in the mall. Reminded me of girl. We’d walk along and munch on pretzel bites together. Idyllic and bucolic scene from a simple, middle-American ideal, as exemplified in South Texas. Alone, the food has less flavor. Alone, the scene is much less heart-warming, and alone, it’s just kind of sad. To ameliorate the pain, I stopped at the friendly Apple store, and I cruised along, looking at various new hardware. Nothing I needed, but maybe a trinket or two to assuage that lonely sense, exacerbated by the pretzel bits. Hot out of the mall oven, still, the food did little to palliate the experience. Here’s the hot tip, straight from the food court at the mall: don’t. If it hurts? Don’t do it. If it is not a satisfactory feeling, experience, thing? Then don’t. Simple advice for the current Aries conditions.

Taurus: The average woman uses 6 pounds of lipstick in her lifetime. I was trying to imagine what six pounds of lipstick would look like. Maybe a couple of cubic feet of lipstick? Begs the question, is that lipstick in the case or out of the case? Does that include the little metal tube, plastic delivery device, whatever the manufacturer uses, the container. I have no idea. I’ll suppose that lipstick goes on wet, or looks wet, and sometimes, it has sparkles in it, although, I’m pretty much a fool for that plain old red lipstick that women of certain age can wear. Nothing fancy, just the plain stuff. I’m unsure of where the division is, too, with what’s too young to wear that bright red, and why, at a certain point in life, a woman just naturally fits into those lips. Or lip color. The way I see it, Taurus is a very sensual sign. It’s matter of finding the right way to access and indulge those Taurus sentiments. I’m not sure if the color, shade or texture of lipstick is the best clue, but that’s where I would start looking. Average women will use six pounds in a lifetime. I want to meet this average woman.

Gemini: One of the most remarkable futurists I’ve ever had the pleasure of working with is now a tenured college professor at a University in Texas. He works for part of the UT chain. However, I remember him for lucid moments under the cover of dark, when we discussed future trends. Made him a remarkable resource. As a professor, he’s not in the business of predicting the future, he was merely extracting information from the “zeitgeist” and making abstractions. Horoscopes, to flip this around, are about predicting the future. However, like my professor buddy, it’s matter of looking back to see what’s up ahead. Quick, five point bullet slide presentation of the last five great Gemini trends in the last year. No, year’s too long, last month. Last three weeks, if you can. Five bullet points. Now, let’s look past this coming weekend. Narrow those five bullet points, with lines and arrows, into three, no two, okay, three bullet points. Numbered, 1,2, 3. There. A plan of action. Three points that need attention now.

Cancer: I was toying around with an audio file, some kind of modern-fusion-jazz thing. Sample. Cut. I was interested because it has an asynchronous type of beat. Not even, not steadied, not measured. Made the music hard for me to follow. Just when you think you’re getting in the groove, the bass pauses, and the drummer changes directions. Problems. Means there’s no real rhythm I can bop my head to, and as Cancer Sun Sign? No real beat for this week, either. In my case, maybe this is the best music for me as I am a straight white guy and as such, I have not the gift of rhythm. Way it goes — it’s cultural. I accept my limitations. But the beat goes on, and that’s part of the problem in Cancer Land: no sustainable beat. Just when you think you’re in the groove, the rhythm changes. Beat changes. Direction changes. Instead of getting used to a set of conditions, a certain beat, a familiar rhythm? Be ready for a change. Doesn’t come when you think it should, part of that jazz-fusion-modern music element. Shift it will, just not when you anticipate it. However, now you know.

Leo: It’s January. Texas weather is a fickle one. I’d bemoaned my sorry fate and how I never got a chance to fish anymore. Towards that end, I grabbed a couple of fishing poles and headed out towards a local lake, intent on fishing for something — anything — just to say I’d wet a line. I stopped at a bait shop. The minnow tanks were empty, the only bait to be had was worms. I tried them. Which explains how I was out on the shoreline of a Central Texas lake, in the middle of January, freezing cold in a raincoat and boots, watching a couple of lines in the water. I kept seeing action, so the fish were biting, of course, as I can pick a good time to fish. Like now. Like this weekend. Like Monday and Tuesday of next week. I think I looked a little like a weird Goth Fisherman, all dressed in black, shivering every time I had to reset a line in the water. I spent most of that afternoon feeding fish. Little fish. Sunfish, Bluegills, and so forth. Perch. Hooks I was using were too big for their wee little mouthes, but those fish did dine sumptuously on my worms. Not that it matters, none of it really matters. What this is about is doing one symbolic task, one symbolic goal, taking steps to put your extra fine Leo self in the right place at the right time to make something happen. Show up. Fish. Set the right tone for the rest of the new year.

Virgo: One of my neighbors has a “street sweeper.” That’s, I think his is 12-gauge, sawed-off shotgun with pistol-like grip. In his case, the weapon is legal and registered, so I don’t know how much is factory. I might be off on the terminology, as well, but that’s a term I like to use when we’re talking about weapons. It’s kind of a fun weapon to play with if playing is out in desolate patch of unincorporated terrain, making big things small with rapid-fire buckshot. For me, it’s just amusing to violently shot up innocent objects. The smell of cordite, powder burns and sometimes I’ll catch a nail in a pistol’s slide. Burn fingertips picking up spent shell casings. None of that matters, it’s about having some kind of fun. Fun with a serious side to it. I doubt we’ll ever need a street sweeper, not in earnest. But knowing that there’s one handy? Makes for a more restful slumber. My buddy, his name is not “bubba,” his toys are fun — and more important? Useful. Toys, tools, call them what you will, as far as I’m concerned, the weapons are no more than powerful toys, that could, in a pinch, be used for self-defense. Or, I think he’s got enough firepower, mount a small revolution. Concentrate. While we were having fun taking perfectly good targets and reducing them to shreds? Target practice requires concentration. Like this week. For Virgo. Stay locked on your target.

Libra: Best excuse I’ve heard in a while? “Cat fell asleep on the phone.” Covers the contingencies, exigencies, and my last cat? She could easily cover a phone. Maybe even a regular handset, not just super-small trick phone. Then, too, that cat? If the phone rang, while she was asleep? Probably wouldn’t bother her and the phone would go unanswered. Which was the point. Need a good excuse. Saturn is applying pressure in the middle of Libra and that means a good excuse will buy time. Won’t get you out of the problem, not in the big picture, but for the rest of the days left on this scope? You just need to gain a little ground, a little breathing space, a little time. Which is what I’m all about. Helping with what I can do while there’s time and place to do this. Saturn’s an ugly little taskmaster, and the task at hand is going to take a little longer than you originally planned. Solution? A good excuse, buy a little time, give your Libra self a chance for the details to get worked out. “Cat fell asleep on the phone.”

Scorpio: For years, Sun-Tzu’s “Art of War” was heavily referenced in popular media. Personally, I use several translations of the work “Meditations” by Marcus Aurelius. What I liked about the “Art of War” references, was the mistake made. It wasn’t a book. It was about two-dozen axioms engraved on sticks. The trick is in the interpreter’s translation, with the special added bonus material. That’s an example of a single text that’s become a whole industry unto itself. Mars and the Sun playing together in Aquarius creates a little tension for Scorpio. How much tension? Depends. Good tension, bad tension? What does it say about this kind of tension in the original text for Art of War? Then, what does it say in one of the hundred or even thousands of derivative texts that claim to be about the Art of War, but are really a particular translator’s take on the material? Shading, tone, examples, lists, a small publishing subsidiary could survive on the variations alone. While I don’t speak — or read — the original Chinese pictographs, I’m sure that a good translation is available. Still, the shading and tones are the critical factors. One way or another, the Aquarius contingent is pushing your buttons. How to deal with that? I’d suggest a side-by-side comparison of a couple of piece from the Art of War by Sun-Tzu.

Sagittarius: It was a busy morning at this one taco place. I was having a leisurely breakfast. However, as I pointed out to my date, we were the only clearly anglo people in the place. “Kramer, you take me to the nicest places,” was one comment, and “the food here is good,” followed shortly thereafter. While I’m a huge fan of unusual dining, it never dawned on me that I was a minority in that neighborhood. Like that restaurant, I was clearly a big minority, me and the date, only white folk in a sea of beautiful brown. True, the indigenous population tends to be an ethnic mix, and true, other than me, there’s probably no ethnic purity, and my personal belief is that the mixed roots people tend to be prettier, but none of this mattered. I was perfectly at home as a stranger in a strange land. As a Sagittarius, this is where we shine, exploring the new, or being in a place that is certainly new to some. Perhaps uncomfortable for some. Not for our Sagittarius selves, though. Explore the unknown. Be adventuresome. This is a good time, while Venus is still present, to help smooth over rough patches. Maybe, though, you’re just like me, and we don’t care.

Capricorn: There’s a rather unusual Friday special at this one place. It’s a little more than just a taco stand, which would suggest, it’s not the kind of place I would frequent. Not enough “dive” atmosphere. On most Fridays, the special is “potato enchiladas.” It’s not what you think it is. Some kind of lightly spiced, haven’t figured out what, but some kind mashed potatoes wrapped in red corn tortillas, then served under a heap of rather good salad. Then, the topping for that? The enchiladas have some light mole on them but the salad dressing is raspberry vinaigrette, and the presentation is also remarkable. The three potato enchiladas are arranged in a triangle with the rabbit food almost spilling over the plate. I always thought it was cheap shot until I tried that platter one time, and I was hooked. Fridays, when I’m in town, that’s the place to be. Lunch time. Took even me by surprise, jaded soul that I am. Good stuff. Potato enchiladas. It’s not what you think it is. Sums up the astrological energy this week, too. It’s not what you think it is.