- Palamon: How do you, noble cousin?
Arcite: How do you, sir?
Palamon: Why, strong enough to laugh at misery
And bear the chance of war yet. We are prisoners
I fear for ever, cousin.
- Shakespeare’s Two Noble Kinsmen, Act 2, Scene II
Libra: Buddy of mine, he tapped my web page, read through old weblog posts, and he concluded I’m an erudite Shakespeare scholar of some renown. An erudite Shakespeare scholar of some renown looked at some of my work and guessed — quite correctly — I’m more of redneck, fishing guide with a penchant for quoting Shakespeare’s canon.
Both are right. As a Libra, it’s easy to see both sides of that equation. So let’s break this down in a riddle that I can explain. Which one am I, really? I’d say they are both correct answers — a very Libra notion — in that, to some, I know more about Shakespeare’s work than most, and to others, I’m just kind of a provincial rustic with a rudimentary grasp of Shakespeare’s canon. Happy birthday! You’re faced with a similar question as Saturn ‘exeunt’ Libra. The right answer to this week’s question? As you can see, there’s more than one right answer. Remember that.
Scorpio: Mars exits, Saturn and Mercury arrive. I spent several years prepping my Scorpio clients for this eventuality. So, I’ll hope our preparations have paid off. If not? You’re in for a long, uncomfortable run with Saturn. Maybe I can help. Or maybe not. Mercury is in your sign for just a short period. What this is about? Communication. Ever been around someone who whines and complains, to the point that you, instead of listening to the litany of complaints, you just do it yourself, to shut up the whiner?
That’s what this is like. Only, you’re both the one doing the talking, the whining, the complaining, and you’re the one who can just shut up and do the dirty deed, get it done with, never to have to talk about this again. It is your call. You get to decide what works best, but a little hard work now? You’ll thank me later. Probably in three to five years, but in my experience? A good Scorpio never forgets.
Sagittarius: “Vroom, vroom!” Insert whatever sexy, motor noise works for you. I listened as a newer Ducati clanked noisily at the corner. To me, an Italian motorcycle with Desmodromic overhead gears, metal gnashing on metal, that’s a sexy motor noise. To me. To one of my buddies, it’s the sound of throaty V-8, throttle partially open, the pipes breathing unburnt hydrocarbons. All depends. I’m also partial to the sound of a race-pipe tuned 2-stroke motor, the faint aromatic blend of castor bean oil lingering after the motorbike has (swiftly) departed. All about what kind of motor noises work. I knew a girlfriend’s granddaughter, the kiddo made motoring noises. That was a satisfying motor noise, as well. Depends. All depends. Mars is motoring into Sagittarius. Unprepared? Then the noise catches you with a start. You might jump. However, prepared for the Mars action? Vroom-vroom, it’s a satisfying motor noise. Means we’re moving again.
Capricorn: I was in a strange town. Only been there, two, maybe three times. Ever. Out west. Heel was coming off one of my cowboy boots. I limped into a cobbler’s store. He fixed the boot, nailed it back, glued in the interior flap and then, when I asked how much, he refused to take any cash. The boot-repair-guy recognized my boots by brand and signature handmade appeal. Knew, knew of, I think, to be honest, of the brand’s main man. Knew some of the history and knew that the boots made before 1990, like mine, were much better. All of this plus a free repair. I was able to walk correctly after that. His repair job, been more than a year, but his work stands up, that one cobbler. He was paying it forward. Capricorn. You get a chance, just as Saturn shifts signs, you get a chance to pay it forward. Free repair, free fix, kind word, help out a fellow traveler on the road of life? Pay it forward. There’s a benefit for you.
Aquarius: There’s a long list of titles where dropping a single letter can make a world of difference. The single title I was thinking about? “Alive in Wonderland.” Originally, it was mindless entertainment by a noted scholar, under a pen name, and the whole poem was meant to be fun. Funny, too. However, change but one letter? Drop that first A? “Lice in Wonderland.”
Head games are not just for Aquarius. As the week unfolds, figure out what difference a single letter, a single keystroke, just removing a leading letter, see what happens. Meaning changes. Definition changes. The whole focus of the expression changes. What’s better, the single example I’ve got? There’s an obvious reference to the original, and depending on how that’s played, that allusion to the original might work well within the confines of this week’s restrictions. The game, the puzzle, the way to make it through the week and its concomitant fallout? Try to remove just one letter.
Pisces: I should slap myself in the forehead. It wasn’t until I started on the Pisces scope that I realized the start date: 10-4. Is that cool? I don’t know, at the moment, it seemed important. Maybe it’s not that big of deal. I don’t know much communication that continues to use that as a signatory, the classic sign-off, “Over and out, 30.” Before the next scope rolls up, you’re going to be looking at a single issue. Stick a fork in it, prod it with the toe of your boot, poke it with a stick, in other words, check and see if the thing really is dead. Supposed to be over. Supposed to be done and finished. No more. I think, buried in my standard set of disclaimers I think there’s wording that reflects this. One issue. Not every issue, but that? The one that’s been on metaphoric life support for too long? Pull the plug, if the plug hasn’t been pulled already. Sorry is the metaphor offends ya’ll, but I’m sure you get the picture.
Aries: I was watching a guy work a BobCat. He was digging up a piece of fresh sidewalk. The concrete had that new appearance, a shade of slate grey instead of the sun-weather look of washed out sand, less grey, more sand-colored, with a weathered, feathered finish. The front-loader was replaced with a driver of some kind, a long, stinger-looking pointed steel spike. He would ratchet it up in the air, bring it down on the fresh sidewalk, then there was some kind of repeated blows that would shake and break the sidewalk. I watched, idly, briefly. Work fascinates me. I can watch it for hours. I moved on. That bit where they (the city, be my guess) were tearing up a fresh construction project is always curious. Perfect metaphor for my fine Aries friends. You have to go over and completely tear a previous, probably recently laid, piece of a project. You need to get at something underneath the new layer. Only way is to rip out the stuff you just did. Worth it? It is, unless some smart-aleck, like me, comes along and starts the questioning why the city is digging up new concrete.
Taurus: Get settled in. Get settled down and get comfortable. The fall fishing is about to get kicked into high gear. As Saturn begins to make his way through Scorpio, this is a long-term transit, but there’s some stuff to look forward to, as a Taurus. First, obvious, the clearest image? I started out with get settled. That’s a pier, in front of a seedy motel in a bayside town, down along the Texas Gulf Coast. I can get nice and settled, in one position, down there. Piece of shrimp, was a whole shrimp at one time, but the pin fish whittled it away until there was almost no shrimp left. Settled in, pole in handy, a beverage at my side. Cool, fall evening, maybe the faintest shiver in the warm, sea air. Settled in, and ready for a long wait. I started fishing about 8. Around ten, the lights came on, the underwater lights. Around midnight, the smaller trout gave way to larger game fish, and by two in the morning? It was a frenzied pace. Had to wait. Had to sit out those hours, waiting. What it’s all about. Settled in. Got a while to go before that Saturn returns us a big one. Get settled in. There’s a wait, this week — the image is reclining on a dock, waiting on fish.
Gemini: A buddy of mine is a big oilfield worker. As in his large, burly, macho. Has arms bigger than my legs. Probably stronger, too. We’ve fished, so he is technically a fishing buddy, too. Not what this is about, it’s about him being macho without being macho. Not overtly, but his presence is misleading.
He’s also a new dad. Seeing him work clothes, grease-stained jeans, heavy work boots caked with mud, oil-stained shirt, then, with a ‘throw-up’ cloth over one shoulder as gently burped his new girl, it’s different. One part of the image didn’t seem to fit.
As Mars moves opposite your good, Gemini self in — Mars moves into Sagittarius — you’re going to encounter an image that doesn’t make a lot of sense on the surface. Don’t over-analyze the data Mars throws at you, just take it all in, and add that information to the stack. (Gemini loves more data; not a good time to pass judgement.)
Cancer: There’s a cranky element at play. Mostly the movement of the Sun and the Moon, relative to the slice of the sky called Cancer, but there are other factors. There’s a trick, too, not to let this “after the full moon” crankiness infect everything you touch. Rather, know that Mars is headed to Sagittarius and that will smooth over some rough edges you’ve had. Rough edges you’ve felt. Little stuff. Big stuff. Might help you adjust your focus if you can wait a few days.
Leo: Technology and its arc? I listened while friends discussed the latest TV show. Daytime TV is a world unto itself. Strange stuff with bizarre production cycles. Some is done on the fly and some is recorded for later broadcast, and some is reruns from a previous era. The new show my friends were discussing? Only on in the daytime. “Just tape it,” one said. Tape. The era of video-tape audio-visual recording is long gone. Dead for more than a decade? Who knows? However, to this day, when I digitally record and master the weekly AV segment, I still think, “I need to tape it.” I’ve shot it with a variety of cameras, but it was was never “taped,” in proper context. Why is something taped? The next expression is “Tivo’d.” Right. Don’t own a Tivo, but the machine’s name is now common place. Perhaps DVR just doesn’t have the correct ring to it. The arc of technology. Careful, this week, as Saturn enters Scorpio. Stop smirking.
Virgo: Living so much of my life in Austin, I got used to seeing clouds. Usually, big, white, fluffy clouds. There was that sense that the clouds were laden with moisture, fresh up from the Gulf. There was a singular experience I had in an old East Austin parking lot, big grocery store there.
Overhead, wheeling, laughing, and begging, were seagulls. Only happened once so I don’t know that it is a regular occurrence. Austin is awfully far inland for gulls to hang out. All I needed was sand, I was at the coast (Gulf Coast, Coastal Bend, &c.) It’s an illusion. Was an illusion. For a brief moment, I was unglued in reality thinking, feeling, sensing beach and coast. Only an illusion, though. It’s quite alright to have a reverie like that. It is not okay to start waxing up a surfboard based on that illusion. The coast is still 200 miles away.