Horoscopes by the Fishing Guide to the Stars starting 3.14.2013

“[He is] a very tainted fellow, and full of wickedness.”
Shakespeare’s All’s Well That Ends Well [III.ii.57]

(No, no Ides of March, not this year. Buck up.)

Aries starts March 20, Mars is in Aries, and Mercury goes un-retrograde.

Pisces: Shakespeare’s All’s Well That Ends Well was possibly not performed in the author’s lifetime. There is no record of that play ever being staged until 1740. It’s an odd play, anyway, and that’s easy to see. I’ve mined it considerably for material, but I like the weird plays. With what’s happening, for some reason that odd fact from the Shakespeare catalog of trivial literary pursuits, that was the item that popped up for Pisces. Shakespeare’s “problem plays” and Pisces? There is a connection.

Aries: This next couple of day, before the Sun arrives in Aries? It’s all a precursor. The lead-in. The prologue. The introduction. That which comes before that which is about to happen. It’s sneak preview. There’s also a certain amount of set-up and preparation required. Now.

We’re all getting ready for a minor implosion. Ever watch those things on the video? When a building is imploded? A few explosions, more like fireworks, then the building starts to collapse on itself? What this is about. Imploding. You or someone else? We have a week to prepare, let’s make this someone else. Insulate yourself from a situation or a position, insulate yourself from being involved. The situation, you know it will collapse. Easy to see. The dynamite has been placed along structural support, and all that’s left, in about ten days, someone pushed the button, and “Boom!” All falls down.

Aries: clear the area, and get yourself out of the way. You’ve got more than 7 (seven) days to make this happen. Hop! Hop!

Taurus: I had an idea a simple idea, I got this from looking at the way planets are, and the Sun and the Moon, looking at what was where. Simple concept, instead of taking big bites, take little bites. Instead of gorging on everything around you that remotely looks like food, or might taste good? Do that California Cuisine thing — do the small bites with intense flavor. Savor the flavor. Intensity is not to be confused with gulping it all down in hurry. Towards this end, in a small example, I tend to use demitasse coffee cups. Regular coffee, but served in an espresso sized cup. Makes me slow down and savor the coffee. With what’s happening in Taurus? Need to slow down and savor. Smaller portions, smaller bites. Chew. Masticate. Savor the flavor. Don’t gulp, gorge and inhale food — or whatever this is about in your life. Excess is grand, but not at this moment, no matter how tempting.

Gemini: I think it’s called the Oxford Comma. It’s the final comma in a series, like, One, Two, and Three. The comma that comes before that final conjunction, “And.” More modern grammar gods and some of my previous editors allowed as how that last comma was superfluous. “One, Two, Three and Four.” However, in my mind’s eye, that doesn’t scan correctly. Something is amiss. Maybe it’s the “Cambridge comma,” I’m unsure. As a Gemini, you’ll appreciate that I go both ways, sometimes I use it, and sometimes, I don’t. When I spun around the charts and looked at Gemini several different ways, I kept thinking about that comma, and what it represents, besides a Virgo-like eye for diction, grammar and spelling. The lowly comma is a breath-space. The reader is supposed to pause. Until we get Aries ramped up and into full gear, soon, very soon, there needs to be a pause in Gemini. Stop. Breath. Take a break. Insert that extra, sometimes superfluous, comma, and see if that doesn’t make the whole week flow a little better.

One, two, three, four and five.

One, two, three, four, and five.

Cancer: I’m big, posing wimp when it comes to swimming in Austin’s cold, sacred, Barton Creek (springs). I’ll talk about swimming in it when the weather is cooler, but the sad truth is, I don’t swim unless I’ve been sweating on the trail. Once in March, but usually? Not until May, at the earliest. One “El Nino” winter, I was in as late as mid-November, but those were rather sultry fall afternoons. Barton Creek, Austin’ Barton Pool is a constant 68 degrees (F). Great on hot summer afternoons. Fish, swim, all about the same. Not so good on a mid-March afternoon, even though it can be warm out. This week? It’s like jumping into Barton Creek. First time for the new year. Water is just as cold as it was last year, nothing’s changed, but there’s that bracing experience, feels like the wind is getting sucked out of me, just as I hit the water. What it feels like for Cancer, this week. My lovely Moon Children are getting hit, swallowed up, completely immersed, in a sentiment. Feeling. Can take your breath away. Keep moving, I doubt you’ll sink.

The (mighty) Leo: I try to invoke images that resonate with the current transits. Part poetry, part Texana, part material that escapes from under my skull cap, I can’t place all my sources. However, this was a very distinctive image: Tex-Mex Breakfast, early, early morning, I think I was getting ready to ride someplace. The kitchen music, downtown San Antonio tacqueria, it was Phil Collins crooning about “Su-su-suddio.” Coming from the kitchen. The song was blaring in the pre-dawn twilight, loud for the cooks and busboys, maybe other assorted support personnel. Banging of pots and pans, Phil Collins, do you know his connection to San Antonio and the Alamo? He’s one of the major benefactors and backers of the local Alamo history. In Leo, remember? We’ve got something that doesn’t fit, but if you dig a little? Like Phil Collins digging under his museum? There’s a good chance we’ll find the connection. Dig.

Virgo: Two influences, one source is the residual Mercury Retrograde issues. The second, more bizarre influence is Mars approaching Uranus in Aries. The Sun doesn’t roll over into Aries, just yet, but the heat is on.

With the plethora of planets, and planet-like energies still lingering in Pisces, there’s an urge to make a hasty decision. No good Virgo like hasty decisions. Just about the time the new horoscopes roll up, there’s a tiny window that suggest action is appropriate. This week? Despite the little pressures, maybe stop and assess where you’re at and I wonder, Virgo-dear, do you really have to do that, like, right now? Really?

Libra: There’s always that weird attempt at something substantially different. Doesn’t always work. Some attempts are abject failures. The apparent stroke of genius that, as it turns out, is less a stroke of genius and more, like it seemed at the time, a dumb idea. “There are no dumb questions.” Obviously, you haven’t been listening. I don’t know if this is Libra, or, I’d rather think, it is someone around you, who is about to ask the stupid questions. Inspired genius is good. It has to have a basis in fact, and that’s the inherent issue.

There are two lingering influences, one of which is the almost laughable Mercury RX material. The other is Mars approaching, not quite there, but fast approaching Uranus. Opposite from Libra. Makes all of us want to take that giant leap into the unknown. What I’m saying is that the so-called “inspired leap of faith?” Might think about that a second time.

Scorpio: I am a huge fan of getting the machine to do all the hard work. Like adding numbers in columns and rows? I can do it with an adding machine and pencil, old-style ledger. I’m not even sure if that concept will get across to some people, the idea of paper and pencil, columns and rows of figures. Spreadsheet, only, the computer doesn’t do the adding, all done by hand? I’m not sure, I don’t even know if accounting paper, the huge sheets with empty columns, I’m unsure if that kind of ledger sheet is even available these days. I use a computer to do a spreadsheet. I’ve found that using automation is less prone to error. As a Scorpio, there’s portions of your life that can be automated. Let the machine do the hard work. Let the machine do the heavy lifting. Let the machine take care of the mundane details so you can stay Scorpio-focused on other stuff. With Saturn, learn to let the machines do as much of the repetitive work as possible. The boring stuff. Train the machine, figure this out, get the computer to take care of the details.

Sagittarius: One of my regular readers, a guy I know he reads these scopes religiously, anyway, he called me, “Mr. Happy.” While I consider myself far from being “Mr Happy,” I do tend to be more ebullient than some. This week is like this, friction, good stuff, friction, good stuff, friction, friction, good stuff. Who wins?

Me, I tend to try to see the good. I tend to overlook the minor irritants. I tend to see upside, whenever I can. As a Sagittarius, this week has handful of minor irritants. I can let any one of those issues become a big, honking, stinking deal, if I so choose. You’re reading this. Life Sagittarius can have it’s minor up-and-down moments. Pause. Stop. Assess and plot, perhaps, eschew our usual “headfirst” attitude. Might help ease the cause of the friction. Some of it, anyway.

Capricorn: I’ve been using Shakespeare’s canon for over 20 years now. One of my bible-thumping buddies pointed out to me that quoting the bible, as he is wont to do, will be a source of ire amongst some groups, including even which translation is used among the various Christian sects. So, even though I didn’t set out, my original reasoning was quite different, and the safest secular canon (Shakespeare) was quite by accident. It just looks like I thought carefully through to the end. I didn’t, just worked in my favor. Besides, when I started, there were only 37 plays, and in the intervening years, several more have been added. I liked the idea that there weren’t going to be any new plays. To this day, there’s still one that was recorded, the missing “Cardenio,” and a script has never been found.

Embrace the happy “accidents.” Coincidence.

Aquarius: Placeholders are an important part of this week in Aquarius-land. I was looking at one of my Shakespeare quotes, and I was thinking it was wrong, like I misspelled a word, or left something out. At the end of the quote, there’s a big Roman numeral, that’s the act number, small Roman numeral, the scene number, then the arabic numbers for line number(s).

It’s how I can go to my phone, laptop, or even the big “Riverside Complete Works of Shakespeare” text, and look up the quote. Fact-checking myself. In more than 20 years, only a few quotes have been way off. What was interesting, I thought that the line number was off, or the wrong scene, but as I was digging through the text, doing this on my phone, I discovered I wasn’t in the right scene of that play. Still, took some digging to find the exact quote. If I had a textbook with me? Would’ve been faster. I did get it, and even though it looked wrong, last week, maybe the week before, the quote was exact and correct.

Still, using a placeholder? Never hurts to check facts.