Horoscopes by the Fishing Guide to the Stars starting 6.6.2013

“As when the golden sun salutes the morn,
And having gilt the ocean with his beams,
Gallops the zodiac in his glistering coach…”

Aaron in Shakespeare’s Titus Andronicus [II.i.5-7]

Gemini: The Meisei First Folio edition of Shakespeare’s works has a bullet lodged in it. The bullet stopped at Titus Andronicus implying that the play itself might be impenetrable. Hardly, but as an early work it is a bit gruesome, even by more modern standards — the play is gruesome, the bullet is relatively innocuous. Who said literature can’t be studded with great stories?

As the Sun moves through the zodiac sign of Gemini, Mars brings his war-like visage to the fray. How much are you going to let Mars and his energy turn you sour? I suggest more activity. It’s a birthday time for Gemini, celebrate! It was the bullet-riddled Folio that made me think of Mars.

Cancer: When you’re in love, the grass is greener, the smell of the summer flowers is sweeter. The water, it tastes crisp and cool. The fish bite more often. I’m unsure of that last one, but it was worth a shot. The problem being, does the ingress of Venus into the tropical zodiac sign of Cancer, does that signal love?

More and more, I think it symbolizes something akin to love, but slightly different. I figure the inner combination of Venus and Mercury means you’re feeling, your feelings, are all like that, “Being in love,” previously described. Can’t get this far in life without making a few mistakes, and you’re getting the benefit of age and experience. I suggest this is a “Like falling in love” attitude. Not the real thing. Just a close approximation. Does it mean not to feel good? Oh heavens, no! Feel good. Enjoy it. Enjoy the beneficence of Mercury and Venus.

The (mighty) Leo: The littlest of touches can help. Some days, it’s not the big, grand (Leo-style) gestures, it’s the little ones. Some days, it’s not the big stuff, it’s the little details. One of my friends is a Feng Shui consultant. Several, but this one I was thinking about. “Ceiling fans are like arrows, spreading negative energy. Need to soften that,” she explained. The trick? A simple, round crystal ceiling fan “pull” works well. Two bucks at the hardware store. Not even a real crystal, just a plastic, prismatic, to me, it looks like a key ring. A simple touch. I’m not sure I really believe in Feng Shui, but I did replace the pulls on one ceiling fan, and I saw a steady increase in business. Sometimes, it’s not a big change, but just a subtle adjustment. Not a big deal, just a little, slightly mitigating arrangement. Try the little cures, first.

Virgo: Strange, a few weeks ago, I wrote about the purported audio superiority of vinyl compared to CD compared to digital. Ran into one of my neighbors, a Pisces, and he was talking about one of his pet projects, releasing new artists on vinyl. There’s a new push for the archaic. The old ways are being revisited. The past is back to haunt us. When I spun around the Virgo charts, what I kept looking at, a revisit from the past. Not really a retrograde planet kind of event, just an echo. The past is upon you, and in short notice. It’s more like on of those synchronistic events, where you’re talking about a subject, then the very subject pops up. Take note, as the next couple of days hold real, verifiable clues for Virgo, in the coincidence events. Pay attention.

Libra: There comes a time when a very-Libra-like well-timed pause can save your bacon. We were fishing live bait in little backwater spot, just off the InterCoastal WaterWay. Well-timed pause. A Libra, well-timed pause. Wait for it. The tip of the fishing pole jiggled a little bit. Wait for it. Eventually, the pole’s tip dipped, fish was on, it was good fun. Have to wait for it. Takes a little longer than usual. “Wait for it…”

Scorpio: I would suppose, in my chosen field of work, this isn’t rare, but I would suppose that there should be an art to the rejection letter. I’ve received well over 500 rejection form letters to my queries for publication. Might even be as higher, like in the thousands. There should be an artful way to say, “Thank you, but your material isn’t quite right for our venue — at this time. Stay in touch!” The artful rejection. There should be a guideline, better yet, each rejection note should be written by hand, the fine art of rejecting a person, situation, or manuscript in such a fashion as to render the sting less painful. The author’s handwritten note is always a favorite with me.

A simple, handwritten note, “Sorry, can’t use this at the time, but stay in touch!” That goes much further than a perfunctory, form letter. With Saturn where he is in your chart, think about that rejection. Easy way, hard way. What’s better for you? I’m unsure if you’re the recipient or the sender, but in either position, what with Saturn and all? Remember what the other side feels like.

Sagittarius: Come a time when there’s no pleasing some people. We are those people. Too far, too close, too hot, too cold, too something. No matter what, we’re not going to be entirely comfortable. Just no pleasing us. Part of this is Mars, opposite us in Gemini. Part of this is the Sun, opposite us in Gemini. Part of this is Jupiter — our planet — opposite us in Gemini. Just no making our Sagittarius selves happy. I’m sleepy, but I can’t sleep. I’m tired but not so tired I need a nap. I’m awake, but not awake enough to handle heavy equipment. Like the fine print says, “Do not operate heavy equipment (when taking this horoscope).” I’m sure my fine print has the correct warning label to cover the exact Sagittarius action, the function of the planets that are opposite our good natured selves. Dig around and leave me a note about that.

Capricorn: I was on the Texas Coast, ostensibly for fishing. I love the Texas Tourist crap, many of the little shops sell. Junk. Cheap T-shirts. One cheap T-shirt caught my attention. “Beso mi culo! (Thank you very much!)” The parenthetical comment was intended as a loose translation. It’s a very loose translation. Might have nothing to do with the action suggested in Spanish. It’s fun, and funnier depending on one’s ability to translate swear words, whole expressions, from one language to another. It was funny, the first time. Less now. I figure, a t-shirt like that might help, more than anything else, to make it through the next few days. There’s going to be something that feels like it crashing down on you. Learn to say, “thank you” like that t-shirt suggested.

Aquarius: Shakespeare’s works were first divided, like, in the first edition, the works were divided into three categories, Comedy, Tragedy, Histories. At some point, in the life of Shakespeare’s works, various editors and academics have added Romances. Still, in the bulk of the editions I’ve worked with, it’s three, Comedy, History, Tragedy. Comedy entertains me the most; history, especially Shakespeare’s wholesale re-imagining portions of English History, is equally entertaining; and the tragedy can be the most cathartic. Each one of those have a place. As an Aquarius, I’d like for your world to make sense. Regrettably, life may be like a book, or play, but not always. There will be two, no, three events this next few days. Two of them will make sense. One won’t. You’ve been cautioned that something will fail, epic fail. Which one? Have to see this all the way through to find out. I can’t give the ending away, that would be a spoiler.

Pisces: I’ve found that writing about religion is a black hole topic. There are no right answers. Doesn’t matter what I write about the topic, there will be a group of regular readers who will be very offended by my take on the sub-topic. The most amusing sub-group is the structural anarchist atheists. As much as their faith, can’t call it a faith, but their core belief system is every bit as dogmatic and structured as the Baptists, or Roman Catholics, and they are as unwavering and ingrained in their system, which, to me, looks just like a religion, a belief in not believing, my structural anarchist atheists will probably be the most vocal. Both of them. One is a Pisces. I’ll get one piece of hate-mail about that, and I might post it, for entertainment’s sake, in the weblog. Just for fun. We’ll see. What I’m trying to get across to Pisces has nothing to do with religion, spirituality, or the rock-solid, dogmatic belief in nothing. It’s about figuring out the single, easiest way for Pisces, as whole, and in part, to irritate the fewest number of people. Like, don’t talk about religion, or whatever that hot-button, black-hole topic currently is. In your world.

Aries: There was an outline, last week. Go back a re-read the outline. Did you fill in the blanks to answer the Aries questions? Did you address the issues? Did you get your “press release” one page answer ready for dispersal?

I hope so because this week, you’ve got a temporarily tough angle from Mercury, just making you think that you need a prepared statement, a facile answer. That’s what I was prepping you for. Have the answer before you know there’s going to be a question. Last week seemed like homework at the time. You’re getting queried this week. Do you have an answer ready?

Taurus: There are some days, moments when the words flow. I figure I can type about 30 or 40 words a minutes, two fingers and all, and then, there are days, even weeks at a time, when the words just flow right out. I look at astrology charts, the symbols coalesce into patterns and metaphors spring forth from my fingertips. I’m in the zone, baby.

Then, there are weeks at a time when nothing is flowing. The ideas are tougher to extract, the symbolism isn’t clear, and I have to work at it to make this happen.

In this next week, in Taurus, your “thing,” whatever that is, flows. Ideas, inceptions, concepts, content, projects. You’re in you “zone,” again, whatever that means to you. The only problem? Non-Taurus folks might not understand your process at this moment. Keep working, ignore critics. Or, “Ignore critics; keep working.”