“Where words are scarce, they are seldom spent in vain.”
Shakespeare’s The Tragedy of Richard the Second [II.i.9]
Horoscopes by the Fishing Guide to the Stars starting 1.9.2014
Capricorn: I’ve used a succession of cheap, “Point-and-click” cameras over the years. Each one has had various merits and labels. I quit keeping track of brands, the only rule was simple: had to cost under a hundred dollars. Point and shoot. No lens, no special optics, nothing. The reasoning behind the cheap cameras was simple, I’ll have a cheap one in my pocket when the image presents itself. An expensive camera will be in the bag at home. Originally, the cameras were for images of fish, dating back to a client comment about a lack of fishy pictures on the website. One by one, the cameras suffered inglorious deaths. Lost at sea. Left behind in a motel. Wandered off in Vegas. Sat on. Dashed to bits on the hard tile floor. One of my fishing buddies was ogling the most recent camera, bore a Nikon name. He wanted one like mine. He had a waterproof camera, or water resistant — something. I wanted one like his. As I was looking at Capricorn’s chart, I kept wondering what might be the message, always wanting what that other guy has.
Aquarius: Cooking tender chicken, one of the goals in my life. I started buying chicken from the farmer’s market. Grass-fed, free-range, and the supplier I prefer? Funny story, the rancher? His wife is vegan. As such, the animal welfare is excellent. For a spell last fall, there wasn’t any chicken. The goal, though, was tender chicken. I’ve tried sauté, marinating, grilling, frying, baking, and other techniques. I have yet managed to get anything “tender,” and for some reason, my chicken concoctions aren’t tender. Instead of worrying about it too much, though, this has become a process, in my example, a kitchen process. Goal. As this week cooks along in Aquarius?
Think about goals. Maybe, like my goal of tender chicken, it might never happen; however, that doesn’t stop us from trying. I wonder if I put the chicken in a chili, if that would work.
Pisces: Old (kitchen) trick: coffee beans help absorb bad aromas. Next to my kitchen not literally in the kitchen, more like kitchen-adjacent, I’ve got a “bud” stem vase. Long, tall, narrow thing with a slender build. Made for holding a single stem of, presumably, a rose. Or something like that? I’m not sure, not much of a flower guy, myself. However, I found a much better use for the bud-stem-vase: coffee beans. These are cheap, the least expensive beans collection I can find. I keep that narrow vase filled with a small selection of beans. Most of my guest assume it’s for some kind of “Austin” decor thing. It’s not. It is to control malevolent odors. Odd bit of lore, I’ve picked up, coffee beans, supposedly, absorb all the bad smells in the kitchen area. Don’t know if it’s true or not, but I’ve been doing this for a few year, so there’s some merit to the idea. It’s topical, attractive–in a slightly off-beat way, and it seems to improve the local atmosphere. As a Pisces, you might want to employ a similar, if not identical, trick to improve your local atmosphere.
Aries: It was not an atypical warm December afternoon in South Texas. I was on foot, downtown. I happened across a unique scene, in my own, twisted way of seeing it, a funny yet poignant illustration for Aries. A single cop, city cop, had his knee in the middle of a guy’s back, and the penned perp’s hands were cuffed behind his back. Two civilians were assisting. Or maybe they were plain clothes, out of uniform, or, I’d prefer, my mind’s eye, the assistants were civilians. The alleged perpetrator, I’m not sure, but the cop was talking low and slow and the perp was arguing, vociferously and with an absence of logic. You’re down, on the ground, face in the sidewalk, time to shut up. I’m not passing any judgement on right, wrong, abuse of power, or, what looked like to me, a cop had his patience pushed way to far and yet still showed remarkable, almost super-human, restraint. I’ve got cop friends and cop clients, so I understand their work better than some. Which made this even a better illustration. Until we get in front of a judge, to settle the dispute? Arguing with a force greater than your Aries self is going nowhere fast. You can be either one in the illustration, which do you like better?
Taurus: Taurus client, her husband likes to hunt. Likes to fish, too, but his big deal? Shooting things. Dinner. “He has a game camera, on the deer lease, and it texted him a picture of a big buck, so he’s gone for the weekend.” The other advantage to his particular deer lease? Claims cell phones don’t work out there. I have a fishing spot, several places I fish, where, oddly enough, my cell phone doesn’t seem to have coverage — unless you’re a certain someone (female). The point is, for a spot in the middle of nowhere, with no wireless access, odd, his wildlife camera can send out pictures, alerting him that there’s game afoot. But otherwise? Work and wife can’t reach him. I’d say it was strange, but my mobile phone has a similar problem. Some places I fish, nothing gets through. Except one girlfriend. So the way we pick choose what gets through? That’s a clue on how to face the energies this next few days. Getting off in a new direction and need some extra concentration time? Use my buddy’s husband’s game camera as an example. The deer lease, I mean. “Look, no signal.”
Gemini: I was fishing last fall. We tossed out an anchor, smooth, crystal-clear water, no wind, no breeze, almost spooky. We did catch fish. Lots of fish. At this one place, where we were anchored, I watched while the boat’s anchor line lay curled up on the bottom of the bay. The anchor was out, and if there had been a strong current or some kind of a breeze, that might’ve added tension. No tension, boat stayed in one place, close to the anchor, the whole time. Curled around the anchor, with the line getting a small kink, from the twist. But no tension. Here’s how I see Gemini: you’re like me, in that boat, anchor out, but no tension on the anchor’s line. If the anchor wasn’t out, then there would be current, wind, big fish, even, something would be exerting a force on the boat. Looking at your Gemini planets, you need an anchor. Oh yeah, pictures of the fish we caught? On the website someplace. Big redfish, bay fishing at its finest. Throw out a Gemini anchor, even if you don’t (think) you need it.
Cancer: There’s this almost intense array of planet energies unfolding in Cancer. I’m not sure what to make of it. I was on the Gulf Coast, a favorite winter playground for me, to fish, and mostly, just to hang out. Along one boardwalk beach access, I noticed a single, Great Blue Heron, a full-sized male, replete with the plumage, the crown or crest, long legs, long neck, bet the feller stood close to four-feet tall, if not more. I tend to see these bird stalking shorelines, in the bay, so on the Gulf side, it was a little odd. He was first, on a dune, and if I tried to get close for a picture, he would squawk, lift his great wings, and glide a few feet further away. He was the perfect grumpy old man.
Didn’t want a picture. The next day, he was wading the shoreline, and as I made my way along the beach, he would keep one eye on me, and then, his long neck would bend, and he would dart at something — some morsel of food — in the ocean’s waves.
If I got too close, or worse, if I paused in my steps to attempt a picture, he would spread his wings, squawk loudly, and take a few strokes of the air that would move him a few more meters down the beach. Away from some interloper, namely, me. Buried on the site, there’s an account of me feeding a similar bird, from the dock at Shady Acres, in Austin. I caught a small sun fish and tossed it to the bird — swallowed it whole, that big bird did. While I felt like I should have an affinity for the shorebird, apparently, that sentiment was not shared. Or he was just a grumpy old man of a Great Blue Heron. Did I presume familiarity when there wasn’t any? Is that a caution for Cancer, now? Are you like me, overly friendly, gregarious and moving in on someone else’s territory? Or are you a grumpy old heron? “Squawk to me, baby.”
The (mighty) Leo: When surf fishing, Texas Gulf Coast, even in late December or early January? We’d drive along the beach, really slow, and watch for birds. Off shore, just over the first bar, there would be, eventually, a flock feeding off a giant ball of bait. Park, grab surf poles, and wade out to a point where the water’s waist deep, then give that bait a good heave, hopefully over the bar and in the trench on the other side. The birds, that’s the clue. Look for nature’s predators, and even though I’m looking for fish, the birds give away the fishes’ locations. A Retrograde Venus, in Capricorn, makes for some weird Leo situations. Look for the symbols, the signs. Look for where the birds are feeding to determine where you should park your Leo butt. Portable throne, a libation in one hand and the birds, circling, feeding, squawking overhead. You know it’s right, just a matter of time, now.
Virgo: I was helping an elderly friend with a shopping decision. “Look, LOOK! This one has BlueTooth, USB and FireWire!” Buddy looks at me, “Do I need all that?” No, in this situation, all of that extra electro-whiz-bang material was all sizzle and no steak.
“But it’s got BlueTooth!” So does any number of my toys, excuse me, so does any number of my pieces of equipment. Easily added as a tech-plus. The familiar upgrade patter? “Now with BlueTooth!” Do you need whatever it is, now with BlueTooth? Looking at the relative position of the planets and the emphasis is on the practical application, you just have to ask yourself, “But it’s got BlueTooth?” Does that really affect the form, function and appearance? Just because it’s got it, does that mean you need it? “But it’s got BlueTooth!”
Libra: Apple’s old Think Different campaign — check the date — that was 1997 — has always inspired me. The term, “Think different,” is a grammatical faux pas, should read, “Think differently.” Adverb agreement. I’m not one to argue grammatical points, with my output, I have as many hanging modifiers, bad grammar and convenient misspellings as the next. As the next guy in line. I am a past master of the hanging non sequitur. Doesn’t bother me. What motivated me, though, about that clip, about that whole ad campaign? It made me more aware of bad grammar.
This week’s notice serves as a reminder, for Libra, for all of us, but especially for Libra, it’s not, “Think different,” to be correct? It should read, “Think differently.”
Scorpio: Guidelines for Scorpio working the night shift —
- 1.Upper management has no sense of humor.
2. You can’t fix stupid.
Just a none-too-subtle reminder about the way things work when Saturn’s in charge. You can’t fix the people who supervise you. Nothing’s going to be done. This situation is compounded — planets be damned — by the person immediately upstream from your Scorpio self. Supervisor, boss, client, someone isn’t going to understand, isn’t going to even see, the humor that you perceive.
That’s the problem. Can’t fix it. Problem can’t be solved. There is only one way to get through. Head down, Scorpio shoulder against the object, and push. Boss person will probably stand there and tell you’re doing it wrong, too, that your Scorpio self should push harder. Be nice if they’d lend a hand, but this
week? Doubtful.
Sagittarius: It was a late model Vette, motoring along in the fast lane. Passed us right up, a constricted but throaty roar as it whipped by. No big deal, you know what they say about guys who drive Corvettes? Although, these days, I’ve seen more women driving them.
- No idea, just casual, very unscientific observation.
The tags on that one Vette, as it whipped passed? Texas License. Vanity plates, read: “I KNOW.” Perfect message to send. Probably helps a lot with the conversation openers, “So that’s your Vette, you know what they say?” Point to the tags. There’s a recurring, stupid question we’re going to get this week, as a Sagittarius. Vanity tags are one answer, just nod and point. A sign, too, that would work. “Yeah, I know,” wherein the subtext is “Shut up and leave me alone.” Just wouldn’t want that on the sign.
