Horoscopes by the Fishing Guide to the Stars starting 5.8

    “When bird do sing, hey ding a ding, ding;
    Sweet lovers love the spring.”
    Shakespeare’s As You Like It [V.iii.11]

Happy Mother’s Day?

Horoscopes by the Fishing Guide to the Stars starting 5.8.2014

taurusTaurus: I’ve used this distinction before, referring to coffee. This time, I was thinking about wine. I couldn’t access (look up on the inter-webs) any data that supported the statement, but that’s never bothered me. The way I understood it, real Burgundy, like with a capitalized “B” ‘Burgundy (wine)’ has to come from a region in France. Like Cognac has to come from France while brandy can originate anywhere. At one time, Mexico had some delightful brandies that mimicked French Cognac. Wine, brandy, names and conventions. Labels. As a Taurus, with the sun now in Taurus, this is about names and labels, what we call it. There’s an added precision about labels and names, there’s an extra layer of deft action required in Taurus. Be very clear with labeling. You’ll be tempted to label an item as one thing, and while it might approximate the label in content and delivery? Have to be wary of naming conventions, make sure you don’t offend any of the high sheriffs. Like calling wine from Lubbock (TX) a robust Burgundy.


Gemini: Too much time in Austin, with clients in Austin? I learned a thing or two. I’ve continuously warned females away from attempting to “date” musicians. One Gemini was relating a sad tale of woe about dating rockstars, “Feed them and they never leave.” The trick, here? Should be obvious, but sometimes, the obvious escapes my Gemini friends.

Don’t feed them.

It’s that simple. I didn’t say, “Don’t provide succor,” or not to extend compassion and empathy, I just suggested, that final step? Don’t feed them.

This works on more than one level as this applies to Gemini, and they all work on multiple levels at once. Musicians, once you feed them? Take them in, they look up at you with their big musician eyes? What started out as a harmless infatuation quickly leads to an infestation, and they are rather hard to get rid of, once the whole band moves in.

Just don’t feed them.

Cancer: There’s a button on the music player, usually looks like a triangle — or an arrowhead — points to the next song. Hit it. Play the next song. The song that’s currently playing doesn’t fit the Cancer temperament. Not a big deal, hit “next.” Most of my music is arranged in a random pattern. Old School country, post-modern techno, old punk, Nü Metal, hitting the “next” button has an interesting effect. Never know what will turn up. There are some genres I’m not too fond of, some of the rap-metal crossover mix stuff, that’s just too jarring for my tastes. But that’s me. I’m hesitant to make musical suggestions because one person’s music is another person’s cacophonous crap. You say, “Potato,” and I say, “yuck.” I suggest classic country and you say, “Whiney, warbling crooners with no aesthetics.” Again, differences. What’s important? The musical player, the soundtrack that’s running with the music of the spheres, the celestial overtones? It’s simple. Don’t like a tune? Hit the “next” button. For the longest time, it’s been a little sideways triangle, means, “Play,” and these days, also indicates, “next.” Hit the “next” button. We’ll get to something that works.

The (mighty) Leo: Happy mistakes. I was fixing a small stir-fry dinner for myself. A pinch of hamburger meat, part of a (free-range, all-natural) chicken breast, herbs, spices, some local spinach to top it all, and the starter, I put everything but the spinach in the pan, then I took a call from a client. Supposed to be a half-hour call. We talked for an hour and half. I blackened my dinner, by accident. It wasn’t burnt because I had it on really low heat, but I have to admit, it was an accident that dinner wound up burnt.

Crispy, like crispy duck? Turned out rather good. Tasty. There was a minced up slice of organic purple onion, caramelized, and then, I snagged some really good garlic bulb at the farmer’s market, kind of a garlic-like onion-like thing. Plant. From too much time in a trailer in South Austin, I was used to “an office” in the “kitchen.” I could reach over and turn the heat up or down on the stove without leaving the desk. Or where I was sitting, in front of the computer. Happy mistakes. This is a week for happy, Leo mistakes. Like my culinary adventures? Exactly.

Virgo: I stopped at a well-known vitamin supplement store. I was looking for a certain kind of all-natural, free-range, grass-fed whey-powder. Thing. Stuff. Wasn’t for me, I’m not into that; I was doing this for a friend. Seeing if they had any of the right stuff. That one store didn’t. However, there were rows and rows, shelves stacked high with a variety of organic, inorganic, herbal, medicinal, crackpot, genuine, just about everything. Price points varied from a few dollars to jars of stuff that promised me ripped abs, no filler, and delicious, too, for over a hundred bucks. I never realized what has happened with the health industry, the health accessory, add-on, aftermarket market.

I was thinking, on my way home, that I should come up with a similar product, a proprietary blend of herbs and spices guaranteed to help you lose weight, gain muscle mass, get rid of pesky ex-wives (ex-husbands or ex-whatever), and will clean the cat litter, too. For years, I’ve extolled the virtues of “green tea,” and by that, I means, maybe real green tea and maybe not just regular tea with a new label. Read the ingredients. Read the label. Most Virgo folks do read the label, but with what’s been going on? Read the label. It might’ve changed since last time. You cannot do too much due diligence.

Libra: The Tao teaches that “Leading yet not dominating/This is the Primal Virtue.” (Ten) As a Libra, you’re more than familiar with this tenet, although, maybe not as part of The Tao, but that doesn’t matter. I’m sure I’ve got one translation of the Tao on my site — someplace. Besides, this isn’t about some kind of eastern mysticism. This is about how to get through the next couple of days. Calm, collected. In charge, but not overbearing. I know you’re the boss. You know you’re the boss. Let’s leave it at that. We both know who is really in control, or, in this example, who is the leader. So we’ll go with that. Lead, but don’t lead by dominating. First, it goes against the Tao, and second? It goes against the planets this week. Set an example for all to follow.

Scorpio: It’s been many long years since I’ve threatened to do this, but we’re back to it. How about a horoscope done entirely in HAIKU? Haiku is the short form of an Asian discipline. In the most succinct manner, the poem — written form — has five syllables, then another line with seven syllables, then a final line with five syllables. The opening is supposed to set a tone and the closing statement is a summation, with a slight flip, I’m thinking, a kick-turn on a skateboard. I stayed away from more formal iterations of poetry, like a classical sonnet, with 14 lines, and strict rhyme pattern. Works great in Italian, not so much in English. Shakespeare modified the sonnet form, to suit the language. This isn’t about Shakespeare and sonnets, though, this is about rigid, short forms. How to best convey the Scorpio message. How to get it across. A simple structure, 5-7-5, set-up, then kick-turn. Work it out. You can email the results. Scorpio haiku e-mail? That’s what this is about. Think: short form (less is more).

Kramer cannot speak
In short form it is too hard
Scorpio for him too

Sagittarius: Travel is how a Sagittarius learns. Perhaps other signs learn like this, too, but I’m not concerned with other signs at this moment. “Travel,” though, is a large and broad term. For me, I spent twenty years, or more, on the highways and byways of Texas, my native state. Never really leaving Texas, does that qualify as, “Travel?” Does to me. There are, at least, five distinct regions in Texas, affected and delineated by language, climate, population, geography, and other demographics. I’d guess I’m conversant in three or four of the local dialects, not willing to master the challenge of all of them. I know my limits. As a Sagittarius, rarely, if ever, do we admit to limits. Like the languages, like the various geographic areas, like the little lines that divide stuff up? We have to know, and accept, what some of the limits to the day are. What are limits that we can’t do anything about? Me? I love travel, and I also like learning. With what’s hitting us, planet-wise, these days? Less time “on the road,” as it were, and little more time spent with books and maps, studying where we’re going, that’s the key. Look at the map. Travel is good. Spontaneous is good. Together, though, at this very moment? Stop and plan. Study, then proceed.

Capricorn: Inbox, outbox, mental compartments, email boxes, data feeds, all of that? Just hang on for a second. There’s a mental box I want to work with, for Capricorn. Other signs can use this, but right now? Capricorn needs it the most. My gift to you? I present you with the mental compartment labeled, “Stuff I have no control over, whatsoever.” In my mind, I started with a simple cardboard box as an image. Over the years, I’ve adjusted that. I use a strongbox, one of those wooden crates with reinforced tops and bottoms, usually nailed shut, with a great flourish? Put that stuff in the box, and nail it shut.

I’ve got a little bit of mental warehouse in my own head, but I’m not a Capricorn, you are. As the “Stuff I can’t control” stacks up, I just push it further and further back. I can’t worry about it, it’s in its box, out-of-sight. It is in a box, and I do have access to it if I need, I can dig through the recesses of my mind and pry open that box, but for now? Figure out what goes in the box, tuck it away. Box is labeled, maybe a stenciled on the side, “Crap I have no control over,” and since it’s 1) crap, and 2) we have no control over the outcome, can’t spend time worrying about it right now.

Aquarius: Habits are hard to break. A client showed up to ask a favor, friendly gesture, wasn’t a reading or anything, no charts, no wizard hat, none of that. I was prepping some dinner for myself, chopping carrots. Habits are hard to break. We chatted amicably for a little while, this and that, and then, that chart is burned in my mind, I kept chopping the carrots and answering astrology-based questions.

I answered the astrology question, though, over the din of chopping carrots. Habits, like answering astrology questions, for me, are hard to break.

Pisces: Out of the mouth of babes? “How yawl gone-a do that?” She drawled, as only a female raised with a warm, southern charm to her voice, kindly, and not too judgmental, but the implied question? If I had to imagine this woman, she’d be in Austin, from a little town in West Texas, and she’d be wearing cut-offs, boots, and western yoke shirt with no sleeves, slight twang to it, proper accents and all, “Now how yawl gone dew that?” Probably straw-colored blond hair, too. We can imagine her with a hat, but in this situation, no, she didn’t have hat on, and she was wondering how we (the aforementioned “yawl”) were going to achieve the desired results with a situation that seemed impossible to resolve. Out of the mouth of babes. “How yawl gone do that?” is about as exact as I can transcribe it. We’re looking at an untenable, un-winnable situation around us. Instead of trying to work our way out? Stop. Stand back. The quicker you realize this isn’t your Pisces doing, and the quicker you let whoever made the mess, the sooner you let them clean up their mistakes, the better you’ll be. “How yawl gone do that?”

Out of the mouth of babes.

Aries: In the last half-dozen years, I’ve grown to love and appreciate earbuds for phones, music and more. I once suggested that a 99 cent pair of earbuds was useful for getting annoying people to leave us alone. It’s in the archives, someplace. Recently, though, I picked up a cheap (because I’m hard on equipment) pair of “noise canceling” earbuds. I fitted them in my ears, adjusted the little rubber earpieces, and set off on my merry way. They worked, almost too well. After narrowly missing being hit by a car I plainly didn’t hear, I figured out what the problem was: noise canceling really worked with that one pair of earbuds. Part of the secret was that I spent a few extra minutes to adjust the little rubber rings around the buds that go in my ears, and then, I carefully fitted them altogether, so it was working correctly. Part of the secret was I didn’t care, as they were not expensive earbuds, so I wasn’t married to an outcome.

Finally, or perhaps the dangerous part, I didn’t do a sound check. Worked great, albeit, a little louder than I anticipated. Still, I just walked off like I knew what I was doing, unaware that the only sounds were coming from the phone. Cheap stuff worked really well, as advertised, as long as I took the time to properly fit the earbuds to my ears, the installed rubber rings didn’t work, so I put on a different set. Tight seal, and I didn’t hear the car coming, the music was a little louder, so I wasn’t paying close attention as I started to cross the street, swiveling my head to check at the last instant prevented it from becoming my last instant. There are a couple of lessons from this: 1) I’m a clutz, almost a dead goofball, 2) taking a few extra moments to properly adjust some piece of equipment will yield tangible (audible) results, and most important, 3) look both ways.

About the author: Born and raised in a small town in East Texas, Kramer Wetzel spent years honing his craft in trailer park in South Austin. He hates writing about himself in third person. More at KramerWetzel.com.

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