Horoscopes by the Fishing Guide to the Stars starting 7.24

“Are these the breed of wits so wonder’d at?”

Shakespeare’sLove’s Labour’s Lost [V.ii.266]

Horoscopes by the Fishing Guide to the Stars starting 7.24

The (mighty) Leo: The “Mighty Leo”? Seriously, the best of the best. Here’s the deal, happy birthday and all that stuff, but listen up: let’s take this good fortune, fame and acclaim, let’s take this good stuff, what the planets are serving up, let’s take this and put it to good use. Let’s take this and stretch it out. There’s a highly symbolic gesture required of you. Symbolic, or, maybe, less symbolic and more practical. If this were me? I’d make sure, some time in the next 24 hours, I’d make sure “I wet a-line.” That means, in my language, that I’d fish. Some call it “Drowning bait,” others refer to it as “whipping the water,” an imitation the fishing line flailing back and forth across the water.(1)

I’d hit the local lake, the river, the creek, the ocean, the bay, whatever serves as your ideal location. Then I’d fish. I’d probably try to do it at least for a full morning, but only a few hours, anything is better than nothing. Get after it. One action that you love the most, pursue it.

(1) It’s called “Fishing,” and it’s not called, “catching.”

Virgo: The Rio Grande Valley is one of my main sources for citrus. I was squeezing some locally produced Key Limes for a lime/paprika dish. I’m sure I’ve included the recipes in the blog someplace, and anyway, as I was squeezing these limes, like a dozen or more, I got to thinking about Virgo.

That was a rather labor-intensive way to get lime juice. Granted, it was fresh, and granted, it was delicious, and piquant, and sour, just like a key lime is supposed to be, but squeezing a dozen or more of the little limes? That’s a bit of a chore. The next time? Looking at the Virgo planets this week, and the next time I see a recipe that calls for a dozen limes squeezed fresh by hand? I’m buying a squirt bottle of the stuff, already squeezed. Maybe frozen from concentrate. I don’t care. Sometimes, it’s easier to get the man-made version rather than doing it all by hand. As you start to suffer from Virgo Stress Repetitive Syndrome, like me, from squeezing all those limes? Think that next time, I don’t care what the recipe calls for, I’m buying the stuff already squeezed.

Libra: In the annals of Hollywood movie-making, unscripted lines are epic in scope. Occasionally, in failure, too. However, one — check it out yourself, pop it into a search motor and see — “Here’s looking at you, kid” (Bogart’s character in “Casablanca.”) According to several sources, the line did not appear in the drafts of the screenplay. Instead, it is alleged, the line was something Bogart taught his co-star, Ingrid Bergman, while on the set, teaching her to play poker. It’s an improvisation that became part of the story, then part of the plot and finally, one of the most memorable movie quotes of all time. Mars finally moved in Scorpio. Here’s looking at you, kid.

Scorpio: Never stop learning. Never be too old to experience new sensations, new academic endeavors, new horizons. Can’t be afraid to say, “I don’t know, I’ll have to research that.” I’m Sagittarius, through and through. I have no problem saying, “I don’t know, I’ll make something up.” I fish — my state fishing license is also like a fiction license, mean I can make up stories about what got away.

You’re Scorpio. This isn’t about tall tales, or the fish that you didn’t land, caught it, but it got away. This is about how to answer the week’s question: can I get back to you on that? In other words, don’t be afraid to make an effort to find a solution. “I don’t know, but I’m willing to dig and found out,” is a perfectly acceptable answer.

Sagittarius: Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? “Ah hell no.” I’m not dragging up such comparisons and foisting them on anyone. It’s South Texas and it’s hot. Hotter’n’hell.

Humid, too. Not for the feint of heart, that’s for sure. The old joke, in Austin, had to do with those who moved to Austin under the pretext that the weather was nice, like it was in October or March. Sort of cool in the evenings, and warm days, with comfortable, casual, active attire the rule.

Not really like that, not now. It’s the middle of the summer, and there’s a terribly crude term I use to refer to this weather. It’s uncomfortable to many and it’s hot. Me? I like it just fine, but I’m aggressively casual. Heat doesn’t bother me, and I’m prone to reflect, “Yes, it’s hot, but it’s a wet heat.” So it’s a summer’s day, but it’s a hot one.

Capricorn: Where do the ideas come from? One of the great secrets in my line of work is diverse inputs. I subscribe to a couple of food blogs (read online). I’m not much of a cook, being more of the “drop it into a frying pan if it needs to be cooked” variety of kitchen person. While I’ve tried various preparations, I’ve never followed a recipe closely, with all the grating, sprinkling, rolling, extracting, browning, grilling, stirring, mixing, burnings, baking involved.

If it’s not quick and easy? I probably didn’t do it. Not that I don’t get ideas from the elaborate concoctions I read about, nor, for that matter, it’s not that I don’t gather ideas from these sources, as well.

When looking at spices, especially, like, my pallet, the cooking blogs offer suggestions that I can liberally steal. I can’t say I’ve every used “Orange Zest” in anything I’ve cooked, but I have used the skin of most of a lemon as a “Lemon Zest” as an ingredient. Worked well, but that was in my version, where all the stuff was piled into the frying pan, Kramer-style. (Easy.) The ideas, though, the concepts, I liberally lift from other sources. Look in some place you haven’t, wouldn’t have thought about. Consider different sources for data. In this week’s planet mix, a different source of input helps.

Aquarius: I’m an earth-friendly, hug-a-tree, too-much-time-in-Austin kind of guy. Usually. Environmentally conscious and aware, like most outdoorsmen, I’m in favor of all-natural at every turn. There was a time, and situation that calls for harsh chemicals. As an Aquarius, this goes against most of your core beliefs. There’s an issue that bothers you. Some part of you knows that the next step, the logical next action, you know it’s wrong. Still, when faced with a situation, there’s no other choice, logical or illogical. Of course there’s another choice, but you don’t want to totally relocate. Here’s the deal: bug infestation.

Solution? Bug-bomb. It’s harsh chemicals, not safe for pets or people, certainly not safe for an Aquarius, but the easiest, quickest, most live-able solution? Bug bomb. In the words of the crusaders? “Kill them all, let God sort them out.” I realize this is just an example, and I realize this example is about bugs, but there are some situations that demand a total carpet-bombing routine in order to make your Aquarius self feel secure. Goes against the all-natural, earth-friendly, harm no one attitude, but the advantage is in your safety. You’ll feel more secure. Use the chemicals then wash all the dishes.

Pisces: With the continual data stream available, what with the inter-webs and all? There’s no need to go disconnected from electronic reality for any length of time. Still, analog reality in a digital world is a bit strange. The analog reality is where it happens for my Pisces friends. It’s like this: with that digital, non-stop stream of information? It’s a simple case of being in the right place at the right time with a verbal, sighted, non-digital point that sails across the Pisces bow.

In other words, go to work early, and see if you don’t get the note, the phone call, the piece of paper that makes a difference. Think: analog, not digital. To this day, I still own a couple of fine, expensive wristwatches. Never wear them, as they would interfere with the keyboard, and I started using a phone as a time piece. But I do have them, in case I ever need that kind of analog ephemera. As a Pisces, you might want to check out a non-digital wristwatch, or get to work early, and then? “Strangest thing, this messenger came in on a bicycle and handed me an envelope…” Analog messages and analog messengers? Keywords for this Pisces success this week. Key words.

Aries: My “exercise” music tends towards tribal dance rhythms. Techno, if you will. I’ll listen to that playlist, especially on a hot summer’s afternoon when I’m almost home after a few miles, but not quite there yet. The beat spurs me onwards. I can keep a better pace with the right ambience and musical accompaniment. What was weird, as soon as I was further along, the list played out and some of the Byrds cycled up, followed by a recent effort from Texas troubadour, Joe Ely (Aquarius). The last two are connected by the thinnest stream of continuity, as in, they are both considered “country,” albeit very different versions and possibly decades apart. I was going to advance the music, instead, I slowed my pace and listened while Texas crooner Joe Ely warbled onward. Good song from an excellent songwriter and performer, but most of all, an excellent writer. The words were evocative and gave me pause. As an Aries, try something unexpected. Try for a well-timed pause. At the very least, quit playing the frantic tribal music with drums, and opt for something slower and more meaningful.

Taurus: As Mars moves into a position that is opposite from you, there’s a sense that there’s something, someone, is drawing attention to Taurus. Like someone is chasing you around the stage with a spotlight, and you keep trying to step out of the way. Sort of like the inverse function of the comedic routine where an actor chases the spotlight around the stage. It’s like you keep trying to get away from limelight, but you keep winding up being thrust in front. “And now a word from our spokesperson, your Taurus self!”

I step aside. You step aside. The spotlight follows you. This is good and bad, as in, the acclaim and recognition is good, but the constant spotlight is annoying. “They” keep thrusting you into the center position. Acquiesce long enough to figure out how to drag one of the conspirators up on stage with you. “Here, here’s the microphone, you talk….”

Gemini: In the next seven days, you’re going to develop a very uncharacteristic (for a Gemini) trait — laser vision. A laser-like focus. A way to see a target and a way achieve that single goal, a way to get from here to there, in a single step. One process, one action, a single goal that yields exactly what you want. Maybe get a laser pointer, like the kind most folks use as a cat toy? Maybe something like that would work, Get the little red dot located on a single objective. Single task. As Mars shifts signs, there’s a kind of energy that you can harness. Focus. One thing. At least once, if not more times, you’ll hear people ask if you’re ok, because of that focus. No distractions. Keep your eye on the little, red dot.

Cancer: According to my Fang Sway folks, there shouldn’t be any pictures in the bedroom that are not “couples.” Two of everything. No family pictures except for pictures of the happy couple. One place I had a hand in decorating, the bedrooms featured some of my more experimental photography. Two fishing poles, two seabirds, two boats, not really “couples,” but they were pairs. Two flowers in one image. My Fang Sway skills are notoriously misunderstood and frequently, misquoted. I get whole concepts wrong, and it doesn’t bother me, as it’s another one of those “arts” that sometimes, I wonder, if it isn’t a bunch of made-up whooey. Black Hat, White Hat, Red Hand, not sure what’s valid. However, as a thought, sometimes a really simple adjustment can bring — increase — harmony in the Cancer life. Simple adjustment. With Venus and Mercury where they are? Along with Jupiter in Leo? Think: simple adjustment. Like making sure that the bedroom only has pictures of happy couples. Pairs. Simple adjustment.

• Aperture: ƒ/1.8
• Camera: iPad Pro (11-inch)
• Taken: 29 November, 2022
• Flash fired: no
• Focal length: 3mm
• ISO: 80
• Shutter speed: 1/60s