Horoscopes by the Fishing Guide to the Stars starting 9.4

    “You should take true root but by the fair weather
    That you make yourself: it is needful that you
    Frame the season for your own harvest.”
    Shakespeare’s Much Ado About Nothing [I.iii.9]

Horoscopes by the Fishing Guide to the Stars starting 9.4.2014

VirgoVirgo: My usual August fishing trips were slightly marred by my own undoing. At one point, one trip, there were three of us in the boat, hot summer sun, and I’d sprayed on “kid-safe” sunscreen. I thought it was kid-friendly, or child-proof, I’m not sure. What happened, as the sun got higher and higher in the sky, then, with three fish on, and three of us in the boat, hot South Texas sun? Sweat started to leak that sunscreen into my eyes. With fish on, it’s near impossible to take a break, and there’s no easy way to deal with the incipient burn from the sweat rolling off and leeching that stupid, “Kid-friendly, SPF-45” sunblock into my eyes. It was not suffer discomfort, or reel in a big fish. Decisions. I couldn’t hand my pole off to another one, as we all had fish on at the moment. The other part of this, if I hadn’t used the sunscreen? I’d been miserable, and miserably sun-burned. The clue, happy Virgo birthday, the hint? Suffer the sunscreen to the eyes, did you see the size of the fish? Pictures, I’m sure, are on the website someplace. Big fish. Minor discomfort. Worth it? I’d think so.

Libra: I was in South Texas, listening to a local radio, ostensibly, County and Western, with local flavor, which would be more Texana, as a branch of Americana. Twangy accents and electric guitars, local stuff, mostly. Some singer was moaning on and on about “Whiskey drunk,” and I didn’t catch all of it. However, from the narrow plot and the song’s sad storyline, the whiskey-drunk was responsible for the current state of the singer’s affairs. Can we blame the “whiskey-drunk?”

I wonder if there’s a planet-drunk, or punch-drunk, or even whiskey-drunk that affects the normally well-balanced Libra? From what little I know about biology and the chemistry of alcoholic beverages, the fundamental difference between whiskey-drunk, as told in the song, and beer-drunk, also a musical allusion, there’s really no difference. However, according to the minstrel, there was a big difference. He blamed the whiskey for the terrible things he said. Couldn’t have been his own words, with his frontal lobes dulled by alcohol? I’d tend to see it that way. I also tend to stay away from possibly explosive or emotionally dangerous narrative when in the grips of “too much,” and that can be too much booze, or anything.

It’s not a good sign to seek advice from C&W songs, but as a starting point, not a bad place to start. Blame the whiskey?

Scorpio: Aransas Pass and Port Aransas are two sides of the divide, the InterCoastal Waterway. A ferry, operated by the Texas Department of Transportation runs pretty much 24 hours a day, year round. Takes about 90 seconds to cross the deep-water channel. I’ve fished around it, ridden the ferry a number of times, and always get amused by the road signs. Like a long list of disclaimers, there are warning signs with ferry rules and regulations, posted for seven miles or so that lead along the long spit of land that dead-ends at the ferry landing. My favorite, and best illustration of news for Scorpio? “Ferryboat capacity is limited to as many as can be safely loaded at a time.” Perfect for the fine print, and I think it’s already there, from years ago. Makes sense, the ferry rules.

As a Scorpio, you can only take on as much as can be safely handled right now. If you try to overload yourself, you’ll risk capsizing or sinking.

Sagittarius: For someone who drinks a lot of espresso based drink, I don’t own a real espresso machine. Moreover, I can’t operate one. I can be an excellent critic, and I can taste the difference between grinds, locations, roasters and so forth. I can be quite a snob but I can’t step behind the machines themselves and make the espresso or foam the milk. I prefer a “spoutless” espresso basket, and I’ve gotten fond of the medium-dark roasts, from the French/Parisian Schools. I can tell a difference between various local coffees in Austin, San Antonio, Seattle and Santa Fe. There are numerous other location, but I’ll try to keep this short. Besides, an espresso shot is made “expressly for you,” and it’s kind of a personal thing. However, this is an example of an action I’m an expert critic at, but I can’t do it myself. I fully understand the fruits of the labors, and I grasp the concepts — hot water, pressure, steam, the multitude of coffee roasts — but I can’t undertake the actual production itself. Recently, I learned that the proper “tamp,” the way the finely ground beans are packed into the basket, that matters as well. Again, I’ve got advice, observations and critiques, but I can’t do it myself. As a Sagittarius, we must stop and think, is this something that we have real-world, hands-on experience with, or are we just critics, in my example of myself, an excellent coffee critic, but not a real expert.

Capricorn: For a couple of years, I’d get to do a Labor Day fishing trip. With my buddies, I was the great Fishing Guide to the Stars, and my other duty was coffee. To that end, I’d stop at this one, huge, “super” market that had everything from fishing gear and live bait, to groceries, to specialty beer and even surf boards — real long boards — one time. That store also carried illy-branded (Italian) coffee. Espresso roast. There was a lesser known brand next to it, also sporting an Italian flag, so also, supposedly the best coffee ever. I used to get the illy brand, and for the American taste of my fishing buddies, I’d get the mellower “medium” roast (not espresso). The last time, we went down a week ago, pre-emptive Labor Day trip, I stopped at that store, and instead of the usual brand of coffee, I got something off the shelf, right next to it. Still had the Italian flag on it, was still named for winning gold medals, and was, as it turns out, a better coffee — at least to my fishing buds and their American palates. Look next to what you’re used to find the winner, this week.

Aquarius: For several years, I’d wear long-sleeve “fishing” shirts for all my outdoor activities, which, more than anything else, was just fishing. The long-sleeve shirts, from February through December, were usually rolled up with the sleeves tied in place by the little loops and button, sort of a flap-like thing. Last time out, I was careful and applied sun-block all over. I got one spot on both arms, a thin band of a burn from a twelve-hour day on the water, right at the spot where the rolled up sleeve rubbed against my arm. Just below the elbow, I’ve got the funniest set of lines, the shirt’s fabric rubbed off the sub-block. Just the thinnest, oddest line of red sunburn on each arm, below the elbow. Couple of options to remedy this: no sunblock and get burned, too much sun-screen and ruin a shirt, greasier, messier sun-block and have a miserable time, or, like I did to start out, wind up with a thin, shard-like strip of skin kind of crispy. I don’t know what your balance point is, but in my way of seeing, what I’ve decided to use works rather well. Besides, on more than one occasion, I’ve had to roll those sleeves down in the middle of the August sun, for extra protection. Looking for balance? That’s what I’m suggesting, look for the balance point.

Pisces: An obstacle is only an obstacle as long as you let it be an obstacle. Sounds a little too “zen” for my people. Sounds a little too circular, even for me. However, as I fiddled with the Pisces chart, I kept seeing that there weren’t any real obstacles, just temporary impediments that can be circumvented. Where I make my dollars, showing you how to get around whatever is in the way. Here’s the way around that problem you’re facing, even as you think about this horoscope: look to the left, a little. Or the right, but I tend to lean a little to the left, so I’d suggest left, first. But look, look around, look to the side, look at options other than trying to go right through that fixed object in front of you. It’s only a temporary impediment to your forward Pisces progress, and as such, there’s nothing stopping you. Work around the problem, maybe not trying to go through it. Work around.

Aries: I’ve seen this in a total of three cities — so far. In the local example, and in at least two places I’ve been recently, there was an office, near downtown, looked like a steakhouse. The rough-hewn wood exterior, the hint of smoke from a grill, the aromatic blend of meat sizzling, and the hint of ice tea, baked potatoes — with everything? Looks, smells, seems to be a steakhouse. All three times, for all I know, the building might’ve been a steakhouse of certain vintage, at one time, but now? All three places were lawyer offices. Some collection of names, then “Lawyers Offices,” or “Esquire,” or something, maybe an LLC to tip off the idea that they were lawyers, not steak chefs. Simple case of mistaken identity on my part, and also a situation where the obvious conclusion, steakhouse, is not correct. Visual clues are useful, but this next couple of days? Can’t trust visual clues alone. Here’s a piece of advice, read what the sign says before you enter, expecting to be greeted by waitress who will serve you 16-ounce prime.

Taurus: A typical “Martian” reaction is quick, focused, and usually wrong. There’s still a prevailing Mars influence, and as such, I’d watch out for that “martian” reaction. Doesn’t do well for Taurus. It’s a push, a shove, a hint, a kick, some kind of motion, and while it feels correct at the instant? In about three minutes, maybe three hours, or at the very latest, about three days later, you get that sinking, “Oh crap. I shouldn’t have done that.” There are two kinds of mistakes along these lines. There are the situations where, when asked, “Would you do that again?” I have to answer, “Even though it turned out wrong, same situation, again? I’d do it all over, the same way.” The other kind, which covers this week’s Martian Influence better? “If I could do it all over again? I’d do it differently.” That’s the clue. First reaction, first instinct, first move, first gut-reaction? Might not be the best answer to the question. Might want to rethink that martian influence before you do something you might regret in three.

Gemini: I’ve been quoting Shakespeare every week for the better part of two decades. I’ve enjoyed most of the plays, on stage, on film, on film of a stage play, or just in text form. One play I’ve always liked because of its moral ambiguity and uneven texture is “Troilus and Cressida.” The original, from Chaucer, is a touching love story, set against the backdrop of the Trojan War. Shakespeare’s version is problematic at best. When I first read it, I just assumed it was black comedy, and further academic research proved me somewhat correct; although, the term had yet to be employed, as black comedy wasn’t invented for another two centuries. Doesn’t stop my reading of the play to bleakly comic in a sad and twisted way, which, if you know me, suits my humor. Love, loss, remorse, regret. Next couple of days, all of that is bubbling to the surface for Gemini. Love, loss, regret, remorse, catharsis, happiness, joy, all of it is there. The trick is to embrace the good stuff, and put a spin on the rest of it so your Gemini self is happy.

cancerCancer: I got one Virgo lass, client, drives herself crazy with lists. Lists of things to do, lists of goals, then, lists of lists. Gets a kind of silly and little reductive at times, I means, seriously? A list of lists that you want to list? That’s the problem with this next couple of days, you start with a simple “To-do” list that begats another, “don’t want to do” list, which has to be amended to a third list, “something I want to do, but not now,” and the lists multiply outward in concentric circles until you’re buried under lists of lists. Easiest solution? Stop making lists. Easy enough for me to suggest, bit harder for you understand or implement. Better yet, let’s make a list of what you should get done this week, including, that top item, “No more lists.”

LeoThe (mighty) Leo: Stop scattering your energies, your highness. I was fishing, not long ago, and we had this one, extra-special spot. Perfect place as the back bay drained into the main channel, and we were parked, I’d said anchored, but it was just a long spike in the soft seaweed bottom, and we waited. As the tide started to drain the back lake, the fish gathered to feast on the bait, draining out. Patience pays off. Patience and some secret bait (fresh mud minnows). Instead of running and gunning all over the lake, just stick to one spot. Pays off plenty well for mighty, and wonderful, Leo.

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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