When beggars die there are no comets seen;
The ravens themselves blaze forth the
death of princes.

Calphurnia in Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar 2.2.31

New Moon in Gemini 5.25.2017 at 2:44 PM —

Horoscopes starting 5.25.2017

Gemini:

Some years ago, I vowed to move to a more plant-based diet. Not totally vegetarian, no, that’s not happening, just trying to cut back on meat, in general, and add in leafy, green foods. It works fine until I start to mix up some turnip greens, or collard greens, or spinach. Each one of those leafy, green items is best with a piece of old ham bone floating in the mix. Or a slab of bacon. Or some bacon fat. Something like that. Adds much-needed flavor, makes the green crap way more interesting in taste. Just needs something magical to make the mix taste better. As a Gemini, and with this New Moon, as this next couple of days unfolds, we all need a little bacon grease, or ham bone, something to spice it up. The idea of healthier, vegan-type diet is great. But where I’m from, with a history steeped in Southern Cooking? Yes, just needs a piece of pork to make it all taste better. Find that magical bacon grease for Gemini.

Cancer:

How long? How long before “it” gets better? I need a little time. Not much, but a little time. Have to give me that. I don’t ask for much, but I’m begging my Cancer friends for a few moments before you start hitting the wall and clamoring for “better.” Sounds worse than that, I just need a little time. I’ll do my best to make it “better,” but in order to get that accomplished? I need a little more time. Not much, just a little. So, “How long?”

48 Hours. No, not the movie, not anything like that, at all. The problem with me begging for 48 hours of the Cancer’s time? The perspicacious Cancer will ask, “48 hours from the new moon point?”

Maybe. Might be 48 hours from some other point in your individual chart. All I need, though, is 48 hours, from that point, and then? Everything is better. I can’t get there until you give us 48 hours to make this right. Really, it’s not me who’s going to make this right, it’s the astrological influence, more pointedly, the path of the moon.

But I need 48 hours to make it better.

The Leo:

It never ceases to amaze me the number of people who don’t listen to what I say. I get paid — sometimes good money — to make comments and prognostications based on charts and relevant astrological data, only to have my valuable commentary completely ignored. I’d say it hurts, but after being in this business for so long, I’ve gotten used to it. I’m used to being ignored. Or listening while my advice is thoroughly twisted around — subject to porous memory, and then I get blamed.

Leo: Listen carefully. Like me, you’re going to be ignored, avoided, or skipped over. Or worse, you’ll make a suggestion that goes unheeded, only to have the results be unfavorable for those who did not heed the Leo suggestions. The trick is not get all offended. Roll with it. The coolest trick yet, under that magnificent Leo head of hair? The coolest expression? Mutter, with your head down, “I told you so.”

Mutter, don’t yell. That’s how to play it.

Virgo:

“That’s not my job.” Very simple expression. For me, it’s also a clause in a contract, unwritten, unspoken, but a contract between me and the readers, the Virgo readers of this weekly missive, it’s a definition about what I can — and what Virgo can’t — do. Willing to do, maybe, able to do, sure, but seriously? What was that expression?

“That’s not my job.”

Super simple. I know what I’m good at. As a Virgo, you know what you’re good at, too. We have our strengths. We also have certain weaknesses, and it looks like, to me, some unscrupulous person is attempting to foist off onto Virgo a task that your Virgo self is perfectly capable of handling, but I doubt that you want to, or that it suits your temperament. It’s also less about outright manipulation, more along the lines, of “You know what that weasel did, tried to get me to do?”

I have one pat answer for this week’s Virgo energy. I think you know it, now.

“That’s not my job.”

If you take on a burden like that? You know what I’ll say, when you cry and complain?

Libra:

“Street Tacos,” or “Mexican street tacos” became a thing, a food thing, some years ago. To me, it’s not an art form, it was basic grub, back when I lived in neighborhood where English was the second language. Street tacos were basic urban food. These days, the humble taco is not so humble, and its art form is a new creation. From street to fine dining. As I spun around the charts to look at Libra’s influences, I kept thinking about the good, old days when I got a basket of street tacos, typically “al pastor,” for a few bucks, with plentiful meat, onions and cilantro. Not sure what the meat was, but then, I never said I was good at Spanish, and I never worried. It was thoroughly cooked and quite tasty — whatever it was. These are my roots, and these are the roots for the current “street taco” craze, sweeping some food circles.

Now, as a suggestion, in your neighborhood, whatever is the equivalent of “street tacos,” as this will vary, but whatever the equivalent is? Time for Libra to seek out some roots. Back to basics. For me, that’s simple. I found an old — and familiar — taco joint on the south side of town, and head down their for lunch. There’s a world of invention and Libra innovation by returning to basics. Roots. Where you’re from to move you forward.

Scorpio:

Check in with your Scorpio committee. You do have one, don’t you? It’s old, sage advice I’ve doled out over the years, about making decisions, and some decisions required a committee. Now, the way I usually frame this advice, it involve a female who’s been making bad decisions about dating, and the idea is, she would get a group of three female friends, or two female, and one effeminate male, and these three would have the final say on a second or third date, after viewing the relevant data and proper Social Media research.

One Scorpio is going to complain that this is rigged, since it doesn’t apply to him.

Not how this works. It might not be dating advice, and the reason that there are three, presumably good friends, is that each one will have a valid point of view, and drawing from a base of all three? That really helps with the numbers. Scorpio types don’t usually have a lot of close friends, but the ones the Scorpio do have? Tight and seriously only interested in what is best for that Scorpio. It’s a judgement call, this week, but I’d prefer if you consult with your committee before making a commitment to another date. Or whatever that offer is. If one votes, “No,” but two vote, “Yes?” I think we have enough of a consensus to call it good.

Scorpio: Consult with your committee, first.

“Closing arguments?”

Sagittarius:

I’m not a fan of cosmic testing. I’m not a big proponent of letting the Universe, whatever one believes in, “test me” to see how far I’ve come. I’m not into being a guinea pig for some kind of universal pop-quiz, and yet? That’s what this week means to Sagittarius. I am one, I know. It’s coming, is it bad? Maybe. What have we done thus far to insure that this isn’t a miserable time? Before Saturn ever crawled into Sagittarius, I aligned myself with the forces of good, battling evil, and I endeavored to find the most correct path for me. I knew what was going on. Or rather, I knew what was up ahead, and this is the tail end of that. This one, this week, is more amusing to me, than anything else, because, as I’ve stated, I saw this coming. There is the course correction — fast approaching. One Sagittarius, hello darling, is going to call this a “Coarse correction,” because the way this is working is going to be scratchy linen and crude behaviors. Coarse correction, indeed. So the bywords for this, as Mars skates opposite from Saturn? Watchful, mindful, and willing to adapt. There will be more than one (Gemini) nudge so pay attention.

“Coarse correction, my rosy Sagittarius backside, you know what happened?”

Can’t say I didn’t warn you.

Capricorn:

There’s a kind of yellow light, I looked out the window and noticed it, and to me? I was raised along the border of the twister alley, so to me, yellow light like that means Tornado Weather. Twisters. Amusing, in a way only — perhaps — a Capricorn can appreciate, to see something like that yellow light, sort of sickly yellow to some, and here? In South Texas? The light doesn’t mean quite the same thing. There’s a foreboding, ominous to some, a warning to others, and yet, to the obstreperous Capricorn? There’s a kind of delight from seeing this light.

In other places, like, say Northern New Mexico? That yellow light is what attracts the artists, think “Georgia O’Keefe,” and others from the New Mexico School, or the Southwestern School, or whatever that artistic grouping is currently labelled.

Me? I see that yellow light and the first thought that pops into my mind? I wonder where the cases of water are. I am “disaster-planned,” three ways over. Still, the yellow light? What does it mean to you?

One Capricorn buddy, not known for his safe manners, “Yellow light? Means punch it.” Refers to an accelerator and traffic light combination. Which is why, when I see yellow lights, I’m cautious.

The current yellow light in Capricorn? Good or bad? Depends on what you do.

Aquarius:

While I just adore my Aquarius buddies, there’s stranger than usual energy loose upon the land. As such, there’s a weird thing going on: has to do with how you express love in a relationship. That’s not it exactly, but that’s as close as I can come without resorting to too much technical talk. It’s about echoes and resonances, and planets that are associated with other signs, and the impact that has on your chart. Boiling it down to simpler terms? It’s about how you — Aquarius — communicates with your other, non–Aquarius lovers. Friends, family, co-workers, whatever the nature of the relationship might be at the time.

See, communications with Aquarius are always a little off. Not good, not bad, just different by degrees, and this is a week where we’re refining those techniques. It’s about how, and why, what you communicate. When I’m working with an Aquarius, I know exactly what I’m dealing with. I communicate just fine, usually, with Aquarius. Your eccentricities and marvelous metaphors dovetail right into my Sagittarius understanding of the Aquarian World. However, it should be duly noted, I’m but a lone voice in a sea of thousands — thousands who just don’t get it — right now. Think about wrapping that Aquarius communication in some kind of a wrapper that helps the other folks figure it out. A simple key-code might be an easy example.

It’s really a simple substitution cipher, but it helps if you provide the rest, especially that loved one, with a key to understand the metaphors this week.

Pisces:

Love me that Pisces imagination. To a decent Pisces, though, it’s not an “imagination,” it’s a function of various mental states, alternate realities trucking along right next to consensual reality, the one most of us, non-Pisces people share. To a Pisces, this is a mental playground. Wonderful place. Wonderful stuff. Now, this week’s secret is how to drag elements from the Pisces “Dream-Life” back down into a reality that the rest of us can share.

It might be a struggle. Might be a little more challenging than you think, as what we’re trying to accomplish for a goal in the Pisces Alternative Reality, as a Pisces, you’re trying to communicate what it is the you see, what it is that you feel, what your perceptions are, you’re trying to bring that into a form that the rest of us can understand. It’s not without hope. Not without a good chance of success, either, it’s just that, trying to communicate what you understand, what you know is true? Good luck getting the rest of us to understand, at this moment. Kind of of a challenge, and might want to take a tip from Aries.

Aries:

Everything comes in pairs. It’s the week for pairs. It’s a week for pairs of everything in Aries land. Double the trouble, double the fun. Taken correctly, it works quite well for Aries, but there’s a sense that that needs to be handled correctly.

I’m here to help.

Double. Double up. Double down. Double. Figure it should take an hour? Estimate that task at 2 hours, instead. Only takes half an hour? You erred correctly, because now we have another hour and half to mess around with the finished product, and make room for improvements. Double the expectations, and see that roll into half. Mars opposes Saturn, and that sets up a strange dynamic, for Aries. All of this is about taking the existing estimate, done in good Aries faith, and doubling that estimate. Or, like this, I charge by the hour. So, if I were an Aries, instead of charging for an hour, I’d charge for two. See how this is about twice as much? Two of everything?

Taurus:

The New Moon serves as a Taurus trigger point, and this is less a physical shift, and more like a mental change. Frequently, I read that Taurus don’t change their Bull-like minds. Fixed. Stubborn. Set in their ways. Stubborn. Not what this is about, not the generalities, not like that, at all. Besides, as I often observed, I don’t find Taurus to be a “stubborn” sign more like, cautious. Err on the side of caution, which means, preferring not to err, which means, preferring not to change — just yet. “Stubborn?” No, just being extra cautious. Which is why this is that coolest little trigger point for Taurus, there’s a gradual shift. Not a big deal, just a slight change.

I’ve sworn, up and down, for years, that I don’t like chocolate. Just not my thing. I’m not female. However, there’s this one place, has the best “Pollo Mole,” or Chicken Mole, or whatever one would choose to call it. Half a chicken slathered in a rich, homemade mole sauce, the base ingredient for mole? Chocolate. But call it “mole” instead of chocolate? And tell me it’s the best in this area? I’ll give it a spin.

That represents a change in my thinking, not a huge shift, a gentle shift. Taurus, be willing to try. Be willing to experiment a little All starts with a shift in your Taurus thinking.