Horoscopes starting 2.1.2018
Aaron in Shakespeare’s Titus Andronicus II.iii
Eclipse action: see listing for details?
Horoscopes starting 2.1.2018
Buddy of mine been’s writing a sporadic newsletter-like thing for years. I thoroughly enjoy his work. He’s a musician and instrument technician. Pretty simple, straightforward stuff, really. Recently, he’s been on “Voyage of self-discovery,” and he’s explored this by sharing his online journal writings, his newsletter, in bits and pieces, and through his music.
While I would buy his recordings, most them are available online, for free. His other services don’t deal with hardware and software that I’m likely to use, nor will I ever play a musical instrument. Well, it’s pretty high probability I won’t. I’m not mincing words, one should respect one’s strengths.
What I like is my buddy’s ability to wrestle thoughts and feelings onto the page. He writes about the creative process, and while I’m not a musician, the skill sets are easily transferable, from his writing about creating music to my writing about Aquarius, or the other 11 signs, whatever I’m working on at the moment.
As an Aquarius, what skills are transferable? That’s the question and have happy birthday. No, seriously, you’ve been looking at this wrong, there’s a way to do “this” over “there,” same Aquarius skills. Packaging is different, but the skills are the same.
Ever watch, closely, the downtown bicycle messengers? Maybe not so much messengers, but there’s a cadre — a whole fleet — of sandwich delivery guys. Tend to work lunch-time in downtown, threading through occasionally crowded street, navigating sidewalks and buildings, dodging cars and pedestrians with equal finesse.
With a single deft motion, I watched as one swung his backpack around on one strap, fished a delivery out of the bag, handed it over, collected money and tip, I assume, and threaded the strap back on. One, smooth motion. Practiced and secure.
His transaction was complete, and he was saddled up, riding side-saddle for a moment, to push off from the curb, off to his next destination. Or back to the sandwich shop. I’m not sure. Swung his leg over and was away in a blur of legs.
There was no wasted motion, it was a fluid, simple move. Or a choreographed set of moves, but the result was a simple transaction, from practice, I would suppose, with an almost dancer-like grace.
Repetitive actions result in honed skills. Might seem like we’re repeating this set of instructions over and over, but after watching how smooth that guy made it look?
Pisces: Practice — practice — practice.
The “Horoscopes of extraordinary gentlemen?”
Not sure that one will work.
The line I liked though, was the notion that Aries is in a league of extraordinary, whether — not gender specific, ok?
To make this Extraordinary Aries happen? Or rather, to make others see it, too? We have to communicate. Gentle, delicately, and little less brash than before. While I get along with the brusque, Aries manner myself, not everyone gets it.
Be aware of that.
Yeah, not everyone appreciates you the way I do.
Texas Caviar is a local delicacy. It mostly consists of black-eyed peas, mixed, marinated, combined with, or soaked, in vinegar, peppers, dressing, with other veggies, or veggie-like substances.
My primary introduction was the old Threadgill’s, at a time when it was a fiercely independent enterprise that didn’t bow to current trends.
Threadgill’s Texas Caviar is the stuff of legends, as it was always fresh, piquant, and just enough kick to qualify as legitimately “hot,” due, I’m pretty sure, to some diced Serrano peppers, toying with that fine line between, “It’s too hot,” and “can I get some more of this?”
The recipes vary, and no two places are identical, while the essential ingredients remain similar, if not the same.
Taurus would really like something to help take the edge off the current lunar cycles. A recipe for Texas Caviar with room for additions, subtractions, and some kind of balancing agent, to help make it suit your individual tastes. The Taurus tastes need to be indulged, but this is a personal thing. I’d prefer it hotter, but that’s me. (I’m not an epicurean Taurus.)
Buddy of mine, we couldn’t afford therapy for the guy, so I donated a blog. I’d already set up a URL, and I abandoned the idea, after a few days, so it was logical fit for my Gemini buddy. That was more than a decade ago. He thrived, the blog itself spawned books, grew, metastasized, and mutated to its current form.
In that one form, though, the line between fact and fiction is highly amorphous. Putatively, it’s merely a weekly log of what’s happening. In reality? I suspect most of it is probable — and improbable — fiction.
“No, dude, it’s a true story!”
Soon as I read that, or hear it, I suspect there are enhancements, enlargements, judicious, maybe auspicious editing, and tall tales.
This week blurs the line between fiction and reality. The problem being, if we embrace reality as fiction, it might make more sense, but that doesn’t change the facts.
Gemini: not too twisted, OK?
For years and years, I bounced all over the States, mostly Texas but other places as well, and as an independent contractor, I had to be savvy about travel expenses. Cheap seats, cheap fares, cheap hotels, all of that. The Ride Share services (Lyft, Uber, etc.) changed how I get to the airport, that’s for sure. Used to cost $40 in a cab, and the ride share app shows the it was less than 10 bucks, last time.
That’s a top-line savings.
None of my ride share experiences have been as frightening as the one cab ride in Austin, some years ago. I have to assume the cab driver was in an alternate reality, but I’m here, so I made it.
This is about how we manage our Cancer/Moon-child “resources.”
That term, “resources,” can have different meanings to different people. In my simplest example, the disruptive power of various ride-share plans, that’s a substantial savings.
This next few days is about shopping, Perhaps trying. Maybe not. Maybe just looking at price sheets and getting cost/value comparisons, all lined up, side by side, so you can shop. Looking at my example, though? Yeah, that one was worth it.
Online, I found an image of graph paper, and the color scheme was reversed. The lines were white against a dark, almost black background. Kind of gray, but pretty dark. Looked like every fifth line was thicker, too. I’ll suppose it was originally inch-squares, but I’m unsure, as this was digitally reproduced, all lined up nice, looked even. It was — supposedly — “wallpaper” for a tablet. Or laptop, but a tablet seemed best. I toyed with this, and eventually, I merely grabbed a digital copy of an old notebook, graph paper-style, and used that.
Only, with mine? The lines bent because it was an older Moleskin-brand source. The curve made an interesting background, and more than one person has studied the face of the tablet, trying to figure out what doesn’t line up quite correctly.
I never got around to reversing the color scheme, so it looks like yellowed graph paper, at this time. Maybe one day, I can try with it in a graphics editor, but then, that’s too much work for something that really isn’t that important.
As The majestic Leo, what is a good way to spend your time? Messing around with an image that is nothing more digital wallpaper? If you were going to sell it, sure. But in my case? I’m just idly toying with it, and it’s not a big deal.
As The majestic Leo, what is a good way to spend your time?
“Wait! Look, they have some that looks like lined notebook paper.”
Woman sat down in front of me and asked me to teach her to read charts the way I do. (See Bare Foot Astrology for more.) Problem being, there isn’t a single approach that I use. The term, “Cook Book” astrology refers to the endless texts that do a step-by-step analysis of an individual chart. While valuable as a form of astrological analysis, it isn’t the always the correct route, not for me. I tend towards a free-wheeling, wide-open style that incorporates various techniques. Depends on the chart and the situation. In some charts, it’s the house placements. In other charts, it’s the planets in signs, and in some charts, it’s the patterns. All depends. It’s situational and client-driven.
All about process.
Not individual steps.
As this energy unfolds? Next few days, next week, this month, and moving forward? For Virgo? It’s about “process,” not individual steps.
One, lone Virgo Voice, crying in the (astrological) wilderness, “But I need to know how!”
Think: process — not individual instructions. You can figure those out as you go.
Verbs for Libra? Mold, meld, bend, flow. Four action words, verbs, really, and action for Libra to consider. The recent state of the stars unleashes a rather “fixed” energy, and one that is resistant to change. Libra tends to be adaptable. This week calls for more adaptable moves than usual. Mold, meld, bend, and flow.
Libra: as you encounter terribly “fixed” problems, a stubborn person, a situation that refuses to change although change is obviously an easier answer? The way to work the energy, to your Libra advantage? Be willing to mold to a new scene, sort of meld — melt — into the situation rather than being another obstruction. Listen, bend, and — if need be — flow around the problem. That problem can be a person, a place, or a thing. It’s not a particular issue, not in the grand overview, and getting caught up in the details turns a temporary obstacle into a bigger problem.
Nothing’s worse than watching a small problem turn into a huge issue with diligent and applied concern.
“Wasn’t a big deal but now it kind of is.”
February is fraught with strange energies. The marketing push is Valentine’s Day, the Sun is in the Tropical Zodiac Sign of Aquarius, and the planets are in a subtle disarray for Scorpio.
Ever get the feeling there’s “something” that doesn’t line up quite right? That’s the essence of the week, and what a good Scorpio can do with that energy?
Always question authority.
The challenge for my good Scorpio is the way this energy is directed. Questions, and questioning, are good. But leading questions, or questions wherein you already know the answer and are pushing towards a specific goal? Not such a good way to go. That typical, probing question where you know you have specific answer in mind, where, as the person asking the question you want a certain outcome, an answer you expect to hear?
Open-ended questions are good. Ones that have a definite Scorpio sub-text might not work.
Know what I mean?
There are some days, just try as we might, can’t seem to please anyone. Despite the best of Sagittarius intentions? Despite my heart being in the correct space, despite all our Archers’ hearts in the right places? Our good will and best effort will piss off some people.
I would like to think I’m above that, and that I can rise up, and we can overlook a petty insult, diatribes, outright ad hominem attacks, and similar misdirected outbursts.
Some days, even a few days, some days we could use a cuddle. Or a hug. Some kind of gentleness, and such doesn’t seem to be very forthcoming.
If the necessary — desired — if the much-need affection is not forthcoming from other people? As a decent Sagittarius with a heart of gold, we are best served if we give ourselves a metaphorical pat on the shoulder, and some kind of internal “Way to go, I’m proud of us.”
One — actually, she’s a vendor — local young lady? Is that even political correct. Never mind, this one girl? When I met her, her hair was flaming red, and not a natural color. More recently, it was shaved on one side, sort of San Antonio blonde, which is to imply, an obvious dye job. Suicide blonde, to some, “Dyed by her own hand.” That was part of the intended look. Last time, it was blue, or green, or blue then green.
We were talking about a new place in town. Her comment, consider how I was judging her, based on her appearances?
“Oh man, that place, it’s like it tries too hard to be hip. Just full of hipsters!”
Amused me to think she didn’t think of herself as a hipster, although, demographically, and — stylistically — that’s what she made me think of.
This is a case of classic visual irony to me, in its finest form.
Capricorn: watch out for the ironic statements, unless, of course, that’s what you’re striving for. I could never tell, not with her.