Horoscopes for 7-8-2021

Horoscopes for 7-8-2021

O then I see Queen Mab hath been with you.
She is the fairies’ midwife, and she comes
In shape no bigger than an agot-stone
On the forefinger of an alderman,
Drawn with a team of little atomi
Over men’s noses as they lie asleep.

Austin and San Antonio, this weekend — astrofish.net/travel for details.


The Crab - the Moonchild I was spoiled some years back, by live theater. R&J is an obvious crowd pleaser, and I’ve seen it a number of times, with the movie versions sort of pieces that I would judge by. Not good, just the way I understand the play. I was watching a recording of a staged version, sort of idly, and what amazed me — Shakespeare’s Romeo & Juliette — we all know how this ends. What was so good, the way that speech from Mercutio was delivered, and I would’ve quoted the whole thing, but it’s near 50 lines long. The way the speech was delivered was a veritable emotional roller coaster and that passage above? It was three distinct and different shades, all in a short space. I’ve seen that speech done, dozens of times, but never like that. Same words, same speech, different direction and oddly different inflections. It’s about range, and reading fresh breath into a stale passage. Or finding new meaning where it wasn’t before. Looking at something new, or listening, or in this situation, just a pleasant filler passage, being wrung out for all its worth, from an up and coming super-star.


The LeoLove and hate exist in separate orbs, and yet, for two apparently dissimilar energies, they are remarkably close. The passion, the excitement, the raw fission between the two, what, which one is it? Love? Hate?

Mars and Venus excite The Leo’s passions, and it’s quite easy to get the two elements confused. Instead of me trying to waste our precious “Royal” time attempting to figure out what the Mars and Venus thing will be doing, something just like this, instead of wasting time? All I can do is make you aware that Love and Hate are merely two sides of the same coin. Be extra careful with those energies. Look at Romeo, and more important, Mercutio: “O then I see Queen Mab hath been with you.”


Pause button. What does your Virgo pause button look like? I’m thinking, it’s just two vertical bars, with a play button on the right side, and backwards button, pointing the other way, on the left side and then a fast forward button, right past the play button. Simple enough, and it’s almost a universal set of symbols. So, as long as Mars and Venus are where they are? Hit the Virgo pause button. Thank me later, but before you get too wound up about an issue? Internally, sure, but on the outside? Hit that pause button. Slow it down, don’t jump ahead, and don’t get worked up. Or don’t show that you’re worked up over a perceived slight. Perceived sleight. If you have to? Before you speak, or play, or whatever? Hit the pause button. Save me from having to rescue your Virgo self at a later date.


Shift thirty degrees. Left or right, might vary from individual to individual. Whatever true north is in your specific situation? Just shift. A little. Not a lot, just a little. My first suggestion is this is in the career sector, but that’s not really what this is, close, but not quite, and that’s why a gentle shift, one direction or another. Not a hard, right angle, not like being at a four-way stop, where there are only cardinal directions, no, there’s always that other one. Five-point intersection in old Austin, was like that. North-South-East-West, and then there was a single, thin lane that ran sort of North-easterly. Or southwesterly, I guess, depends on which direction one was heading, but that’s the perfect example. That little side street was a curious mix of residential sandwiched between small-business commercial, and the street wasn’t too wide, so it would never be a popular destination, but not a bad place, either. 30 degrees away from the center point. Not more than a few degrees one way — or another.


I’ve enjoyed the complete range of coffee, from gas station coffee (see Capricorn), to the finer elements of single-source, hand-roasted, individually-served estate coffee. One of the little treats I get? I’ve got a large, sealed container for storing coffee beans. I’ll use if for cheap, grocery store, roasted stuff, or organic, free-range, all-natural exotic from far-flung locations. I tend to use all of the coffee before refilling, but then there are the dregs. The few beans left behind. Every once in a while, I’ll scrape the bottom of that canister and find a unique blend of light and dark roast, expensive, exotic, and crassly commercial, then, I’ll mix that up in the grinder to get a weird cup of coffee. Some nuanced flavors don’t make it, but some of the flavor does. As coffee, it’s good, does the job, gets me up and going, but as flavorful mix, it’s even better. It’s a “mutt,” as in several different breeds of coffee, all in one. Strange brew. Sometimes, I can detect notes from the expensive stuff, but sometimes, the old French Roast from the store overpowers it all. Never can tell. However, as a coffee? For me and in the morning? For Scorpioany time? It’s the perfect launch point. It’s a non-purist mix of good, great, and barely adequate, and like the coffee I had the other day? Turned out to be rather good. Light but fully caffeinated.


e-mail Great idea: S-P-S. For my Sagittarius brethren and sisteren? My newly devised term, SPS? Spin, Pivot, Study. The way it should play out? Study, then pivot, then spin, but the way it will probably work this next couple of days? Something sets us spinning, unexpected news, then we must pivot in place to deflect the material headed our way, and finally, we get enough time to study the problem to determine a solution, and take steps to implement that solution from our study. Ah well, we’re Sagittarius, are we not? The best action is not action, but to study the problem, the challenges as afforded by the planets, then adjust our courses as need be. But like our “Archer Archetype,” my guess is we shoot first, then do a little dance in place, then figure out the correct answer. Can’t say I didn’t try to set this us with a simple acronym to make it easier to recall. SPS. Study Pivot Spin. Or, my guess, Spin Pivot Study.


This again?” Yes, this again. There is no “cloud.” The “cloud” is merely another computer, or, more properly, an array of computer-based storage, located “elsewhere.” Not in the sky, no, more likely a data center on one of the coasts, with certain European and Pac-Rim locations a strong possibility, as well. But no, the “cloud” isn’t really a cloud. It is data that stored elsewhere. One of the sites, one of the companies I used? Amused me greatly, the e-mail was in Oregon and the website files were in Virgina. West and East Coasts. Kind of far apart. This week is about busting one of your own, deeply held myths. Don’t be afraid to scrape the packaging off the question, looks like astrological shrink-wrap, and once you peel the plastic off? You might discover, like I did, “There is no cloud — it’s just another computer, someplace else.”


Mars (and Venus) in Leo. Simple example, I was slicing some veggies. I’ve got an old, large, cheap kitchen knife, looks like a butcher’s knife to some, and that’s what I like to slice, dice, and chop with. The coating’s worn thin in places, and the blade, in order to keep it sharp? I will “whet” it on the backside of a china plate. Old trick, don’t know where I learned it, probably a life hack, but the blade stays super-sharp if I just run it a lick or three over the backside of some family china. Dinner plate, about all I’ll ever use them for. But this isn’t about the knife, or the way I sharpened it on the back of dinner china, no, the last time when Mars was opposite from me? Slicing veggies. Sharp kitchen knife that doesn’t look sharp, but it is. Know how I know? Little knick on a finger that was holding a vegetable about to be diced into a frying pan. At the moment of impact, I just cursed and wrapped a towel around the nick. No harm, no foul, only, I leaked blood, like, everywhere. Again, not a big deal, just a deal. However, as an Aquarius reminder? After sharpening that knife, or that wit? Best be careful that you don’t hurt yourself — or others. While it wasn’t really painful, I forgot how sharp my little trick makes that knife. Something to think about.


Mars and Venus are next to each other, but not really easy to see, just, like, maybe right after sunset, but even then, I don’t know. Too close to call, now. But as they are next to each other, and that “sunset” position, relative to Pisces? Make it work. Make it work, and make it pretty. I prefer my order, “Make it work,” and then, “make it pretty.” Besides, let’s be brutally honest here, “Pretty” varies from person to person. I have a picture of a mean old bass, old cow of a fish, and to me? That’s one of the prettiest fish I’ve ever seen. She’s scarred, her lip is pierced from being caught and released several times, she has that look in her eye like, “I’m going to rip your head off,” and she put up a good fight. She bears the scars of a valiant fighter, a majestic warrior queen, if you will. I will. So, to me, that’s a pretty fish. Mars and Venus exhort Pisces to “Make pretty,” with your definition, however that plays out for you.


e-mail They are called by various names, but I think of them, most frequently, as “Fiesta Flags.” They are long strings of plastic squares, usually cutout into shapes and messages, and to me, the colors, the size, the locations? To me, the Fiesta Flags look just like typical Tibetan Prayer Flags, which, in and of itself, is an amusing notion, as Tibetan Buddhist don’t “pray,” but meditate. No prayer. However, the purpose of the Tibetan Prayer Flags, as the thin cotton material disintegrates over time, the individual threads, which are infused with the chants and prayer for good, those threads are borne away by the winds, scattering goodness everywhere the threads blow. The fiesta flags work almost as well, except, the last time I looked, they were made of plastic, so there wouldn’t be that gradual, entropic disintegration. Still, I like the idea, even if the plastic flags don’t fade as quickly. For Aries? This is about a simple symbol, like a flag, flying, saying you’ve looked the season in the face, and you’re willing to face what may come, which, as the week gets longer and we get started all over again with the new moon? Looks better and better.


“Nomenclature.” What it’s about? It’s the words we choose to describe what it is that is going on. “This is bad,” or “no good will come of this,” notice? The descriptive words put a highly negative spin on the situation. “Things could be getting better,” again, same issue, just different words. Not good, not bad, just how you decide to spin it. We pass a significant point this weekend, and looking back, it will be easy to see “that’s when it changed,” but in the moment? Sometimes it’s hard to see that. Which is why, easy enough to see, the words we pick are so important. Weekly word for Taurus? “Nomenclature.”


One book of mine, originally self-published? It had a red cover with an image of a coffee cup. Really, it was an espresso, a little, double-espresso. The way I laid out the cover, because I am occasionally a contrary person? I had the text for the book’s title backwards on the spine. It made sense at the time. What sense? I don’t know. I had a reason, but that reason is lost in the eons of memories that fade. There was rhyme and reason, perhaps I was trying to make a point. What it amounted to, though, is just an anomaly and somewhat reducing the resale value of the texts themselves. Seems like there’s typographical mistake right on the front cover, which, in this case was merely the spine. I did it, maybe upset the ordered procession of books on a shelf. I don’t know. I can’t recall. I’m not going to remember my logic at that time. Moving forward, it seemed like a good idea, and now? It’s forever a part of the permanent historical recored. Learn from my forgivable mistakes, Gemini, sometimes? Convention is convention, and we best hew to convention. Or shaded otherwise? Hue to convention.


astrofish.net/travel for appearances


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

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