“This dream is all amiss interpreted.”
- Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar (2.2.8)
Horoscopes for 1-2-2024
- Mercury direct 1/1/24 22° Sag.
- Sun enters Aquarius 1/21
Capricorn
The term, cooking phrase, French? “Mise en place,” means — everything in place. Or “Got everything ready,” or “the kitchen is in order,” or any number of similar definitions. As we move forward in this New Year’s Capricorn, that operative phrase? Mise en place. Lately, I’ve just grabbed at a few things, and used that to make food. There was a leftover yam, and part of some venison sausage, all I needed to add? Chopped parts, and it was all fried up as a meal. To prepare, I just pulled everything together, and started chopping, then simmering. High heat then lowered the flame, and added my similar, if not entirely quotidian spice pallet. But to start? Got to get all the tools, and ingredients, all lined up and see what’s there in order to understand how to proceed. That’s the Capricorn goal, get it all out and lined up, so you know what comes next.
Aquarius
“Hobson’s Choice,” look it up. As I understand it, the choice is wherein is there isn’t much of a selection of options. I’ve been known to intone, “but we always have options,” yet with this kind of Aquarius energy?
The way it shakes out? Sure, there are a multitude of options, but of those options? Not too many look good. Few are viable. Only one seems to be the correct route, and while, as I’ve observed, “There are always choices,” only one seems to be the correct way. Muttering, sotto voce, an Aquarius notes, “Yeah, not really too many choices, now are there?” We’re back to Hobson’s Choice, and it’s either ride or walk. Your choice, though, Aquarius, your choice.
Pisces
One of the great loves in my life has become Shakespeare scholarship. I am, though, towards this book-learning, at best, a most fickle lover. I’ll dive into a topic, a particular play, listen to it read aloud, maybe watch a movie version, look at online clips from stage and screen, dig through scholarly podcasts, and even invest in some textbooks. Over the years, though, I’ve learned to be judicious and cautious with actual purchases, as there will be a critically-acclaimed new book, only to discover, it’s not that new, nor does it cover anything that interests me. I tend to jettison such works. I have handful of plays on DVD, but that’s an almost dead media. Still, I like being able to reference a particular piece, as need be. I was thinking through my own Shakespeare Scholarship, as it falls someplace between hobby and work, my ability to pick up and then drop, then start over, then back up, and reread, then look at a particular piece with a renewed interest? Or, even better the ability to completely drop my obsession for days, weeks, or even months at a time? Then, just as fast as I dropped it, pick it back up like nothing was missed in the interim? It’s that skill that allows Pisces to assimilate, ascertain, and shift directions, quickly, and with no wasted motion. “Okay, so we’re doing this how? Sure.” Like my Shakespeare Scholarship, no?
Aries
The ad read, “You can’t fix your mental health with duck tape.” More than one irascible Aries will disagree. Duck tape has many uses. It makes an effective temporary binding of the hands, and feet, at least from what I’ve seen on TV, and just a single strip? You can cover someone’s mouth. Not the perfect cure, but as a temporary fix? Which would suggest that the working ad, the phrase itself, “You can’t fix mental health with duck tape” is incorrect. The challenge, and what this week’s Aries is all about? Remember that the duck tape is a temporary fix. It is a stopgap measure. It is good for a few minutes, or hours, maybe a day or two. It will not last forever. But temporary fixes, if they are handy in the moment? It’s all in that moment. What good Aries must remember? This — like duck tape — is a temporary solution. Temporary, not permanent, and be willing to rethink, renegotiate, and redo the answer when that sticky stuff wears off.
Taurus
Smart quotes. Better yet, “Smart Quotes.” I’ve worked with computers and digital data sets long enough to know the keyboard commands, and the various word processing, page processing, web typography apps that can, and can’t, properly insert smart quotes. Then, too, there’s the question of my typing, and that’s different from the application’s handling of the smart quotes. “Smart Quotes” look better, and more closely resemble a proper typesetting, printed word, e.g., book format, and to the trained eye, “smart quotes” are easy to read. There was a passage in last week’s horoscopes, in quotes, and the automated “Smart Quotes” were reversed. Out of order, and it was missed by all the (Mercury was retrograde) proof-reading, copy-editing. Wasn’t noticed, by me, until a few days after it was live. I had to grab a keyboard and put the corrected marks in place. Some days we just have to do it ourself, no matter what the computer should — or shouldn’t — do.
Gemini
The expression, rendered into a dead language? “Nullum cacas sherlock.” I got a slightly different version from a lawyer, and since I like to play with this, and a good Gemini needs some amusement? I switched it up. Still, it’s about the most obvious being the most obvious. Instead of letting the recent mercurial miscues mistakenly misdirect? Look for what’s abundantly obvious.
“Nullum cacas sherlockus.”
Cancer
“Introverts, unite! I’m mad, and now I’m going home alone!” While I clearly pilfered the line from an unknown source, and doing a quick reverse search will turn up multiple sources? I’d like to stick to the feeling inherent in the comment, and I’d suggest we all go home — alone. I’m not sure how that works out, not individually, but as a Moon Child, Cancer-compliant, crab-like person myself? I’d use the convenient excuse of getting tax documents together and sorting through accounting spreadsheets as a way to avoid people. Just need to stay away from the post-mercurial mayhem. “Introverts, unite! I’m mad, and now I’m going home alone!” Had a nice ring to it.
The Leo
The nightmare that Mrs. Julius Caesar had? Night before the big day? Yeah, turns out that the prediction was quite right. That’s a kind of verbal and dramatic irony. Or foreshadowing, but in this particular play, we all know what’s going to happen. After some years of casual study, I had to agree that the real title should be the Tragedy of BFF Brutus. There’s always a side of political commentary, but like almost all of Shakespeare’s works, there is a wide area subject to interpretation. As the mighty and majestic Leo? There’s a wide swath of The Leo’s realm that’s subject to more than one interpretation. There are those, too, who will try to interpret this as their only way to see circumstances. Be willing to consider outside opinions.
Virgo
One my buddies, he had a quick, how-to video short. Started with the disclaimer, “I know it sounds like I don’t know what I’m talking about, but I’ve done this a hundred times, so watch, follow me, I’ll show you.” Walked through a simple process for making a (thing), and what I liked, was my buddy, of course, so I watched it, but what I liked? That apparent calm, sort of distracted with a single lock of hair falling in the face, yet, pointed, each step clearly enunciated, parsed with a degree of patience, and looked easy. Simple, even, and the pacing, the casual, “I just sort of threw this all together” imagery worked well as it took the process and simplified it, demystified it, and clarified the correct steps — in order. I’d guess he’s done that more than a hundred times. Looks easy, and I will not attempt it myself, but I like his teaching techniques. Studiously casual, a conversational tone, not a preachy tone, which, as we all know? A good Virgo can start preaching how to do something quicker than anyone else. But that casual, flip his hair out of his eyes, and look, see, this goes here, and that goes there, and we sprinkle some extra grease here, and trust me, that will help. See how easy this can be? It’s one how-to set of instructions. Studied, yet casual works best, next few days.
Libra
There will always be events that define us. Many years distant, merely a barely acceptable photograph left over? It’s a three or four-pound bass, on the gravel at the shoreline of the old trailer park. But as far as a defining moment? I’d been fishing with a buddy that day, and I got skunked. No fish for me. However, after I got home, I was just looking out the trailer’s back door, the lake, Austin’s Town Lake, the burgeoning downtown still in a nascent phase, and me, cold December afternoon, using what became a decade’s-long go-to bait, I landed that fish. It was the moment that everything changed. With the recent Mercury Retrograde? I have to dredge the memories for that moment, but I can recall it. The instance, the instant, the time when everything changed. That’s coming up, in Libra, soon enough. The moment, the instance, the defining action, the single occurrence that changes everything. For me, this predates the current technologies, so I’m not sure I can build in a link. But the singular event is still etched in my memory.
Scorpio
Embrace that which you are unsure of, simplest Scorpio explanation. One example, and I’ve even this repeated before, in fact, I’ve done this — more than once — when I’m faced with a question that I have no clue as to the correct answer? I’ll make stuff up. What I’ve learned? That’s not always the best recourse. As an exercise in fiction, sure, it works well, think of the question as a writing prompt, and we get to fill in the blanks with what we don’t know. One buddy, not a good Scorpio, is an expert at extemporizing on the unknown, but that’s part of who he is. Me? I’ve learned, oftentimes the most arduous route, that making stuff up when I don’t know an answer? That results in the wrong answer. Simplest answer to the question begging us a slide on Occam’s Razor, yet again? “I don’t know, let’s see what I can find out.”
Sagittarius
When I lived in downtown San Antonio, Baja King William, at the time? I was a few doors away from what was then Rico World Headquarters. Offhand, I can’t recall the corporate name, but the individual cans were gallon-sized cans of cheese-like substance. Heat it up, pour over a handful of tortilla-style chips, maybe garnish with spoonful or two of pickled jalapeño pepper slices? Perfect county fair, ballpark, convenience store nachos. I never sampled them, or I haven’t yet. Not in my immediate plans, either. However, as a good Sagittarius, it is a culinary delight, and I feel a certain fondness having once lived in the shadow of greatness. This week, this year ahead? When have we been in the presence of greatness, but maybe not sampled it ourselves?
