Fishing Guide to the Stars 3.25.2010

“Shall quips and sentences and these paper bullets of the brain awe a man from the career of his humor?”
Shakespeare’s Much Ado About Nothing [II.iii.90]

Fishing Guide to the Stars
For the week starting: 3.25.2010

Aries: Happy Birthday! By the time this weekend arrives, we’re over the worst of it, and from that point, onwards, I mean, the rest of the week, weekend, on into the whole next month? All much better. Easier. Less worrisome details. I’d suggest, too, if you’re worried about some details? Put that out of your mind for the moment. Nothing good happens when you’re worried.

You don’t make room in your brain for positive thoughts with all those negative ideas running around.

I’m just suggesting that you make room for something good. Will it occur? Sure. That’s the short version, a little longer?

It’s the function of Jupiter, the lucky star in the sign that’s in front of you, that’s Pisces, and Jupiter, in the old astrology texts, Jupiter “rules” Pisces. This lends a little boost to your Aries self. Well, then, too, there’s that whole Mars thing, and for that matter, the Saturn thing, but still, I see this as good. Get rid of one item that’s a blockage, you can thank me later.

Taurus: One of my neighbors had an “altercation” with me. He was upset that I didn’t own a car, truck, any vehicle, and he was upset that I have no apparent “day job.” Bothered him to no end. He made snippy comments from time to time. He also would see my light late in the night when I was working on horoscopes.

Then, early mornings, he’d see me waiting by the curbside, fishing pole in hand, waiting on a guy towing a boat, headed towards the lake. Again, my hours are erratic, at best, and my attitude makes it all look very easy. Unlike my buddy who seems to work very hard for very low pay. I, too, work very hard for very low pay. I just do it with an apparent ease.

I’ve found that there’s no challenge greater than the blank word processor page. Nor, for that matter, is there a problem doing the readings after normal office hours. Gone weekends? That, too. Depends on how — and where — perceptions are based.

Judging me like a book by its cover? I could very well irritate my working neighbor. However, add up the hours that I do work? Evenings and weekends? I put in more hours — longer hours — only, it doesn’t look that way.

I doubt you’re the pissed off one in this equation. I tend to think you’re like me, working hard but making it look easy. Here’s an expression you can use to help ease the pain, “A lot of work goes into making this look effortless.”

Gemini: What I want is a room service button. I’d slept well, and it was an uncharacteristically cold morning, for Texas, anyway, and I didn’t want to get out of the warm bed. Cold air, cold floor, warm bed, no I really didn’t want to stir. But I did want to have, like, some coffee. In bed. Black coffee in bed.

Maybe you don’t know exactly what’s it was a like a couple of weeks ago, warm in bed, cold outside, but I’m sure you’re familiar with the feeling. Slide a leg out, feel a bare foot contact a cold floor, and then sudden recoil. Too cold. Don’t want to get up. I was awake that morning, and I was thinking, if I just had a laptop in bed, and if someone brought me some coffee, just a cup, a small thermos, not much, I could get much work done. All I needed was a room service button.

As a Gemini, this week? Like me, all you need is a room service button. Failing that? Get with the plan, you’ve got much to do and you’re wasting time, laying in bed, waiting on someone to bring you coffee on a cold morning. Unless, of course, you’ve installed a room service button.

Cancer: I was hopefully headed to the coast, this coming weekend. Didn’t work it out, couldn’t pull all the details together. I was hoping for a few nights by the bay, I’d like to think of it as an ocean, but really, it’s just slightly brackish bay water, and I was hoping for a few nights of idly setting myself on dock someplace, fishing.

Not a care in the world.

I do have cares, and my little leisure trip isn’t going to work out, not now. Pity, that. A few days, especially now, when the nights are still cool? The offshore breezes, damp and subtly warm against the evening’s chill, the whir of a fishing reeling. The ratchet-like cranking noise as gears engage and bobbers bob.

The coming full moon is full — of promise. There’s also some expectancy in the approaching full moon. Like my idea of a coastal fishing trip. You have idea, too. Dreams, plans. Can we make this happen? Doubt we can pull together, even at the last minute, even though I’m basically all packed and ready to go? Doubt we can pull off an escape trip like this. Doesn’t mean that there’s not something good for you, just up ahead, just means that it’s not happening, not now.

Leo: Comes as a surprise to some people, but when it comes to chicken? I prefer dark meat. I’m a leg man, too. I’ve found that the dark meat is more tender and possibly, more flavorful. The surprise part is that folks naturally assume that I’m breast, or, as a Sagittarius, a thigh person, and the most common assumption is that I prefer white meat.

As The Leo, you’re used to certain preconceived notions.

As The Leo, you’re used to people being a little hasty with judgement.

As The Leo, you understand what I feel like when I ask for a leg.

Raised eyebrow, a no, a mouthed “Oh really? Leg man?” That sort of nonsense. In the next couple of days, thank Mr. Mars for this, but in the next day or three, you’re going to encounter a misconception. About you. Like thinking that I like white meat, when, clearly, dark meat tastes better. This isn’t about fried chicken, or culinary events, nothing like that, this is about how yo handle that preconceived misconception. Getting irate with the poor miscreant? Avails you naught. Think Mars.

Virgo: Off-the-cuff, I was estimating that 90% or more of my horoscopes are written when I don’t have on any shoes. Barefoot astrology, really, that’s what this is. The more I put figurative pencil to metaphorical paper, the more I realized that the number is much greater than that. Close to 99%. Not quite a 100%, though. That much I’m sure of.

I recall writing notes and gathering facts, and at least a portion of one set of scopes was written while I was waiting to meet a client, and therefore, I was attired. Properly. With shoes. Or boots, or sandals, whatever I was wearing.

By mid-March, I’m in sandals and shorts full-time on the home turf. Comfort. Then, there’s still that persistent image, a “factoid” in a book, popular culture and sociologists suggest we all think better with our shoes off. Stop. Think about taking off your shoes.

I’m not sure your particular work environment will encourage this, or where you are, and if you’re still above the snow line? I’m unsure that this will work in real life. Not now. But if you’re in a place where you can this is an experiment in Virgo thinking. Try slipping out of your footwear. Real or imagined.

Libra: “Turn the Page,” it’s a song by (Bob Seger and the Silver Bullet Band), from — long time ago. Looks like a 1972 album was the original. load-out from a show. Maybe.

Jackson Brown: Libra. The two road songs were laments about the drudgery of the road. While I don’t travel near as much as I did, I was on the road — and gone — as much as every weekend. Almost every weekend for a long part of my career. The road songs, especially those two, adequately capture the feeling.

Granted, my tear down is a lot less hectic. I show up with a laptop and I’m good to go. Still, there’s a sadness, a feeling, although, I’m not usually “East of Omaha,” I’d write my own lyric about being just west of Abilene. I’ve cited two road songs, and there’s room for a sad, perhaps uplifting, lament here. What kind of road song are you going to write, Libra? Sad? Commemorative? Raucous? Are you going to go rocking down the highway?

Scorpio: Benedick and Beatrice, to me, even more so than Romeo and Juliet, are the best star crossed lovers. More — humorous — passion. Passion should be humorous.

In the grand scheme of life, assuming that there is benevolent and loving almighty? Guy’s got a good sense of humor. I was poking at the Scorpio charts and and I was thinking about Beatrice and Benedick, and their interactions, especially early on in the play. Especially Benedick. When he’s well-played, I just get an image of a strutting rooster. A little, strutting, boasting, braggart of a rooster.

While I’m not in accordance with some critics and scholars, I figure that Benedick and Beatrice wind up being the happiest of the Shakespeare’s couples. Starts with friction. There’s a similar happy coupling coming your way. Starts with friction, too. Talk about life imitating art.

Sagittarius: One of the huge — not very Sagittarius like — fears I’ve had to overcome is one about abundance. The example isn’t money, though, it’s another artistic pursuit: pictures. Digital images, media, it’s cheap. Now.

In five years, price for memory has plummeted. What I’ve had to learn, when taking pictures, now, what with cheap media for camera storage, is that it’s okay to take hundreds of pictures. Last time I took my camera out for a short walk, I wound up going close to eight miles, and when I got around to unloading the camera? Over a 100 images. Big, images, a bazillion megapixels by gajillion — height and width.

Sunny, colorful afternoon in South Texas. My backyard, so to speak. Take lots of digital images. If I found a subject I like, a single visual point? Instead of one picture, this is pure digital media, remember? Take three, five, ten. Doesn’t matter. Out of that last afternoon of well over a hundred images, two stops for ice tea, one conversation with a shopkeeper, and some pan dulce? I got a total of seven images that I’ll hold onto. Three might make it into the website for publication.

That’s three out of more than a hundred. Not good odds, not at first. Stop. Think about this. Looking at the tiny view screen on a cheap digital camera, who knows what’s going to turn out well, and what’s going to have all the wrong colors and composition? It’s a number game. The memory for that camera is cheap. I think of it like a shotgun approach. Are you being cheap, stingy and only taking one picture? Take three. Five. You can throw them all away, if you need to. I tossed more than 90% the other day.

Capricorn: I tried to look at this polite-like. I tried to make this simple and easy. I made an effort to phrase this in a delicate manner. Nothing’s working. Light a fire under your butt. Figuratively, I hope. Need to get moving. Motivated, motion, action. Do. Quite thinking about it, and start doing something about it.

Chances are, three out of four of your starts will fail this week.
Chances are, three out of four attempts fall before they get launched.
Chances are, chances are, you don’t like the math on this one, three-quarters of the efforts — this week — are doomed.

However, one? One of those? It goes off like a skyrocket, like Saturn V booster, all lit up like a Roman Candle, shooting into the heavens. That good. Way good. Better than “way good.”

Dude. That single success makes a whole week’s worth of failures worth it. More than worth it. Eclipses the problems, it’s such a shining success. But you have to light fire under your own ass to make this happen.

Aquarius: I had a really rough day at the lake. The fish were biting, that’s the good news, but the fish were tentative about the biting. Nibbling, might be a better term. Teasing, that comes to mind, as well. At one point, downright cruel fish. I’d feel something tickle the bait, end of the line, there would be something interested. I was using a plastic worm, at first. Works well. Usually. Tickle, taste, but no takers. I switched colors, then, eventually, I walked over to the bait house and bought a dozen night crawlers. Big, old fatties.

I proceeded to feed those to the fish, as well. Whatever was nibbling, it wasn’t very hungry, as the fish, if that’s, indeed, what it was, would eat one side of the worm and then leave the rest. Halfway through my dozen live worms, I got smarter. I didn’t just thread the worm on the hook, I looped him back and forth, several times. More like skewered. Reminded me an Indian Kabob. No curry on the worm, though.

There is a point where my frustration pays off for your Aquarius self — perseverance. I persevered. To no avail. I was tired, hot, sunburnt, dusty, and a little cranky when I got in from the lake. No fish, either. Not happy. Everybody I know was at work. I spent an afternoon fishing. Not catching but certainly fishing. Cost a trip to the lake and box of worms. Less than five bucks, total. Hours of entertainment. Maybe frustrating, but entertainment, nonetheless.

In perspective, looking back, maybe it wasn’t such a bad time. Stop, before you start complaining about how bad it is, gain a little perspective.

Pisces: Shakespeare, allegedly, wrote MacBeth to demonstrate gratitude for royal patronage. King James I, like Shakespeare’s (historical) character Malcolm, both were believed to been appointed by God. Yeah, and a bloody play it is. To some, it’s the source of the first laundry detergent commercial, as well.

While it’s one of the shortest plays, it’s also one of the violent. Then, too, there’s the persistent image the three witches, adding a spooky layer, and possibly the source for much witch-hate over the years. And superstitious, it’s a very superstitious play. At its heart, though, there’s the homage to the King of England, and a reference to his ancestor.

Part myth, or, mostly myth, the play still stands strong these days. Still, to have a play, a hugely successful play, written in your honor? Cool for that king. There is a point, too, where your Pisces self should be immortalized. Are you going to be memorialized like Malcolm? Or his rival, MacBeth? End of the play, Malcolm and his heirs inherit the throne of Scotland down through the years, &c.