| Sun
in Pisces 3/19 A little peace, a little quiet. Too much to hope for. I got the nicest thank you note from Sister's troop of puppet people — I had "donated" one of my frequent flyer tickets so they could get to New York last January. [More like a guilt trip, if recall the series of events.] The luggage is ready: two more weekends on the road, coming up. Left Coast then West Texas. Going to be a weird one. I'm thinking I need to get a set of handcuffs, as a prop, and handcuff my briefcase to my wrist. Get the allusion? Food for thought [especially if you own a URL, even one with an offbeat name like "astrofish.net".] 3/18 Yes, it is rocket science. I think this computer upgrade is the fastest, easiest, most painless time I've ever swapped out a machine. Took a little while to sort out some of the details, and get the latest version of some software and its associated drivers all hooked up. It was the close of the sxsw series, too. The crowds of music people: bands, fans, media, and assorted accompanying persons, it was about a day too long, by my call. Having to wait for dinner, just one last time, was a bit too much for me. Some of the local businesses, though, were reporting as a much as a three fold increase in business. For others, just another day in Austin Town. Then there's the problem with what to do with two girls who are 16 and one guy who's 17. Man, is that ever SO the wrong age. Clubs are 18 and up. And forget about hanging around the parental figures, we are such losers. For the first time, in a long time, I've been addressed as an authority figure. I was just glad I wasn't called "Sir," or those kids would've been walking. And what guys come to my rescue? None. "Dude, I can't help unless she's, like, old enough to drink." Thanks, guys. 3/17 I opened the trailer's door, shortly after updating the journal yesterday, and there was the package delivery guy, smiling. I must've been a sorry sight: silk boxers, ratty old T-shirt, hair all one one side, bleary eyes, and the faint howling of a hungry cat in the background. The new toy arrived, and that pretty much shoots the rest of the weekend. This thing has a wide screen. It's this wide, see? So that was a cute joke that really didn't work this morning. I was out with the Virgo last night, corralling some visitors around 6th Street, and I caught this one snippet of a conversation, a drunken woman, grabbing her significant other guy by the back of his pants, right before he drunkenly stepped into oncoming traffic, "Hey, I've invested too much time in you to loose you now. Come back here." 3/16 This isn't the first time I've read this rumor online, and the source — as of yet — is undocumented. But now that I've got a [backordered] Titanium Power Book, does this indicate my yet-undelivered toy is already obsolete? I think that's a new high in the rapid decline of value — electronic devices that are depreciating before they ever arrive. Where will the madness end? And then, last night, I finally got around to reading the weekly installment from one of my heroes, Hunter S. Thompson, and yea, verily, my art is mentioned in his column. Not me, but he does have tasty [or testy, depending on your sign] astrology plug — echoes some recent sentiments around here. I had a late dinner with a friend and confidante at Curra's. Now, that's about the third time in as many days that I've been there. I mean, sure the food's good, but there's also the service, or, the best thing, that extra cup of coffee afterwards. [Texas Coffee Roasters special blend] I fetched an interesting piece of mail out of the office mail box, a subscription renewal form for a computer magazine I subscribe to. Comes with a CD chock full of useful and useless software each month. I just found out the "newsstand" price of that magazine is $7.99. Pretty steep. But in the course of year, that's 12 CDs, I get enough value from the free software, news and tidbits, to make it worth my while. Subscription to the Fishing Guide to the Stars? It's a thought. I've got to pay for this brand new, out dated computer some how. 3/15 The outlook. What was it I heard in one of the sxsw workshops? "People don't want to read on their TV, and they don't want to watch TV on their computer." And I couldn't take the white background, but it took a while to figure out what I was looking for. I think I got it on the front page now. And the new design fits both necessary characteristics: it's easy to see — and it's easy for me to update. Only problem I've got now, is the floating navigation bar at the bottom, but that'll sort itself out over time. Which means, I'll figure it out yet. This redesign idea has been a bloody mess from the first attempt, right on through this fairly safe/stable iteration. The nice thing about being a "computer person" [read: geek] means little things, which make my life easier to manage, are considered progress. Like Pocket Quicken for the Palm OS. No more running home to enter the invoice or credit card charge for Chicken Fried lunch. I always like being the astrologer who the psychics come to for astrological advice. And, upon doing so, one of the Neighbor's friends overhead some of my sage advice, "Yep, that's Kramer, sinking to new levels of depravity every day." I would point out, he was looking at the swimsuit issue of certain magazine when he was commenting on my comments. And, late yesterday afternoon, I did a little checking up: DSL, any day now. I even read the instructions, now this should be easy, just plug it in and we're all good to go. Somehow, I fear, it can't be that easy. Just like my "plug and play" shopping cart. 3/14 Feast Day of St. Colomba — Patron Saint of Poets. Redesign time. I mean, time for a big one. I still can't work out the details of how to update the site daily and weekly while having those really cool looking single columns for each day — too much work. Or breaking the individual signs out into separate files. Great idea, administrative nightmare. Oh no, it doesn't bother everyone, but there's always one sign who doesn't get updated, and I get a huge volume of mail wondering why I hate that one sign. "The computer broke it. No, really." It's bad enough when folks can't figure out how to empty their browser's cache to catch the updates. Nope, sign by sign is out. But it is time for a new look in the text department. Apparently, many web based businesses depend on advertising for their revenue. Buzz words for yesterday, "Broadband" and "business model." This is getting old. But there was one interesting train of thought, creative directors and media buyers have a lot of real estate to work with, look at a full page ad in magazine. Now, the circulation department will claim you're getting so many "hits" off that ad, but there's no way to verify that. In net advertising, the numbers can be quantified, the actual number of times the ad is displayed (doesn't guarantee folks see it), and then, the number of times that ad gets clicked on, again, a number that can be tracked. If I recall correctly, the terms bantered about is something like 7 out of every 1,000 impressions gets a sale. Not good numbers, but then, there's the computer's accuracy at counting stuff. The problem is the way the web advertising can micro–managed. After Hank and El Paso punk, I'm going back to opera. Same feeling, just longer songs. I love it when this happens — the only thing that's better is spewing coffee on the computer's screen: >sign: Scorpio >TalkToKramer: hee!hee!hee!...Oops! I just made my diet coke come out of my >nose!!!! Yuck! hee! hee! hee! 3/13 SXSW. Unrelated literature link. Funny snippet: girl from LA, "We've got to hurry up and get to the hotel so we can get changed and get to the party." "But what you're wearing is considered formal wear in Austin." "Why isn't anyone hurrying?" "There's a lot of lithium in our local water." "But I haven't been drinking any local water yet." "No, but we have — we live here." I smiled out of the side of my mouth. Useful workshop note, "Credit card transaction, they just aren't suited for the web. They are designed to be a face to face transaction, so you can swipe the card and check the signature." Another note, "You know, if Victoria's Secrets launched now, everyone would want to know who Victoria was." "Community" was a big buzz word. The interactive sessions seemed more subdued, but much better attended. Then, last night, I got around to an amazing event. Better than anything I picked up at the workshops. Now check the list, there's a link to a recording by Hank Williams, III. It's not much of guess that I really enjoy the CD. It's country music with a little sense of reality thrown in, like the songs were written by someone who has actually felt the woe. [Punk Rockabilly. Honky Punk.] I saw Hank III last night. Amazing show. High energy. First off, it was in the legendary Continental Club, and more important, Hank III did two sets. I was enjoying the first set, which was primarily just country music, but there was a sense of urgency thrown in. And while I didn't catch the names of the band members, they all deserve accolades. This is an incredibly versatile band. Stand up bass, pedal steel guitar, Hank III strumming a beat up acoustic (while wearing a sorry old straw cowboy hat), drums and a fiddle player with an unusual hair style (reminiscent of a Hare Krishna style — don't ask, I don't know). That fiddle guy did a particularly sonorous turn with the old classic, "Orange Blossom Special." The way I liked to put it, the country music had the ferocity of punk rock. And the first set was straight ahead country music. "I like to play one from my granddaddy, then one from my daddy," Hank III introduced two tunes, Unlike manufactured music, though, there was some real pain in the music. Like his namesake. Genetics. After an hour of this, including a country–punk–speed–acoustic version of a Johnny Cash's Cocaine Blues song, Hank III suggested he was going to take a five minute break, and come back and play some of his own stuff, "Our other side. If you don't like devil music, go ahead and leave now, I'm only going to warn you once." Off came the western yoke dress shirt, out came the tattoos, and the acoustic was exchanged for an electric guitar. But the fiddle, stand up bass, pedal steel, drums, all remained unchanged. It was hard, fast, driven, screaming, vulgar, angry, and yet, there was something different about this "punk rock." It was really music. Too be sure, most of the lyrics included certain forceful expletives. But still, with more than one tune, there was that lonesome country whine, lyrics that might belong in a country song, laced into the music. Singularly, and especially as a band, the group is very good. I can't wait until the B–side, the Southern punk stuff makes it onto a CD. I am so there. In the meantime, buy that first CD. You can hear a rising outlaw. 3/12 I feel like there's a camaraderie developed amongst the loose cadre of readers and psychics I travel with. The actual numbers vary from a handful to dozens, and the colorful life behind the scenes, who has a new boyfriend, who is doing what these days, who is not on the circuit anymore, how was the show in Colorado [Arizona, California, Minnesota] and so forth. In my case, I rarely venture outside of Texas. Why? No one seems to get it — at the least the folks in Texas, we laugh at our idiosyncrasies. Instead of big, fancy meal last night, a handful of my working acquaintances and I snuck off to the Cherry Creek Catfish Parlor. Someone ordered up some of the very best fried green tomatoes for an appetizer, then I had me a plateful of fried okra, hush puppies, and some nice catfish. Our other token male was along, and it's his wife who's the reader. One of the topics of discussion that came around, amidst the complaints of working all day, one of her little new steps forward is the fact that she's starting to channel a 14 year old girl (400 years old). My buddy, looks at his wife, rolls his eyes (I wouldn't suggest he's a skeptic, but he is a Virgo), "So how many women am I sleeping with now?" "South By So What" [local variation as we are not pleased with the traffic, delays, and crowds, but we like the money] begins afresh for me. I'm off to workshops about buzz words, and before long, I'll be bantering about terms with the letter "e" in front of them. I know why I keep a journal, it's for me, as much as anything. For some reason, over the last year, whatever it was I saw at SXSW last year clicked as a turning point. I looked up my journal from last year, and I couldn't see it as a change. On the legal front, I've been considering a site license like this one. 3/11 Moon's in Libra, and that means the big questions are relationships. At the events I work at, I usually do a lecture of some kind, and yesterday was no different. What was challenging (as in fun challenging) was getting to work, setting up, and then finding out what the title of the lecture was going to be. Nothing like making this stuff up as I go along. Come on, I can lecture about astrology for hours and hours, given half a chance. Just give me a topic, wind me up, and let me go. Then, after a strange day, which started out as a Pisces day, but turned into a Sagittarius afternoon, I left the show just a little early with one of my Sagittarius friends. A little food at Curra's — a little conversation [Cancer waiter]. Pulling out her chart, we started talking about relationships, business, more about business, then romance and stuff again. I groaned. Earlier in the day, I had been proof reading the upcoming scopes. And here's the scary part: Sagittarius for the week starting 3/12/2001. Now, bear in mind, I knocked out these scopes over a year ago. Means I hammered out the bare bones of the scope that appears on Monday, last year. The spooky part, my friend shares the same birthday — not the same year — but the same day — and the scopes have an eerie cast to them, as it applies to our lives. I scare myself. 3/10 Yesterday was good, then bad, then good, and finally, just plain weird. I was rather thrilled to discover that the Hank III CD is available online and at less than retail. According to what the link suggests, it ships within 24 hours. To think, I spent weeks pouring through various stores to find this same CD — and I paid full retail. Same for Robert Earl Keen's Live #2, perhaps one of his best albums — his live stuff always sounds better than slick, studio productions. You know what I liked hearing yesterday? "Sure, no problem, we can process credit cards for you, and it will be a lot cheaper than your current company." That, "Sure, no problem," comment was good news indeed. Then, McLeod Communications, the people who bought Caprock Communications, who were my phone company — and saved me $400 in one year — called. I tried to get DSL through them last November [& Dec. & Jan. & Feb.] That's more than 90 days. So, I switched back to the Mother Ship, SW Bell. Hook up is due in 10 days. But calls requesting information were never returned from Caprock (now McLeod), and I got an extra [erroneous] bill for my Nov. & Dec. phone bill in February — again — along with a service disconnect notice. It was paid on time. And 40 minutes on hold while waiting to find out it was their mistake. A little problem or two is understandable. A long string of problems means me and my business go elsewhere. And was I fair? More than fair. I'd like to think I don't pick on anyone, except certain signs, but even that varies by the planets' positions. I did go by the Convention Center and fetch my pass for the week's festivities, but I'm afraid I'll be missing all the alcohol abuse. Had a brush with fame, but even that was momentary, and I won't bother with the details, but it was another one of those fabulous Sag women. I do know it's going to be a strange few weeks. Overheard in line to get my badge, "Hey, send me an e–mail to confirm that the e–mail didn't go through." Yes indeed, strange times — I was wearing, more as a joke, a KISS T-shirt. Off to work this morning. 3/9 More business stuff. I'm getting really tired of business arrangements. I had to train one of the places I sell scopes to, I had to get them up to speed on the idea that, for what they pay me, I don't have to generate an invoice. I send scopes, they send money. If I have to invoice and do all that other paperwork, then the price goes way up. "Current hold time is [pause] 5 minutes." I had to activate two credit cards yesterday. And, as official as possible, South By South West has just about started. The black clad, alternative set is in town, clutching phones to their ears, and crowding our normally uncongested sidewalks. "Ranch (dressing) is the unifying factor of humankind." — Steph (Gemini waitress at Mag.) SXSW (local non-alternative code name: South By So What) guarantees long lines everywhere, and rain — lots of gray, leaden skies. Come home to Frank Zappa singing about Catholic Girls. The current buzz I heard is all the hot acts are alt.County. I knew I should've gone down to listen to my favorite cowboy yodeler last night — Don Walser (Virgo). But in keeping with my own advice, I did wear a black turtleneck, when I finally got changed into street clothes — around three yesterday afternoon. 3/8 Weird weather means my attitude is weird, too. Laertes suggested "The appearal oft proclaims the man." [Hamlet, I.iii.72] Buy the t-shirt here.... >sign: Capricorn >TalkToKramer: Last week it was psyco Pisces... this week cranky goats?. >Don't take it personal. Some people think that scopes should be filled >only with happy horse stuff to make them feel better about >themselves. I, for one take the forcast as it is... a forcast. I heed the >warnings and conduct myself accordingly for the most positive outcome in >what can be an adverse situation. Like I said before, your scopes are >REAL. If I'm going to have a gloom and doom week, I want to know about > it. Forwarned is forarmed and I blow raspberries at your critics for >being so self centered and taking everything as a personal insult or >attack. There... that is my daily rant. >Scopes like yours have kept me out of allot of trouble and for that I am grateful. I always figure my scopes are like weather forecasting— and if I see rain coming this way, I take an umbrella, boots, duster, hat, and so forth. Often as not all that preparation is for nothing; however, if I don't take any protection, it'll come a flood, sure as can be. I've got another couple of e-mails I've been sitting on, trying to figure out how to answer. The question of whether it's the planet's fault, or if it's just the planets' timing? And as such, it's been one heck of a Leo Moon this week. I'm doing my best to live out the horoscope I wrote for myself. Check that Sagittarius. 3/7 I wish writing, as a profession was more about actually writing and less about the day to day business problems. To be quite honest, I make more money off telling fortunes, to use the bank's expression, than I do off of writing, but it's a close call — the two are almost even from an accounting point of view. It's just that the business stuff is really getting in the way of me being productive at the word processor these days. Either it's the bank, or the phone company, or, like right now, it's both. I waited on hold for 40 minutes with one phone company, only to be assured that the service disconnect notice was an error — no wonder I want out. But Bell didn't seem to interested in picking me back up, either. I've requested service three times now. I was at the Travis County Court House, too, and the guard at the entrance insisted on holding onto my pocket knife because it was — come to think of it, I don't figure me or that knife is very dangerous. But I don't argue with uniformed officials. And for what it was worth, the County Records people were much nicer, and more efficient, than either phone company. On a much more positive note, I've got another book offer working, not the first time, but this one seems more reliable than the last few. "Dude, you ought to write a book!" My answer is generally the same, "Pony up some cash, dude." No, I didn't get any money, but I got a solid outline, with what looks like the right stuff in the right places. Now all I have to do is write the book. But before I can write the book, I've got to get the phone lines sorted out, then the bank thing, then the Travis County thing, then the March column deadlines, and the taxes thing. Don't want to forget the State of Texas comptroller. When I was coming back from the County Court House, I noticed that the Texas Bankers [association?] had an office right across the street from the Governor's Mansion. I wonder who's really in whose pocket here. 3/6 A person wrote to me yesterday morning, to complain about the Capricorn horoscope. >Louise (olly@hello.com) on Monday, March 5, 2001 at 11:32:59 >sign: Capricorn >TalkToKramer: It seems to me that a capricorn in your life has been >pushing a few of your buttons - no reason why you should take it out on >the rest of us. I suggest you keep your judgements to yourself and just >interpret the astrology. The funny thing, after I wrote a nice repsonse? My answer bounced. So even though I did listen, and even though I did respond, the original author of the note wasn't listening. And it's like I suggested to begin with.... Besides, I'm up to my ears in lovely, darling, beautiful Capricorn's right now. This is where it gets good: I bought a hefty lunch, after a long hike, for a red headed Capricorn. Do I have thing against Caps? My accomplice for the afternoon just looked at me like I was crazy. She was tempted on at least two occasions, to push me into the lake, but that was for poor jokes. And my constant nagging about me and my appearance. "Look, black sandals, black t-shirt, black shorts, right idea?" She glanced at me, "Yeah, right. You look more like Bubba than anything else, goth-boy." Might have been the purple stripes in the flannel shirt I wound up carrying. By the end of the afernoons hike, I was down to just wearing shorts. Might have to rethink my ideas about myself. I wonder if there's any Cure. And all my time and trouble spent hacking away on the various scripts I've got running, my attempts at programming? I finally gave up, and contacted a guy about getting a shopping cart to work on the order form. There was one other thing, a note I aimed to send to the bank's customer care person, and I let the Cap proofread it. "It never ceases to amaze me how you can say those things without cussing." 3/5 There was one album that made it onto the CD changer that I didn't bother to list. Some folks get upset at the band's name. But it's fun music — just don't take the lyrics too seriously. Punk balances classical balances various ethnic tunes. From what I've been told, and from first hand observations, I'm pretty sure that hair characteristics are determined by the mother's father. I don't have much concern because my grandfather had the exact same type of hair as I do, but from what I've been lead to believe, I should be all gray by now. I got to thinking of this as I glanced at myself in the mirror this morning and found a single, long gray curl mixed in with my others. Bud Kennedy had the funniest column in the Sunday Ft. Worth Star Telegram. [I'm sure some Right Wing, fiscal conservative types won't be nearly as amused.] The Neighbor was watching some stock car racing when I stopped by last night, one car stalled in the pit stop: "The car that stalled? It was the one with 'Viagra' on it." Even that symbolism wasn't lost on as we all hooted. Really late last night, while sipping herb tea, which brought up another question, I was killing a few minutes, waiting on the server to run out the new scopes so I could check them for veracity [good copy editors are so hard to find these days], and I was happily surfing along, checking on some web rings. I found one that suggested no derogatory terms should be used. Then I got to thinking about my phrase, "ethnic music" and could that racist in any way? Then, to make matters worse, I started thinking about some of the music I listen to, and surely some local singers and songwriters should be considered ethnic because they don't really fit any of the usual forms of taxonomy for any particular genre. I didn't consider Marriachi as "ethnic," as I've been exposed to it all my life. But I did count Joe King as ethnic because of it's weird combination of Spanish rhythms and its Tex-Mex blend. As a native Texan, does that make me a minority? And does herb tea prepared in a microwave count as good or bad? 3/4 "40 days and 40 nights now...." What I feel like going to the bank officers. I remember Pa Wetzel, looking over his glasses, and calmly suggesting that the net boom (and subsequent bust) cycle was just like "energy" companies in the 70's. Since I don't recall a lot about the oil business back then, not that I know a lot about it now, but I was wondering where the cycle will take us? Instead of writing a horoscope, or rather, instead of real work, I knocked out a quick Visor Phone review for fredlet. She said she was going to point to it. Techno envy on her part? I don't know, it's about even as she has one of the super cool fold up Visor keyboards. 3/3 Dangerous times. After running so long and so hard for an extended period of time, all I really want is to lay myself down and sleep. Just a few hours straight through. I'm trying a trick, giving the cat her food before bedtime to see if I can coax her into not waking me up with the first light of day. Yesterday afternoon, I was busy attending to the details of running a business. I've been dissatisfied with my current credit card processing company, and along with switching banks, I was going to get another processing set up. I got home last night from dinner at Curra's, and the news on the fax was, "Just talked to my manager & he says we cannot process your business as it will be considered as a fortune teller." I really don't mind the label, but the fact that they won't consider me as a merchant really causes great frustration. There's nothing better than a little retail therapy to help assuage a shattered ego. I guess if the bank doesn't want my business, then I'd better go shopping. More banking business: sometime in 1999, I got a free update from Quicken because there was a Y2K bug in Quicken 98 for the Mac, if I recall right. I happened across the upgrade CD while digging around in my desk, and I finally got around to installing the new software. Not much difference, but if my memory serves correctly, my heirs won't have any problems with my accounting in 2031. It's that pesky Y2K bug, the one I was so sure I was immune to. 3/2 I was a little worried about my father's speech on Thursday, at noon, at his award thing [the real purpose for my trip]. He had gone over the speech the night before, rehearsing certain points, and finding out what needed to be trimmed. He originally mentioned me as his son, and a writer and astrologer. Given the ceremony and all, I suggested that "astrologer" was a little too fringe oriented, and Pa Wetzel looked at me with that merry twinkle in his eye, "You're not a little on the edge?" So at the luncheon, the biggest question was whether or not it was pork or chicken (or turkey, for that matter) as the main course. I'm still not sure. Then the award, the little speech, and so on. Then, after the speeches and the plaques and the big silver chalices had all been handed out, I was wound up being delegated to carry the ceremonial gift — the award itself — for my parents. I walked out of the banquet hall with the big silver chalice (cup, vase, memorial thing) tucked under one arm, and I caught a ride with the Virgo back to the office to fetch up Pa Wetzel's truck as he was still basking in the [much deserved] limelight. Now, on the way out the door of the hotel, I paused, set the big award cup down, reached into my pocket and thumbed on my Visor Phone, slipped it back into my pocket, and hopped in the Virgo's truck. Notice something missing? I didn't, not until we got to the office, and I opened up the back of the truck to get the chalice and carry it in. In a situations like this, the rule of thumb is not to panic. I didn't. I just got back in the truck and didn't worry. Okay, so I worried a lot, but I didn't let it show too much. I was was told my eyes got real big when I realized the error of my ways. Swept up in the moment. But back at the banquet hall, sitting right where I'd set it down, there was the award. I grabbed it, walked nonchalant like out the door, and got on with the rest of the day, you know, parties, airports, planes and taxis — and so forth. 3/1 When the weather in Texas is unsettled, I've long since learned to anticipate delays at the airport. Imagine my surprise when SouthWest Airlines was running on time, at least as far as Big D. What a great town to visit. There was a round of surprises for Pa Wetzel, one right after another. One the reasons I was invited up, of course, had to do with sorting out technical problems. When I got my Visor Phone, it was the quickest, easiest 'cell' phone activation I've ever walked through, and I've been through at least a half dozen cell phones in the last few years. But for Pa Wetzel, it was a long and arduous process, and I finally had to step in to help. "Please push 1, now." You know the process. Ma Wetzel had arranged for some chocolate dipped strawberries with little bow ties on them, as a special treat for him — now this one I don;'t get, it was Ash Wednesday, but somehow, Ma Wetzel's Lenten didn't start until today, or maybe tomorrow. And she always claims I get my ability to stretch reality from my patriarchal line. I think it's pretty much on both sides. 2/28 Some Scorpio bankers apparently have no sense of humor. Of course, I have no sense of humor about a misplaced deposit. Been almost 60 days now. And life rolls forward — new bank, I hope. I heard something truly amusing during a reading yesterday afternoon, another local psychic had suggested that I try to sleep with all my clients. If I had been offended, or worried, it would indicate there was some truth in the statement — or I wouldn't have even made note of it here. Seems a little unethical to me. Worried? Upset? That's like one psychic who kept "seeing" me moving to another town. Yeah, right. Internecine back biting doesn't give a nice picture of the "love and light" community, that's for sure. So I giggled about it all. That's right up there with the taking one's self too seriously. I started writing horoscopes because the ones I read weren't based in reality, or were too staid and conservative. Or too cute. Did I mention I hate switching banks? Especially when it's a forced move because of repeated errors? "But computers never make mistakes." Today: suits and airports. To really fulfill my role as a suit, I suppose I've got to go and find some little old ladies to run over. Right, run over old ladies and sleep with clients. I got one e–mail pretty high on the weird factor late last night, while noodling around on the web. Some son of the south [sign: Libra] was irritated at my spelling of "ya'll." I prefer, "Ya'll" instead of the more grammatically correct "y'all." My reasoning is pretty simple, it has to do with pronunciation. Local dialect sounds more like ya'll than y'all. Just sort of the way it is. I did take great pains to point out that the spelling was not done to iritate this one particulr correspondent. In other words, I wasn't doing it to piss him off. 2/27 Someone sent me an article about how to tell if a Dallas businessman was successful — according to the text — the more successful, the more casual the attire. [I really liked the closing lines.] Going by that scale, my usual shorts, no shirt, no shoes? I must be wildly successful. [Day trip to Dallas this week, full suit gig, coming up, why I was thinking about it.] Monday, after a late night on the road, returning from from the coast, was a rough day. It did, however, include many familiar elements, like doughnuts, Asian food [in quantity], girls with fabulous red hair, a new place for coffee, and the Neighbor's soaps: "I only watch on Monday and Friday, just to get story." Late last night, it finally happened. It's been two years — or more — in the planning stages. With the Moon just right, I got my hair cut. I let that girl whack off almost six inches. To be honest, my hair was starting to look like that West Texas rodeo girl's hair, the ends were rather frayed — the long, sun drenched hair with about six inches of split ends. Looks like I'm no longer blond as all the sun bleached stuff got clipped. Wound up on the bathroom floor. But after trying to untangle my hair from the coast trip, it really felt worth it. Besides, there aren't a lot of folks I would trust with scissors around my locks. I'm thinking about covering up the gray at the temples with a little splash of color, like maybe some purple. While I was waiting on my friend, at one point, I was stuck reading some bizarre magazines, and I found out that, as a Sagittarius, I should have a Python Make Up case [$340]. Don't see that happening anytime too soon. It suggested a plaid one [$40] for her, and she just crinkled her nose at the thought. I wonder about this astrology stuff, sometimes. Who writes this stuff? 2/26 In theory, Mercury is no longer in retrograde. In theory. Sunday morning, after downloading all the e–mail, and packing up the computer to go back to work, I had to wrestle with the super trick retractable phone cord, taking three frustrating tries to finally undo it from the phone. I was about to abandon it, but then the Moon moved into Aries, and I managed to finally dig it out of the socket, sort of one last reminder that Mercury is still playing tricks with communication devices. Blackened Flounder. Fresh Drum. Oysters fresh out of the Gulf. Approximately 4 dozen oysters fresh out of the Gulf, if you believe the tales about me. I'm going to miss the seafood. Following the middle school teacher's convention, there was the state wide a drag queen affair, and I had to suggest that one of the characters looked like he had just come from the Parrot Head show, complete with coconut brasserie. Snippet from a comment, "So I saw this guy hitch up his gown, and make a mad dash to the Men's Room." Oh yes, I'll miss CC. This one just in, one from the road. 2/25 There are several scary things which have occurred over the last couple of days. One, see, there was a "Texas State" middle school teacher's convention in town, and the elevator opened, and I was face to face with a crowd of school teachers. Made me feel like I was about three feet tall. I made a snickering comment about this, and one of the teachers fixed a look at me, "Oh yes, I remember you. Don't think we forget." Place to eat breakfast, and I suppose I've mentioned this before, but there's a little joint called "U & I Restaurant." Another local kind of place. I also got a breakfast for under five bucks. This is the sort of place I like, the kind of ambiance that sets the correct mood for this town. On the the one side, there are graceful mansions sitting on the edge of the bay, the giant breakers crashing into them, and then, across the street, the little things that make a town a town. After working hard all day, we staggered down the street to Water Street Oyster Bar, and halfway through the meal, an ex looks at me, and slurs, "Why do you always look better with alcohol?" 2/24 CC = Corpus Christi, Texas, one of the oldest settlements along the Texas Gulf Coast. Home to many nice refineries, too. On the way down from Austin, I was riding with some buddies, and one them knew — he swore — this great taco place San Marcos. We had a little road food there — Herbert's Taco Hut. Recommended, a good, distant second place behind Angie's tacos. Then it was on into the Brush Country, south of San Antonio, the area usually called South Texas. I kept remarking how beautiful it was, but then, the first of the spring's wildflowers were rioting across the landscape, growing more abundant the further south we got. Set up, say hello, and head on out one more time, fresh seafood at Snoopy's, just across the inter coastal waterway. "How'd you find this place, Kramer?" Locals. Follow the locals — they usually know the best places to eat. Fresh seafood, near as I could tell, right off the boat. 2/23 Off to CC for the weekend, a little Gulf coast fishing? I've got my list of things to do when Mercury is no longer RX, like switch phone companies again, get that DSL hook up, and so forth. New bank, maybe, better credit card processing company. Maybe start taking American Express? I never got worked into one of those ads, you know, "Get a reading from the Fishing Guide to the Stars, but don't bring your American Express, he prefers cash...." I'm supposed to wander off with my fine Capricorn friend for a haircut on Monday, as well, just as soon as I get back from CC. Bubba was my primary editor for a long time, and he had some pretty good advice about column length, something along the lines of "write to the topic, then adjust the page to fit what you have," and this was an answer to why I was writing some scopes just to fit a particular length or so I could fit the whole thing into a certain size slot. Other than my brief stint in the local tree killer [Austin American Spaceman], I've been working on content rather than letting a specific word length limit me. I was trying to meet my deadline yesterday, and I found myself invoking the the most heinous of word processing routines: word count. I hate that. "Each sign needs to be at least 100 words." What do you say when there's nothing to put in there? Music selection — Orbital: the music of nowhere. Book selection — God Save the Sweet Potato Queens. Here's the tip about that book: if you're a female, the book is highly recommended, read The Sweet Potato Queens Book of Love first, then the sequel, which appears to be even better. If you're a guy, read the books, in order, and see if it doesn't help you understand them. Plus, both books are really amusing — made me laugh out loud. It's all that relationship psycho babble put in terms that are easy to understand. And it's funny, especially if you know anything about Southern Women. I may be an arrogant male pig, but that won't stop me from really enjoying the books. I stopped on the corner of Congress, to chat up a Gemini yesterday during rush hour, "Wow, I was meaning to e–mail you Kramer, and here you are...." I asked her how my visigoth look was going. "Pants, black, fine. Shirt, all black, that's good, too. But the sport coat has way too many colors in it." I guess I've got a long way to go — when it comes to fashion, I'm pretty sure I don't have much of a clue. Sunday 9:40 AM, CST, Mercury gets better. I can't wait. Late night Leo conversation, pursuant to the Sweet Potato Queen book, "I like being from the South, not being in the South. That's true, that's one of the best things." Of course it was the Virgo who said, "You have to love a guy who can read these books and laugh....." 2/22 Vivaldi and Prodigy for music. I had to put Prodigy on after seeing "Charlie's Angels." Had one of those songs stuck in my brain — for 48 hours, no less. That movie was well–crafted entertainment. While doing meaningful research on the web, I found out about another local dot com death. I seem to recall, though, as recent as a week or two ago, that very company was advertising and claiming they were hiring. I took off to the bank, to try to find my missing hundred bucks. Still lost in space, someplace. As I was strolling along under a leaden, gray sky, I was thinking of myself as having certain "gothic" overtones. I dress in black, except when I get dressed up to go to the bank, or go out, or go just about anywhere, I mean, I usually wear black. And a Hawaiian shirt. And I am Caucasian, except when I was out catching some rays like yesterday afternoon, walking along with my Hawaiian shirt in hand. "Yes, I'm goth." Right. That one will fly just fine. It just goes to show that I don't think I perceive me the way other folks see me. Yesterday's quick jog to the bank turned into quite the ordeal. I was planning on grabbing some lunch, but to make to the bank before they closed, I had to skip Avenue Cafe idea (or Sushi on the Avenue), and I never did much care for Manual's, so I lopped on down 6th Street, stopping to ask the chalk artist what she was drawing, "It's Aquarius," she said. "But the sun's in Pisces now," I replied. "But I'm an Aquarius; are you with one of the papers?" No. I'm just an astrologer, ma'am. I was thinking I would try some Vietnamese food, but I passed the place and kept going. Then I was thinking, Empanada Parlour, but my feet wouldn't turn in, there, either. Try Iron Works again for ribs and brisket? No. So I kept going. Angie's? Best taco in town? Nope. I scooted through the East Side of town, past the coffee roaster place, over the tracks, and down south, then back up on the other side of the river. Aranda's looked appealing, and that heavenly scent of roasting meat was wafting along on the afternoon breeze. Then it was on over, La Perrilla? Marisco's? Not quite. Rosita's was where I wound up, hungry and tired. What started as a quick jaunt took most of the afternoon, and I covered some serious mileage. All of this was a way of getting around to discussing Mars being in Sagittarius — it's an activity thing. Best thing to to do is stretch the legs. Oh yes, the first of the new ads are in place starting today. 2/21 I was working on web layout, shooting for a new look, a new feel, a fresh design. Doing this when Mercury is Retrograde has certain limitations — like it took three, four, even five tries to get some piece of software to work right, or to get the right button to roll over correctly. I redid this page several times, mauve, pink, blue, but it keeps winding up boring old black. I'll try white for another day. As I went on a web walk to steal ideas, I came across some interesting stats here. Which don't add up with what I saw here. The question is what's too much information, and what's the best way to get all the stuff on this site available? White or black background? Musical selection: Beethoven's Symphony No. 9 in D Minor. "Choke on this, you Danceteria types!" [Something from the Dead Milkmen to balance the classics.] The other point in web design I've never been able to figure out is about the update thing. I made an executive decision (sounds funny when I'm not wearing any long pants), and I opted for a single page layout for the scopes themselves. That creates two files to upload on Monday mornings, not thirteen or fourteen, one to the archive, one to the index. Then, on this journal, I could never figure out why folks would do pour so much effort in a single day's entry, making it look all nice, not when I have to face the same problem with archive and retrieval architecture The solution? More books about design and theory? Wonder where the new name is from? Strange story, there. One other interesting link I stumbled across had to do with web publishing and macro as well as micro content. See: the scopes I write are currently running over 2,000 words per week. Or, it looks like about 200 words per sign. Compare that to the 12 to 15 words you get in a daily scope, or the alternative newspaper scopes that run about 75 words per sign. The web allows for a brand of publishing where the size doesn't matter, bigger is better. 2/20 Working on new business cards, I was going to shoot for something a little more interesting than just, "Fishing Guide to the Stars." I was going to try for something like, "Secret Agent — Raconteur — Black Bag Jobs — Fortune Teller — Revolutionary — Astrologer — Live Bait — Web Page Design — Monster Trucks — Celebrity — Low Riders — Used Tires — Space Cadet — Lover — Oracle — World Traveler — Alien Love Child — Mad Scientist — Fishing Guide to the Stars." I read something interesting in a competing astrologer's page, about how, "all reports are prepared by hand." Well, yes, judging from what I've seen, the material was entered by hand, and then someone hit the "print" button. But the actual text? Looks an awful lot like a straight ahead software compiled report. Trick being, I guess, since it was entered by hand, then it does receive personal attention. Shoot, in that case, the hundreds of free reports I toss out every week are all "prepared by hand." I wandered off to hike yesterday afternoon, but wound up at a strange BBQ place, long time local fave, Iron Works. All they have to do is hook it up to "smell - o - vision." Right, if they can make in movie theaters, how much longer before it comes to the web? And are you sure you want to smell a trailer like mine, coffee grinds, stale smoke, kitty litter, and my dirty laundry? Probably not. I went to see the remake of "Charlie's Angels" last night. Loved it. Not much in the thought department, but sitting in a very crowded Alamo Drafthouse Theater, it was nice to hear the crowd cheer for the good guys. The sad part of the tale, my tale, not the movie, was while I was line, I overheard some girl say, "Dude, like he's so old, he's, what, 28?" Ouch. 2/19 Motorola Marathon, right alongside the banks of the Colorado River, right in front of the old FGS Trailer, too. No jokes this year, though. That Pisces comment really got my goat. I reviewed everything, and to be fair, I think I was more than justified for my comments and actions. I had to remind myself about something I was just quoting to a client, "The only thing worse than being talked about is not being talked about." [Attributed Oscar Wilde.] "Never give up, never be afraid to fail." The high point for my next week? I get to proofread all my own stuff before I submit it for publication elsewhere. Maybe I don't please the Pisces, but I do amuse myself. Had to sneak into the Neighbor's to watch King of the Hill. Late last night, I was sorting through the CD stack, and I identified what it is that I like, this one cut: Beethoven's Symphony No. 5 in C Minor, op. 67 "Fate" [Allegro con brio]. This cycled through the virtual vacuum tube last night — I love it when authors reply to their fan mail from me: >Dear Kramer, This is eggzackly why you are the ONLY man I have EVER REALLY >loved. >Be Particular--jillconnerbrowneTHEsweetpotatoqueen 2/18 Welcome to Pisces? The Moon was at a late degree of Sagittarius, and I did readings for Sagittarius and Leo. As well as had a some breakfast at a very crowded Magnolia. Now that things have slowed done, just a little, and now that the worst of the Mercury stuff is over, I got to messing around with the web pages again, trying to make sure everything was nice and clean. I took another stab at a shopping cart, but the configurations get just about impossible about half way through the set up — causing a glazed over expression on my face. And what I didn't do on the shopping cart, I did do on getting a real message board up. This morning, bright and early, after being nudged out of bed by a hungry cat, I found a really flaming note from Pisces — someone didn't like this week's scope very much. Now, I could do a lot of things, but I finally responded with a "thank you" and posted the note — in its entirety — in the new forums. |
