Astrology Home Buoy
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6/30
Full Moon, in strictest terms, usually means it's time to harvest something. A friend of mine did harvest something, she showed up last night with a small zip lock bag with a mighty suspicious looking herb in it, "Hey, it's homegrown," she said, "and the cat will love it. Maybe she'll start to like me...." It was fresh catnip. Didn't quite work on the cat, though, she's getting a little more demanding as she matures. Rub her just right for a while, and she might grace you with her presence for a few moments. So much for trying to bribe a cat with herbal goodies. We hooked it over to 6th Street to listen to 3PO and their last June set at Steamboat. Our route was greatly impeded by the harsh glare of a movie set. Somebody was shooting a scene for a movie, and it was a great inconvenience, not just for us, but apparently for a number of people. The street was closed off, and we missed the first restaurant we were looking for. But after a quick bite, we did make it to hear 3PO. My companion is a dear friend of many years now, and she was impressed enough to buy the band's CD, "Hey, these guys are good." After the set, while she was buying the CD, I was standing outside, watching the street and the traffic roll by. A waitress from next door (Paradise Grill) came shooting out of the front door of her establishment. Since this person had just served us diner a few hours early, I did my best to strike up a conversation. A Scorpio from Northeast Texas. I flipped her one of my business cards, stressing that I am on a personal crusade to correct the unjust image of Scorpio's everywhere. "How many women would do such a message?" [Two Gentlemen of Verona IV.iv]

6/29
"I don't want to complain, but there's no substance to the Virgo horoscope this week..." But upon review, I had to beg a second opinion. Just goes to show what I have to put up with on some days. This morning took a little extra time to get going because I had to go back and decimate a column of ants crawling across the kitchen counter. My carefully executed pogrom is merely a holding action, and I'm not sure that I'm really winning at all, merely stemming the flood. And that's the "decimate" in the truest sense of the word, which means to reduce by one–tenth. Statistically, decimate is usually used the in the wrong sense, and using the same statistics, I don't think I even got close to killing that many. I just wiped out single column that had split into two, and both sides of the ant front were pushing across my kitchen. The message I hoped they got was simple: not on my kitchen counter. It's not a counter that's big enough for all of us. It's either me or the ants. I won this morning's round. Although, I seriously doubt that I really wiped out one–tenth. More like a fraction of a percent, but it felt like victory.

6/28
Sunday and BBQ go hand in hand, and when I got invited out for a little pre–Fourth of July BBQ, I couldn't just turn it down. So we piled into the truck, swung by the legendary "Whip Inn" to grab cigars, and charcoal, and assorted goodies, and we were off to another trailer park in South Austin. Fire up the grill. The end of the evening found us standing around in the Texas evening enjoying a game of dart. Maybe the Sun is in Cancer, and maybe the \Moon was in Sagittarius, but it's still a Scorpio gal who beat us all in the final bull's eye.

6/27
I would suppose that I should be a little worried about my Neighbor, now. What with the all the serious sports now gone from TV, go Spurs, go Stars, apparently, there's not a lot to watch. I came in this afternoon, just to check up on him, banging my way through the trailer's door, and he was engrossed in High School All–Star Football. "Check it out," he mused, channel surfing in desperation, "Women's Soccer..." I had a busy afternoon — drop some charts off for a student, do a reading for another, then one of my Cappy friends was heading out of town, and she had me take her to the airport. Means I've got wheels that work for the next week or so. All in a summer afternoon.

6/26
"Got milk?" asked my dinner companion, "Tres Leches." It was all sort of a blur because someplace (Madison Square Garden, perchance?) an athletic team from South Texas was trying to make some history. And, across the street from where we were dining, Junior Brown was going to play — and I had some tickets. It was alternating between rain and sun all day long, as the Neighbor observed, "The Devil is beating his wife — rain and sun." Then, it seemed to clear up some in the afternoon. But not a lot. I did get rained on at the same time as the sun was shining. Then it was dinner time, during the game, after the dessert of "three milks," we sauntered across the street to wander into the Continental Club. The opening act was from San Antonio, and they would take breaks between their songs to get an update on the game. "We just played in San Antonio, and the Spurs kicked our ass," the band confided. At the final seconds of play, a great cheer arose. Junior Brown came on about midnight. He plays a "Guit–Steel" doublenecked, custom-built guitar that's half electric guitar and half steel guitar. Some sort of strange hybrid, and it's certainly a weird sound. He's fun to watch with a rich, deep voice, straw cowboy hat and furiously flying fingers as he alternated between the two necks. He used to be a regular a the Continental club, back before he got famous and on TV — or is it on TV and got famous? In either case, it was chance to see some him in a rather intimate setting.

6/25
I guess that "fang shoe" stuff is beginning to work. Wrap a red cloth around the old cattle skull, and behold, I almost get a date. There could be something to this stuff yet. I wonder if net sales will pick up if I get one of the cats with a little paw raised. I asked the cat of the house to stand in the wealth corner, but she was entirely unwilling to sit there at all. She's supposed to bring good luck, but so far, she seems a lot more interested in "Cat TV" which looks a lot like a bird feeder with numerous attending avian types out on the trailer's patio. So much for the ancient art of placement.

6/24
"Dude, if I'd had a flat-head screwdriver with me, and there weren't so many damn security cameras, I coulda gotten you an AWESOME souvenir from Vegas" Yes, lunch with Bubba. He had to relive that one moment in Las Vegas one more time. And the plaque he was talking about — it was a little brass job about an astrologer who was in residence at the hotel: "Readings are for entertainment purposes only." Sounds familiar. I'm busy trying to adjust the "fang sway" of my place these days, trying to get that optimal arrangement. I think I need to drape a little red cloth over the big bass mounted on the wall. And there's got to be a way to highlight the dead cow skull which seems to be a in wealth corner, too. Something to set it off which will activate the flow of money towards me instead of away from me. I guess my wealth may lie in cattle futures.

6/23
I've seen it at the old airport, and I'm sure it's all over the new one, too: Austin: Live Music Capital. Another version says: Austin: Live music capital of the world. More than one local person has groaned under the sobriquet, too, and like I've observed before, in Austin, one is never more than two degrees away from a musician. One of the guys who lives in the trailer park plays with a band. My favorite cab driver plays regularly. Another former neighbor is now doing percussion with Three Penny Opera. Okay, I'll give them a listen. He slid me the CD, and I was rather stunned because it wasn't a distinctive "Austin" sound (Texas Blues Rock Jazz Country Metal Latin thing). One time I took a friend to hear Three Penny Opera and she just couldn't get over the fact that the lead guitar player looked exactly like her college chemistry professor. But the strength of the band is probably America Alva's vocals. She has a strong, clear voice. I checked them out again last night, a humid summer night in Austin. The band closed their set with two songs, first, a "B" side from the bass player that is going to go places, and then America's tip of the hat (?) to salsa. And the friends I didn't hook up with last night? No, I didn't take my phone with me because it's now an established fact that I can't hear my phone ring when it's in my pocket, or when I'm in loud club — give it up. Did I mention that Three Penny Opera also has a violin player? No, not a fiddle, a violin. There's a difference, and this is a violin. In a town where everything begins to sound the same, here's a group that sounds different. "Los Super Seven" cycled up on the CD player next, and maybe there is a tinge of Latin music in Three Penny Opera, but trying to shovel the band into a single category does them a disservice. It's a unique band, and surely destined for broader appeal. www.coyotemusic.com should have their first CD for sale.

6/22
"It's like frozen Jerry Springer on blades with billy clubs and a more decisive victor." The rain never did abate yesterday so the only device I had for entertainment until the appointed Virgo hour was e-mail, and I liked that one comment best. The other, equally amusing bit of information was the fact that the two Virgo girls last night were far more interested in getting home in time to watch the Spurs game. Looks like it was a good game to miss. I did also finally finish reading the book by Will Self. I'm pretty sure I've read some fiction by the same author, and according to the book jacket, he's published a number of short stories. Best phrase for it? Bizarre. "My idea of Fun" combines some rather strange elements, and does defy fitting in any one classification, although supernatural magical realism and memoir comes to mind. It does question the ethics of marketing types. Between the ominous rain clouds, there was a ray of hope this afternoon, and I found myself at Magnolia Cafe for lunch. It's reassuring to be greeted by everybody, "Hi Kramer." It was largely Capricorn crew with just a few holdouts, the Cancer and a lovely Gemini. One of the manager types is sporting a new hair style: leopard print hair — it actually looked good, too.

6/21
It was while I was talking to one of my special buddies, and listening to her talk about a Jimmy Buffet song, I realized what I had omitted from the Hockey wrap up wherein the Dallas Stars out lasted (apparently — I was listening to a band) the Buffalo something or other: "Boat drinks. Boys in the band ordered boat drinks. Visitors just scored on the home rink. Everything seems to be wrong." [Boat Drinks by Jimmy Buffet] while there are some other parts of the song which seem to catch some of the amazing incongruities of a team from Texas winning an Ice Hockey thing, there you have it. There's been a long, slow and almost steady drizzle for the last 48 hours, or, at the very least, it's certainly what it feels like. The river is full of trash which has washed into it, and it's going to cut down on my out and about time today. Maybe I'll do something really interesting like balance my checkbook. For the sake of astrological research, though, the Virgo string has remained unbroken: breakfast yesterday, dinner last night, and a happy hour (hopefully) this evening.

6/20
Saturday night started in a trailer in S. Austin, but under stern warnings from the "the band," I was instructed to get to the club early because the place supposedly filled to capacity early. So much for watching the Stars whip up on the other team from upstate New York — I was out to see Three Penny Opera, 3PO, for short, as in "See 3PO" which is a sort of a cross pollination band. I'm not sure what to call them, but with a strong vocalist, and a slightly eccentric instrumental line up, the band is good. Unlike some bands that just stick to tried and try numbers, 3PO did at least one or two songs that are in the "under construction" phase. And it what seemed like a break, the bass player had one tune I really liked. I hope it's going on their next CD. I remember the first time I listened to their CD, I was rather impressed. One of my buddies had landed himself in a good band. The next set, by Soul Hat, finished up with a disco version of Bone Crusher — "I'm the mighty bone crusher and I crushed NYC, it wasn't nearly half as bad as they make it look like on TV, I jumped down from the Empire State and landed on my head, I got up and did a little friggin' dance to prove I wasn't dead...."

6/19
It's going to be increasingly more obvious that I don't know a lot of the mechanical details about certain sports. Not that it matters. As glad as I was to see the Spurs win last night, I was still wondering about some of the details. Same trailer, the night before, but it was a different Texas team, and I have to admit, I think all full contact sports would benefit from the apparent lack rules. Leastways, it seemed like there was an apparent lack of rules in ice hockey. It's offsides when you have two defenders on the same side, and it's not okay to hit someone if they are about to score a goal, but you can beat them shamelessly if they aren't near the goal. Sure, I understand that. Maybe I don't, but I wasn't going to worry about it. The New York team in San Antonio last night seemed to be getting a fractious because the Spurs were ahead. Now see, if they had the same rules — or lack of rules — as hockey, it would have been a lot more fun. Just think of 40,000 San Antonio fans pouring onto the court to even up the odds in a New York style street brawl....

6/18
What I don't know about certain sports being very popular in Texas right now is not going to come as much of a surprise. But I'll be brutally honest about a sport I really don't understand: hockey. Ice Hockey. Sticks, skates, a little puck that flies through the air with the greatest of ease. Violence. With the hue and cry about video violence, I wonder why no one even considers doing anything about the real violence, the stuff at the ice hockey game. And the rules? What rules? It seems to be pretty arbitrary, as near as I can tell. What looks like a fight in some cases is okay, whereas other times, some guy has to go and sit in the "time out" box for two minutes. Really makes this look like a mature sport, too, what with the time out box. I would have been personally offended by all the violence except I was stuck in trailer in South Austin, surrounded by a gaggle of mostly male friends, all cheering at various points, and talking excitedly about the amount of violence on the screen. Regular pro football is really tame compared to this stuff. Go Stars.

6/17
Got out early and headed towards the bookstore to pick up a text which had been ordered for me, but I was to early. I suppose that it's rare, but I was out long before the 11 AM opening time. I got home and worked on some projects laying about the trailer. Grabbed a paper and looked at it. Dallas Stars, going for a something or other trophy. The Spurs, too, hopefully about to beat some team from New York. Actually, the Spurs stuff fascinated me because the town was characterized as a "blue collar town" that is "50% Hispanic" which sounded dubious to me. But the profiles of the town, especially what the New York based writers were suggesting, was rather tasty. And folks up there wonder why we have such a dim view of the Northeast. San Antonio is a town full of people who got transferred there during a military stint, found that they loved not having to shovel snow in the winter, and stayed on.

6/16
It started out as an overcast day, and I kicked the front door open, to catch a nice breeze, blowing up from the coast with a gray and leaden sky. June is supposed to be a hot month, but this is "god weather," and it's as perfect as it can be. Cool, moist, fresh feeling. After an afternoon chasing all over town, I had a chance to settle into a quiet evening in the trailer just as the skies opened up in a big way. It was a Texas flood, although, certainly not of biblical proportions. While I was idle between clients this afternoon, I had a chance to read some of the morning paper, turns out there's a new affliction, a new thing we can all blame our troubles on, "Information Fatigue Syndrome." Sounds like a winner to me, I guess I should cut down on the number of e-mail accounts I've got, or get rid of the cell phone, but if I had done that, I would've missed some folks this afternoon. I'm back to reading material suggested by vague comments from bookstore employees, too, having exhausted my Virgo literary references. The book jacket for this one intrigued the staff, and they called it to my attention: "Will Self's first full-length novel is the most loathsome novel I have ever read. I have read it twice to make sure, and I am oppressed by a sickening, fatalistic feeling that I may read it again." — [The Evening Standard.]

6/15
Every day has a flavor to it. Monday was a "disgruntled Cancer" day. The Sag folks I know were having a good day. Of course, one those Sag fellows was myself — I was headed out of the parking lot at Shady Acres and along comes a little red rabbit with a Sag driver, and we were off. We stopped by the bank, and Jo's Coffee on S. Congress, and then my Sag buddy was delivering two tickets to the Spurs game to my neighbor. We knocked on the trailer door, hollered in the window, figured he wasn't there, and started to do something else. The Cancer guy wrenched the door open, gave us an angry glare.... the tickets to the play–offs softened his tender Cancer feelings about being awakened at such an unreasonable hour — 11 AM. The afternoon changed from "disgruntled Cancers" to Capricorn in nature as one friend bicycled by, and then I had dinner with another. So there was a definite change in flavors for the afternoon. "Where's the Moon?" — in Cancer.

6/14
There were series of events that were too funny to pass up on Sunday. One was my Sunday morning baptism by another reader. On the way to the show, we all stopped off for coffee and breakfast at a restaurant. "Grace told me to look for a water sign and you said Pisces was good for me," said a Scorpio ex as she calmly misplaced her glass and proceeded to dump cold water in my lap. All down the front of my lap, looked mighty suspicious. No hard feelings about that one. Then when I was sorting through the e-mail from Pa Wetzel, I found a note about him buying some new computers, and what it's going to be like when their place gets wired up:

>Need I remind you of the days when she resisted the answering machine and
>later the fax? Several thousand very well chosen words whenever we
>suggested them. Now she runs all her business (and me) with them. Just
>think what it will be like when instantly she can organize us all by
>e-mail. It will be fun. Now that you and Liebe are both on e-mail I
>predict there will be a blizzard of messages.

So that's what we have to look forward to. I suppose that it's a statement about the times when my folks don't just buy a new computer, but they get a whole mini–network for the house, cable modem and all, the old family homestead is going to be wired. I'm just worried about what sort of web page they might attempt to put up. Some folks shouldn't be allowed near a computer — immediate members of my family come to mind.

6/13
Long day at the Psychic Fair, a long afternoon of readings. I'd like to say that it was grueling, but it was sort of a slow day, for me. It was one of those days when I feel like I'm never on top of it at all. The only thing that seemed to flow was the lecture, it's a variation on a theme, the same abbreviated class that I teach, done in the short format, and I try to fit it all in an hour long lecture. There's always one person on the audience that's fun to play with and it varies as to which sign it is. "Well, your reading was a lot more fun than mine," suggested one person. Sure it was. It's all in the attitude. It is possible to deliver the news with an upbeat and amusing style. More fun, too. And that's what it's all about. I was a bit panicked at the end of the day, I've been living out of a suitcase for so long that I forgot a number of things, spare flyers, a fresh stack of business cards, that new banner, and so forth. Dinner was really, in relative terms a sedate affair, but I was worried because I was, literally, in my backyard. Down in the hood, so to speak, a mere half mile or so east of the trailer park. Worried me being seen with a table full of "psychic readers." Of course, in Austin, everyone pretty much fit in as normal.

6/12
It was a Virgo who was helping me along all afternoon. I did my best to evade her, but she caught up with me at the bookstore. "Kramer, you can't swing a dead cat without hitting Virgo, can you?" I was trying to mount an argument, but I was entirely unsuccessful. Just then, we were sitting outside on the patio of Guero's, another friend walks by, and I make some hasty introduction, "and she's a Virgo," looks like there is pattern here. I was wondering aloud with my neighbor, in a completely unrelated event (thank good that boy's not a Virgo) about the chances for the Dallas Stars to win the whatever cup in Ice Hockey. "And why isn't there any one named 'Bubba' on that team? How can they call themselves a Texas Team, Texas Flag on the shoulder, without a goalie named 'Bubba'?"

6/11
I was stopping at the corner convenience store to pick up a soda after my hike around the lake, and the homeless guy who lives in a wheelchair said something about the shirt I had in one hand, "Hey man, you really ought to give me that shirt," it was one of my favorites with turquoise dragons curling up one side and down the other, "you're not going to use it." I had to laugh — he never sees me with a shirt on. In a similar vein, about appearances being deceiving, I guess I should be honored by the large number of contestant entries which indicate I went to the Navel Academy. It's not true, but I guess I should be flattered. I had dinner with a nice Pisces, although she said, "Kramer you hate Pisces." It's not true, but her folks bought us dinner down at Guero's, and later I got to hear all kinds of stories about her parents. Then, on a whim, I convinced my Virgo driver to spin past the post office so I could retrieve some money from the mail box. No cash, no checks, and the postmaster had delivered a July issue of "Yahoo Life" magazine by accident to my p.o. box — check out the last page. Three stars for the website.

6/10
"Hey, I got two fortunes at the Japanese Restaurant tonight, what's that mean?" "Means you're Gemini..." is what I replied. I didn't see the Leo at the bank today, and I've got to remember to thank her some time. I was going to have a bad day when she said hello to me, and reminded me I knew her from some place. I just didn't realize she had landed in Austin. At my bank. First Austin gets smaller, now it's all of Texas that is getting smaller. I stumbled into the trailer next door too see about some packing materials, my neighbor is usually very helpful, and I got laughed at as I tried to construct a small box for shipping those cigars. Since there were about a half dozen guys lolling about the trailer, watching sports and doing guy things, and since I was getting laughed at I thought I would drop a comment about the dual date the night before, and mention the age of one of the women. Suddenly the cigars were very interesting, "So, those girls last night, did they like cigars, too?"

6/9
"Have I shown you the flaming Dalmatian shoes?" Yes, I've seen them. A cool design if a bit unusual in portions of Texas. Not in South Austin, of course. The shoes came up over some lunch with Bubba. A little later in the afternoon, I was downtown, "Coffee Promotes Confidence." I did swing by the Texas Tobacconist to grab some sweet smelling cigars to send to my host last weekend. I just discovered she has a weakness for Vanilla Cigars. Finally, after a strange evening with an Aries and an Aquarius (an "A" sign day), I was party to the most incredible cheese fries ever — it's no shock that I've been to Curra's Grill again. That's sort of normal for an evening's fair in the summer, around here. But the Cheese Fries look like a new top contender for the best real chili cheese fries. Amazing stuff. Secret ingredient? Chorizo. And don't ask. "My message must return from when it came" (Pericles I.iii).

6/8
I had one of those incredibly embarrassing event Monday afternoon. I hopped off the plane, caught a ride home with Jimmy the Cab Driver, unloaded the gear, and carried myself downtown to make a deposit. Passing the coffee shop, I stopped long enough to get something cool to drink, on my way towards the bank. Somebody had a cell phone that just kept ringing, while I was standing in line to get my drink order, and it was in my back pocket. It's not a good thing. Why bother to carry a phone if I don't answer it? But it was under the tail of my shirt so I never really thought it was mine which was ringing. So much for cell phones. After stopping at the bank, actually, while I was stopping at the bank, an unusual series of events began, first, a client from out of town recognized me, then, as I was just peeling my shirt off in the summer heat, another client almost ran into me on Congress Avenue, and finally, after a late meal — I put my shirt back on — I ran into another one of them pesky Gemini's. But I'm still embarrassed about the cell phone in my back pocket.

6/7
It was at dinner one evening in El Paso, I made passing, somewhat derisive comment about Virgo, and my dinner companions all suggested that a it was a good thing that the token Virgo wasn't there — and I worried about a bolt of lightening, earned from my comment. "Kramer, that would be muzzle flash from the Virgo, not lightening...." The Sagittarius question of the day, even for the week, is generating a lot of answers, but folks only seem to get about half the correct answer. Although, there is another answer that keeps popping up that is also correct. Not what I intended, but I have to be fair a reward a correct reply.

6/6
Grace has this long distance boyfriend, and it makes an interesting stay when the place is crawling fresh roses. I think her favorite is the red kind of rose. Might be white though, I'm not too sure. All I know is it seems to work for her — it sure doesn't work for me, though. I'm thinking about a new piece of office art: "In Case of Emergency —>" and the arrow pointing to a fishing pole. Astrological fishing wasn't too interesting in El Paso on Saturday, but the evening entertainment heated up with a Scorpio Lady Peace Officer. After some of her training, though, she had an interesting idea, "I'm getting a tattoo that says, 'Do Not Open' on my chest, in case of autopsy." Supposedly, that's where she had been before dinner. I overheard another interesting comment at dinner, as well, same source, but I'm not sure: "I want a man in my life, just not in my house." Nice sentiment, if you ask me. I believe my cats shares the same opinion, and I'll check with her when I get home.

6/5
Friday morning when I've got a flight out is sort of tumultuous time, and it's no different from the past five or six Fridays when I've been heading of to the airport, one more time. I was listening to my usual selection of music, a little bit of Kinky Friedman's new tribute album — Pearls in the Snow — with such classics as "Get you biscuits in the oven and your buns in bed" and lyrics like "They ain't making Jews like Jesus anymore" to the next CD which was a 1969 Moody Blues album (digitally remastered, according to the liner notes). I guess it's all old music, but I don't see much of a common thread in the acoustic styles. Then it's El Paso, and its wonderful cuisine. I'm liking this place. The pilot had an interesting maneuver orchestrated right before we landed in a heavy crosswind. Honestly, I'm pretty sure a lot of the Southwest Airline pilots are nothing more than crop dusters. Given the conditions, though, it was a wonderfully smooth landing.

6/4
"Look, it's bad time for a tattoo, but it's okay to get a body piercing," I said. I came up with that one during a reading, stopped, wrote it down on the back of an envelope, and then continued on. The deal is: it's a good time for something than can be removed and not leave a scar, but it's a bad time for something that is more permanent. Old Mr. Mars. It was also a series of Gemini birthdays I conveniently forgot. But I did have breakfast tacos at Maria's Taco Express, and they have some new art work up on the patio: "Santa Tacqueria del Austin Sur." I made silent homage to the saint, in hopes that the tacos would be good. They were, but one can guess that it's almost a forgone conclusion. I had another one of those amusing realizations this morning, alongside the taco place, as I was glancing at my wrist watch, worried that I was late. Every time I jump back and forth to a time zone, I usually bump my watch a minute or two, just to make sure I'm setting it for the right time. Early May was NM, then AZ, then AZ again last weekend, and by now, I'm running fifteen minutes ahead of schedule. Naturally, living someplace like Austin, it's okay to be fifteen minutes off, I rarely do anything on schedule around here, except for following that drum beat in my own head.

6/3
So the morning starts out with a phone call from a Virgo, and then my cell phone gets disconnected while some Bubba Broadcast group is trying to reach me, and then I have to call my cell phone girl who is a Virgo. I think I'm seeing a trend here. To make it more interesting, there was Virgo when I dropped off some artwork for publication work. "Kramer, I know you, you're a friend of Kathi's. I heard you on the radio, too." It's definitely a trend. The spell wasn't broken because I had dinner with yet another Virgo. Something is afoot. There's a clue here, but it could just be a coincidence to have so many Virgo's in action on a single day. I did listen to the Leo server's advice, though, and I had delicious dinner of some kind of lean pork done in a plantain sauce while the Virgo discovered the best Mole Sauce this side of the border. Good enough to make a Virgo smile.

6/2
"I was driving along, and I thought about this one: you know you're in Austin when you see a jeep with the top down, a pony tail bobbing to the music, and I'm thinking 'Looks cute from here,' and you pull up alongside, and it's a guy. Then I'm thinking, 'Damn, I don't have the wardrobe to gay.'" — Bubba Sean — "Oh right, then you'll just quote me out of context." I would never do that, my journalistic integrity is at stake here. Never out of context. Never, not ever. Wouldn't dream of it. And since a journal like this is supposed to record all the interesting things I did today, I had dinner with a Sagittarius girl, looking really fine, and I defrosted my ice box. Exciting life here in South Austin. Tall Sagittarius girl, too. It's getting to be a season of Tall Women.

6/1
What a weird day to ride around on airplanes, in cars, and be an astrologer. I left AZ, departing from the nurturing hands of Cancer, walked down the terminal building to get on a plane, and I saw a woman who looked terribly familiar. As we were boarding the plane, she said, "I know you..." and I heard a single brain cell connect with another in my head, "Yeah, you work for Miller, right?" "Coors. Coors Light." At least I got the Lite Beer part right. "Taurus, right?" "Yeah, and you said something about Venus, is that over yet?" Then it was the red headed Capricorn at Austin's new airport, and we had to try the new BBQ joint there, too. There's a Salt Lick BBQ right next to Amy's, and I realize it was a holiday weekend sort of atmosphere, but those were the only places that were busy. The pit boss at the Salt Lick was way behind in slicing brisket, too, poor fellow. So how many airports have decent BBQ, real ice cream and a good bookstore? And all with a price that is supposed to be no higher than normal? Today's closing thought is a rerun, but I liked it a lot: "We got it backwards, lawyers ought to marry people and clergy ought to divorce them."

© Kramer Wetzel, 1999

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