Coffee & Astrology 
Written By: Ash Catcher

Water: 


Coffee crazy Cancer 
Trying to keep it all together.
House of cuppery, losing sanity.
Master of all profanity.

People pleasing Pisces.
Nostalgic necrophilia psycho killer.
Can never decide what to order.
Stuck in a dreamland of disorder. 

Scorpio put down the espresso. 
Coked out, riding out of their minds writing raving manifestos.
Yea we know you’re so intense. 
But out of all the water signs you’re just the most stubborn, and dense. 



Air: 

Gemini is torn between two drinks. 
Trying to combine the two. 
What is the truth? What do each of you want? 
Each side shows a different truth. 

Loose lisp Libras thought you would go for the tea. 
Throws a curveball at me, and orders a Pepsi. 
Still Trending, dysfunctional kazoo.
Not too sure what to do with you. 

Aquarius is on the phone, and sends me a google invite. 
To talk about my plans for “ A Real Job.” Not sure if it is in spite of for the latter. 
But that is the thing with air signs On to the next thing 
Like to float around, never settling, I admire that directional swing. 


Earth: 

Virgo is in the corner categorizing the sugar packets. 
Shaking them so they all fit evenly, causing quite a racket. 
Lining them up, now I know you thrive on patterns. 
"Guess I should bring up something irrelevant that doesn’t matter.”

Capricorn is attempting to organize all the Matthew’s in their phone. 
Best of luck with that endeavor, they’re all just a bunch of bros. 
Cold Brew like personality. 
Can tell a lot about a man, by asking how they feel about police brutality. 

Taurus is trying to survey the whole room, reading it at their best. 
Honest to a fault they are without a doubt some of my favorite guests. 
They always love conversation, and always hold up the line. 
My Ace up my sleeve, my fast tract to the spiritual realm and their timing always devine.


Fire: 

Aries, showing up where they are not welcomed. 
Keeping the conversation always short and seldom. 
Casual indifference, bitchy little vibes, you think you are my only middle aged balding Aries. 
If I could rename your sign I would change it to Larry.

Leo has a latte. 
That screams red flags, it’s a hot day.  
Milking underdeveloped mediocrity. 
And I am not trying to capture the flag, more focused on this cappuccino’s topography. 

Sagittarius, last but not least let me take a guess, you want something spontaneous, and sweet. 
A Carmel Macchiato, good fucking god no drink should ever exceed 8oz. Why do you insist on mods? 
Tripe the liquid, oh wow cause you’re so fun and a flirt. 
That is nice and all, but you never last, and just so you know later all that dairy is gonna hurt. 



This is what I can assume each astrological sign would act if they went for coffee. 
How would they interact with one another, would they act nice or cocky. 
My co-workers like to casually throw around sun signs. 
Lots of personalities and coffee combined. 


I am sure I can guess your drink order, and sign.



-Ash ​

​Fake It Until You Can Stage It: The Audience and The Artist 
Written By: Ash Catcher  

I love a good show, whether it is a stage show,  a good tv series, a movie, a concert, or even a hauntingly precise  reenactment of Washington crossing the Delaware river on Christmas in the dead of winter, entertainment is just there to make this unbearable existence we have dared to call life just a tad bit more interesting. Good god was that a run on…. This week I wanted to talk about the dynamic between the audience, and the artist. Now is there a grey area? That is what I would like to find out, at what point does someone in the audience snap out of their primordial slumber and get this wackadoo idea in their head that they too can be an artist, and should start performing all their hopes and dreams? 

     Creativity and Cycles: Like the cycles of the past few moons, you best believe personally for me my creative cycles depend on a few things: my schedule I work a fuck ton. I am not even exaggerating. I am trying to build an empire and I don't have time to hang out with you most of the time. I cannot see much benefit aside from having a human moment or two, which can most of the time be overrated. The way I create is on a pretty strict schedule. Every Monday I write, I write till my fingers fall off essentially and then Tuesday I draft up AT content to be posted on Wednesday. Everything is on a Wednesday I have curated everything so that smack dab in the middle of the work week people can hopefully find a bit of solace and entertainment to break up from the work week, or if your like me you’re most likely working weekends as well, and forgot the other day was Saturday. I both envy and pity people with a 9-5 weekend warrior lifestyle, go you. Clap Clap. I make sure if I have an idea for something I write it down in my note app on my phone, it is freaking chaos in there full blown moon in Scorpio anarchy. This loops on a weekly basis until I eventually give up, or hire an assistant to help me organize my life because I am too busy doing it for other people. 


      The Audience, and The Artist Intermingling: Just like almost everything I make at work, lots of ingredients go into a vortex and you add heat and something sweet you can make just about anything and charge 6.50 for it…. .75 extra for Oat milk- hey I don't make the rules. I love to romanticize things, I don't know why, and I am unbelievably forgiving and empathic towards inanimate objects, and people who do not deserve second chances. But man oh man do I love seeing the dynamic of an audience. A collective hive of individuals, most of the time that seem to be vibrating in unison over whelp it could be just about anything I mean even watching GOT finale back in 2019 with a group of friends could constitute for an audience. But like that ending still fucking sucked. The thing I really like is when audience members seem to almost have an “OH SHIT” moment where I think a few things are going on in their heads: 1) I think I can do this too, I want to express myself in some sort of art outlet, and 2) Sheesh I need to pee but I don't want to use the bathroom and risk missing anything. There are two types of people in this world: People who want fame, the need and drive to express themselves, and everyone who is too timid to do anything, deer in the headlight, What IF I make an idiot of myself kinda people. They are better off watching, I would love to go to a show again, I just feel fucking agitated all the time when the thought ever occurs. I want to be left alone, and just create things like a maniac. Embrace the mania. But absolutely, the lights, all the people, your senses are all on fire and then the mindless and numbing starts to ensue, and like a drug you will want to go to a show 3 or 4 times a week- you'll spend way too much money, get crazy migraines, occasionally drink to much- or get drugged a bunch like i kept finding. Certain things tend to take away from the actual appreciation for the creation, and it just becomes a socially acceptable way or event to lose all logic, throwing it against the wall and watching it slowly bleed out. 

  Homogenized Creativity: Feeding off of other’s creative endeavors to inspire your own, I know I have friends who get mad when other people come out with things similar to their own, I am actually really flattered and lately when people tell me that I have inspired them to write again- that shit gets me feeling all warm and fuzzy- I keep it high vibe, and it's really a shame life is so short who gives a shit if someone wants to be you- be humble it's flattering when someone acknowledges your creative errors and endeavors. I love when musicians get inspired from one another, otherwise how else would you have all of these genres and styles of music, it didn't all just come from a primordial G chord. 


I am done ranting for this week, see ya next Wednesday 


-Ash

​The Tuna People 
Written By: Ash Catcher 

*I am listening to Mr. Scruff Ninja Tuna ( that weird song that magically downloaded itself all on our iPods back in 2010 without explanation) 


Tuna People, choice cuts of market price eats. 
An elusive exclusive school of fish, all the other sea creatures dying for the deets. 
The SeaWeed Barnacle Reads: Third Party Tuna  Commits Grand Larceny.
Using people like their own personal pharmacy. 

Always together, a close little knit kin. 
Hard to backstab others, when all you have is fins.   
When family is supposedly forever, but you're craving for something more. 
A fish with very little morals, and hella delusions of grandeur. 

Something is lurking in the basins where we are kept. 
Implant chipped, and tagged, I feel something in the back of my neck. 
A feeling, that I am not quote sure, but something is fucking fishy. 
Some weird shit is a foot, keep spending too much money on sushi lately, turning into a total Ritchie. 

Golden eyes are encrusted with salt.
PPP, information organized meticulously, all bought. 
Not sure who you people think you are, you work for a corporate candy bar.  
Been wondering this for years, why am I terrified of white cars. 

This school of tuna seems like a self deprecating trap. 
Not trying to abuse my body anymore, dude I just need a nap. 
But these fins seem to be crossed behind your back. 
If I had quit drinking that poison sooner, maybe I would still be driving Jack. 

But Tuna, Tuna, Tuna dammit don't you taste all too familiar. 
Filled with harmful chemicals, pure mercury, and silver.
You come off unassuming, and good for you.
This whole thing is a lot for someone to chew.