10:33 a.m. - 09/22/03
[walk like the animals:>
so, yesterday was slightly less horrible. the morning sucked pretty seriously; I was once again curled up with a book - though this time it was the incredible and far-too-long-postponed House on Mango Street by Sandra Cisneros. I woke up thinking perhaps I wanted to do something, but none of what I normally "do", in terms of going out, enticed me, and I realized as I listed options to myself that they basically all hinged on consumerism. I couldn't go to the library because of the Sunday-factor (instantly, my head became argumentative: "libraries are holy spaces and therefore should always be open on Sundays" - even going so far as to compare the smell of old books and library glue to the smell of old relics and incense) and without the library, I seemed to have sunken considerably into a mess of different stores with varying options. now, perhaps my lack of television-watching lately has made me even more anti-Americafied-media, perhaps not; either way, I felt compelled to challenge myself. what else is there to do except shop and buy into philosophies I despise? museams. but I dislike museams, sadly; they're much like movie theaters: I love films and hate the "theater" experience (the quotations house a snobby condescension based on my stage theater experience, preference, and downright prejudice). in the same manner, I adore (some) art (obviously), but dislike the feel of a museam. this distate sent dominoes spiraling: art museam, history museam, other history museam, third history museam, all gone. I remembered a botanical garden with some relish and was getting fairly set in the idea when my mom suggested the zoo.
The zoo. In what century did I last visit the zoo? I decided, eventually, that it must have been on a field trip, which means it must have been prior to seventh grade, i.e. at least six years ago. I adopted the idea a bit giddily - animals! real, live creatures...why had I postponed this opportunity so long? - and we set off to see the zoo. Much happiness abounded, despite the over-commercialism (is there such a thing as commercialism that isn't over the top?) there as well. we simply avoided the gift shops, stands, and numerous wandering people intent on making us believe we needed souveniers to cement our experience. (hi. we live right here. I can come back and visit this polar bear; I don't need your shitty ty-beanie-baby rendition of him.) of course, our species was as interesting as any of the caged ones - our own very adorable young toddling and coasting around, for the most part content. I felt sad when I saw them cry and throw tantrums over souveniers, of course - when the small boy ran right by the *actual* penguins toward the penguin toys. it isn't so much a pretentious you-people-so-need-enlightenment sort of thing as, I know what that's like. I'm *still* there. and I'm pissed off on behalf of these kids who, like me, do not feel they've gotten their share, their treat, their love, if they don't have something they bought to take home.
unhappiness aside, there were animals. we saw the bears first, as I always do (I even tried to go in the other direction to balance this tendency, and we *still* saw the bears first). and as always, I became fully enamored with them very quickly. what? there are other animals to see? sorry? yes, I know that none of the black bears are out right now; you people have no patience! just wait... see! I told you she'd come back. first were the black bears, sleek and small, and with them (one-of-these-bears-is-not-like-the-others) a bigger, considerably *browner* bear, which led Mom and me into some amusing jokelings about how if you aren't white in this culture, you're black; there's just no room for the shades between extremes. eventually, I allowed her to lead me on to the brown bears, which indeed, our renegade friend very much resembled, where a downright brilliant bear decided to pirouette down steps. (he started with his back to us, put a foot on the step below, and spun a full 360 before stopping to face us.) serious showmanship, there; it blew his earlier performance - scratching his back against a tree, Ballou-style - right out of the water. Gorgeous. Again. Gorgeous. The movement of muscles under fur as these creatures simply walked...they rippled gracefully. Gorgeous. And one of the polar bears, the gorgeous more-yellow-than-white polar bears, had the good sense to chew on his foot. And when he was finished, he had the good sense of balance to chew, equally long, on the other foot. I watched this being for ...a good increment of time... simply chewing on his toes, and I haven't been that happy in days. (maybe more than days, but I don't really want to count, you know?) he's the one I wanted to come back and visit. I don't know why this was such a winning tendency (though seeing it repeated in a human baby a good while later brought up basically the same joyful feeling), but it was, and that is, and who cares? joy is joy.
just around the corner from the bears - and this always amuses me - are the prairie dogs. the poor prairie dogs. they're so *tiny* - more so, since everyone approaches them having just seen these huge, impressive bears. the poor prairie dogs are so tiny and so *industrious* that I can just imagine them running together, jumping on top of each other, and forming a bigger animal. like, RAH. we can do it, too. for some reason, when I told my mom this, she laughed. but it was a joyful laugh, so I let it be. ...and after the prairie dogs...goodness, who can remember? there was a woman in a leopard-print hat - and not just any leopard-print hat; an honest-to-Godd, cat-in-the-hat-style-hat in *leopard print*. we walked behind her, unsure whether to be amused or frightened (my first theory being that anyone who wore that particular leopard-print hat had to know how bad it was, and therefore, had to be good fun rather than frightening. this, however, was disproved.) we looked at the takin, again gorgeous, and a group of beautiful deer-like animals, who always look to me like unicorns, except they have two antlers in place of the one horn. I can never remember the name of the second group. we left the takin a bit disgustedly when a man nearby began talking about how ugly they are (they are so not ugly), which brought us up to speed with the leopard-hat-lady. she watched the unicorn-deer-dears for awhile, then turned just slightly to her left, saw the giraffes, and shrieked, "Eeeeeeeeee!" while another woman - one we hope was with her - caught sight of them as well, and followed, shouting, "ZEBRAS!"
now, why did it seem so overwhelmingly stupid, when it's so amusing in retrospect?
we waited awhile, significantly frightened by this point, before moving onto the "zebras" - giraffes - who share their bit of zoo-land with an ostrich. the giraffes (I just typed zebras - I swear, it's contagious) made me think of Mr. Rogers (Josephine, the short-necked-giraffe, anyone? my *favorite* week of episodes?), which was a little sad. the giraffes were quite still, and outdone by a bird in the pen next to them who paced his cell like Sherlock Holmes at a crime scene (I kid you not), then lifted his wings high and menacingly. I liked the ostrich, also. and the mother in the family near to us who said, "I think if I were an animal, I'd want to be a giraffe" - which instantly had me turning to my mom saying, "See? That's the sort of conversation you're supposed to have at the zoo." the amount of "he's ugly" commenting on the bears and takin and other gorgeous beasts, combined with some, "have you gained weight yet this year?" "I don't know. I think so. last year I gained from [blah] to [blah.]" "I have. I went from blah to blah." "But you're taller than she is" and so forth until I just wanted to take these three, skinny-end-of-healthy girls, and shake them heartily. weight talk is not zoo-approved conversation. and if they keep up the name-calling, pretty soon my toe-chewing polar bear friend will have a complex, and how much will that suck? (no pun intended.)
wow, zoo recollections taking much longer than expected. I, apparently, get out about as often as the animals.
[left off around 11:30 a.m. and resumed just after 7:30 p.m.]
after the giraffes, and ostrich, and Sherlock Holmes bird, we turned our course back and headed past two men with balding brown-red hair, beards, and impressive sunburns. just as I was pigeon-holing them into a "Dude, righteous sunburn" stereotype, (grr at me) the one man said to the other, "You know, your inner animal changes over time" - a comment so wonderfully unexpected that Mom and I almost fell in step behind the two of them to eavesdrop further. but, no. off to glimpse a chimp, not interested in company and stare down lions and tigers and cheetahs. we found otters (yeay, otters!) who were absolutely hysterical in their playfulness...then, swans, and ducklings...the ducklings insisted on swimming on their heads, so that only their tail feathers stuck up through the water, waddling along like feathery mouths. the seals that followed lived up to their reputation as performers: the climax of their routine took place when one of the seals in the water jumped onto the rock just below another seal, they met eyes, and screeched the same long note. much bellowing and screeching had taken place before this, but when the two seals met, there was a hilarious similarity to music - dissonance resolving into unison - and the seal atop the rock jumped into the water, while the second seal climbed up to take his place. wonderful.
we saw elephants, too, with their adorable flapping ears...and penguins -penguins! - all huddled together and chattering. we saw flamingoes flocked together on an island, and runaway peacocks fled down the trail past us. by the end of it all, we were indeed as sweaty and smelly as the rest of the animals, but I'd nevertheless enjoyed myself. I think perhaps it's the dirtiness of walking around the zoo that's kept me away from it for so long, but I don't so much mind getting dirty (on a day when I don't think I'm poison) so long as I can clean up before too long. after-the-zoo was a little difficult because we still needed to get dinner, and I didn't want to go anywhere remotely fancy considering I felt - and assumed I looked - like I'd just come off safari. some self-consciousness, admittedly. grr. I will beat this beast over the head with my recovery tactics until it leaves me, permanently. I will.
after all, when I got back to the apartment, I took a shower. and before I took the shower, I felt my own animal-ness and enjoyed it very much. I saw my body like I had seen the animals' bodies and despite my disappointing lack of feathers and fur, I felt again the functionality and the natural connection of being: the reality of me that is earth and life and animal. in the shower then, I felt more like I was playing in a fountain, which made the water fun somehow. besides which, cleanliness after sweat and dirt and oil - after real exertion, like my bike rides of old - is the best kind. no shower feels as good as that...
so we ate, and we drove back to our apartment, which - despite the fact that Mom always manages to get lost driving out of the park - was still far closer than any "home" I've ever lived in... in D!@#$%^, it took us an hour to go anywhere; here, one can *walk* to most places of interest in under thirty minutes. (some significantly less than that: five, ten...) and driving is a joke in comparison. I barely have a CD on before we arrive. it's beautiful.
and I still haven't even gotten inside any of the million library branches. ooooh.
chord
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