|Parrot likes to get head scratches!|
|Parrot sez: “DON’T ACT SCARY…got any almonds?”|
|Cutest Parrot EVAH!!!!!|
|Beautiful view, but oceans smell weird, and I don’t trust them. They are important for the ecosystem, however.|
|The hotel has honest-to-God functioning telephone booths. With doors, as you see. I remember them vaguely from my early childhood, but none had wooded paneling or oil artwork hanging inside. I thought this was funny, like gold-plating a tissue box.|
|Fountains are universally beloved. There must be a psychological explanation for this.|
|If I were a plant, I would be a cactus. But not one from Mexico. Definitely not.|
|Home again, Home again! Landing at the airport.|
|Look how overjoyed Parrot is to get veggies when I returned home! Parrot is so beautiful. I wish I was as beautiful as Parrot.|
By the time I got to the General Assembly rally tonight, the crowd was pretty small–the time of day (after dark) and the rain probably had something to do with it. The F, 6, and 4 trains were skipping stops all over downtown and the East Village/Lower East Side, which is a huge pain in the ass as well. I got down there via train, but then couldn’t take the train back uptown. I had to hoof it about two miles home. It was okay; I was wearing good shoes.
I took photos–not very good ones, because it was night outside. Also, after thinking about it, I decided against posting pictures of the crowd where faces are visible. I took photos without peoples’ consent. I also recall when police intelligence forces would analyze crowd photos to identify individuals. Not that I think cops are reading this blog (I can be paranoid, but I am not grandiose, thank you).
|“Trains? Tonight? What made you think that we would be running trains tonight, other than the complete lack of signs informing you and every else that service was in any way interrupted?”|
|You and me both, buddy.|
On one side of the park was a sort of sign mosaic. I hate puppets, music, and theater, but I think that signs are important in the media age. Anyway, here are a few (the rain ruined a lot of them):
|My personal favorite. Here’s to you, Banksy. I hate some of these assholes so much it makes my hair bleed (the banks, not the signs). They are evil, evil institutions.|
|More signs. I like the “all I got was this lousy summons!” one. No idea what that one is on the left.|
|Does WikiLeaks have official “units” like this? For real?|
I’d estimate the crowd at about 500 people–that’s the protesters, not the police and media.
|“Hello! I’m the most awesome parrot ever! Come to the protest tomorrow!”|
|Click to enlarge: “This Budgerigar…is reacting to its toy as if it were a mate.”|
I cut this out of a parrot book and have had it hanging on my office wall for about two years now. The first time I came across it, I thought it was hilarious, in a black sort of way. I identified with that poor stupid budgie immediately. Imagine how lonesome and deprived it must be to willingly delude itself and bond with a fake plastic bird. That budgie can love the fake bird with all its might for the rest of its life, but no matter what it does, the fake bird can never, ever love it back. Hapless budgie.
This is how Parrot looked today when I tried to give her a treat. Usually she eats from my hand eagerly.
I am working on a sexier blog post (at least, sexy to me), but since I had such a crappy day, I wrote this one instead.
Also, in the bottom is Rooster’s new home. I got tired of the substrate (that’s code for: I couldn’t deal with the algae anymore. Too much sunlight around my desk).
Today when I went to feed my betta fish, Rooster, and clean his home, I saw that he had built a bubble nest! See pic:
Male betta fish build bubble nests in the hope that when a female betta fish comes along, she will be enticed by the nest to mate with him and spawn.
I feel a little sorry for Rooster. I’m sure he built his nest with such high hopes (or the highest hopes a little fish could have). He has no idea that he will never, ever meet a female betta fish, much less spawn. I wonder what he would say if he had an intellect and powers of comprehension. Probably something like, “I never signed up for this, asshole!”
The parrot is well. I have joined a parrot forum to learn how to make her as healthy and happy as possible. In a few minutes, I’m going to let her out of her cage to watch TV with me. I think Gordon Ramsay is my all-time favorite TV sadist (he’ll get some special attention on this blog in time, no doubt). One would think that after last night’s events, I would have reached maximum saturation re: sadism and suffering, but apparently my appetite for such things is insatiable. Relentless.
Here’s a photo of parrot eating a nut (in case you couldn’t figure that out for yourself, haha).
So, this parrot came to live with me a week ago and I still haven’t decided what to call her. The Surgeon says I should name her after him, but that is not going to happen (and if you were wondering, he was not being facetious).
I seldom read the Bible now, but I studied it on a daily basis as part of my formal education in childhood. One of the stories that truly touched me, then and now, is of Adam naming all of the animals in the Garden of Eden. (Genesis 2:19-20)
And out of the ground the LORD God formed every beast of the field, and every fowl of the air; and brought them to Adam to see what he would call them: and whatever Adam called every living creature, that was the name thereof.
And Adam gave names to all cattle, and to the fowl of the air, and to every beast of the field; but for Adam there was not found an help meet for him.
The scene fascinated me. I remember ruminating about it at my schooldesk (the type of desk that lifted up on top, remember?) and thinking about my family pets. How old was I…? 8, perhaps…? In my mind’s eye, I pictured all the beautiful animals patiently lining up to meet Adam. A magnificent parade. He would stroke them and speak to them, and examine them closely but gently, like the kindest and most sensitive of physicians. If they were small enough, I imagined, he would hold them in his lap whilst he did this.
He could only choose names for each creature after he understood its unique nature. The name had to be appropriate; perfect. Naming was both an act of love and a responsibility (a responsibility not just to the animals, but to the Lord God, who had
basically assigned Adam to this task. God was a still a relatively chill, friendly dude at this point in the story, but Adam couldn’t have passed on this job even if he wanted to. Even nice, approachable Eden God does not like to hear, “No thank you!” Even in Eden, one did not complain to the management).
I digress. This story was the one particular thing that impressed upon me the uniqueness and the wonder of Eden. I pictured how the animals must have trusted Adam, and had no fear of him, from the largest to the smallest. A world without fear, without malevolence, only comradeship. ‘Innocence’ has always been a slippery, difficult concept for me to grasp, but that–Adam naming the animals in Eden–that must have been a state of innocence.
|I like this imagine because it’s from the 2nd Genesis, where Eve is created simultaneously with Adam, and also because everyone in the picture is smiling and looks really happy to be there. I would be happy, too. Source: http://www.artbible.net/1T/Gen0204_2ndTale_eden/pages/15%20ADAM%20AND%20EVE%20NAME%20ANIMALS.htm|
|I like this one because of the way Adam holds his hands out to them, palms open, in a universal gesture of nonthreatening greeting. Adam is supposed to be naked, but whatever. Source says it’s British XIII. Sidenote: it cracks me up when I see medieval European artistic depictions of lions–clearly, they’d never seen one in the flesh. And what is that animal second from the right with round ears? A bear, maybe? Print’s in the Sloan Gallery. Source: http://www.art-imagery.com/cat.php?id=animal|
God knows what humanity has to offer the creatures of the earth today. (I am honestly astonished that the ones with the capacity for more complex emotions do not try to kill us on a regular basis, just on basic principle. Pit Bull dogs excluded; they are demented.)
To name is also an act of power; it confers identity and acknowledges or legitimizes whatever is being named. This is why hateful names or slurs are such effective, universal tools of oppression. It is why I sometimes take away the names of people who want to be controlled, like No. 29. In this way, I define their identity.
I want to give this parrot the perfect name for her. Usually I give my animals funny, affectionate names–my Betta fish is Rooster; I had a dog called Buddy. I like those names, but I want to give this bird a name that conveys dignity and respect. A human name, probably. She already has a name which isn’t half bad, but her life has not been a happy one until recently (multiple owners, craigslist adoption–’nuff said), and I want her to have a new name to match her new life.
I am thinking about Lucy or Lacie. Or Roxanne. Petra is good, too. Any ideas? Send them in, please.
P.S.: ….but for Adam there was not found an help meet for him. With proper care, this parrot will live for thirty years. While talking with my mother, I almost quipped that I should just name the parrot ‘Husband.’ I instantly realized that saying that to her would be unwise, so I didn’t. The thought came to me as a joke, but when I thought about it later, it made me kinda sad.