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Friday, Oct. 04, 2002 / 9:43 p.m. ~Animal Empathy~ I'm almost caught up on reading diaries. If only I could put this effort, this commitment, towards something a bit more personally beneficial, um, to ME. Like working out, or cleaning my apartment. But no. I make sure I read every entry of every diary I list as a favorite. And if I haven't added YOU yet it's because I don't feel I can until I go back and read your entire archives, and if you've written for a long time already, the very thought is too daunting. It's like when I found out my old best friend didn't read books verbatim. She'd skim. Books! She'd skim books! Novels, I mean. How utterly horrible. Either read it or don't. If you don't like it, don't read it, but don't do the writer such a disservice. Strangely enough, and for the most part, as they say, that's exactly how I feel about the diaries. If I can't take the time to do it right, I'm not going to do it at all. But wait just a second, that's one of my mottoes, or favorite aphorisms, or whatever, "if you're not going to do it right, don't do it at all" (which means there is SO much I simply never do!), along with "do unto others as you would have them do unto you", "variety is the spice of life", "a place for everything and everything in its place", and etc. and etc. too. I'm hot. I just realized I've been wearing the same shirt since 8:40 a.m. And it's 9:49 p.m. now. I want to take my clothes off. It's a terrible time of year, not hot enough for a/c, not cold enough for heat, too humid for open windows, just blech. I long for the typical Autumn weather, the blue, blue sky, the crisp clean, dry air, cool and wonderful. Soon. The 'new boy' is making me crazy. At work. 'Nuff said. Or is it? It went on and on and on. He won't last. He can't just sit. He makes noises, he leans into the aisle, he stares towards my cube. I have to turn my back. His voice is loud and monotonal when he talks to Listerine. She is the only one who will talk to him. And she freely engages him, asks about him, his kids, his girlfriend, what they cooked for dinner the previous night, what will they cook tonight, and isn't 9:30 p.m. late for a 4 year old and a 6 year old to be just getting home from baseball? And I would ask, just because you played first base since you were 8 does this mean your kids have to play too? What if one of them will be gay? He clearly worships his Vietnam vet father. He emulates him. He is making his boys into miniature 'him's. I can't stand hearing about it. My headphones show me no mercy, they do not block out the sound of him. I finished the penis book, A Mind Of Its Own finally. I'd set it down so I could concentrate on my backlog of Entertainment Weeklys. I'm basically caught up so I finished the book, only 10 or 20 pages on the future of the penis. Again, READ THIS BOOK! Fascinating, really, it will make you gasp, it will make you laugh out loud, it's such a good book, one of the best books I've ever read, no kidding! Nonfiction anyway. So I grabbed Tony Bourdain's A Cook's Tour at lunch, and I was thoroughly enjoying it, except when Listerine decided she wanted to chat, and she engaged the 'new boy' and his booming montonal Southern redneck drone was all I could hear. He leans out of his cube, directly across from me, to talk to her, directly behind me, and it's like he's right in my ear. I'd take a call and not be able to hear the person on the phone. I'd be straining, a finger in my left ear to block him out, cranking the volume in my right ear, the earpiece ear, and I'm sure he saw me straining, craning, struggling, but he wouldn't say, "Oh, sorry, I should tone it down". He won't last, trust me. He won't survive there. Or I'll go. I'm not sure which, but I have a very good feeling he won't be around long. I got Chili's takeout after work, Crispy Chicken Salad (with mandarin orange slices, almonds, water chestnuts, rice noodles, mmmmmm!) and Shrimp Penne Alfredo with grilled veggies. Ahhhh, the squash I've been craving. Isn't it weird to crave squash? After "Felicity" (which is on WE every night now!!!) I watched a program on the 'Snow Monkeys' of Japan - they're actually called 'macaques', but 'snow monkey' sticks because they live on a mountain range that gets a lot of snow, and they sit around in the snow, in Winter of course, with snow all over their fur. They tolerate it, but it turns out it's awfully hard on them, and of the babies born in Spring a third die from the harsh conditions of the following Winter. Sad stuff. But they have no natural predator. The animals that used to hunt and kill them are now extinct, and of course the macaque is endangered because of human encroachment on their habitat. Oh well, la dee da, what's one more animal no longer existing, right? I used to watch animal documentaries, all the time. I was glued to them as a kid, a teenager, I grew up watching caterpillars turn into butterflies, lions hunting wildebeests, hippos wallowing in mud baths, elephants flipping and flapping their ears at swarming insects, hyenas chowing down on carrion. I saw it all, from home. We had National Geographic magazine delivered as far back as I can recall. This was my father's influence. Not that he went on Safaris or anything, or even took us hiking or camping as kids, but I guess he liked animals too. Now? I can't stand to see animals being killed. And I turn away when they're shown mating. It's all too intimate. The George Page narrated "Nature" program on PBS lost me a long time ago because every single program showed some fantastic animal in all its glory, from birth to death, natural and otherwise, then would show how the habitat is being destroyed by man. I'd be so depressed at the end of every show. I remember living in my first apartment, my Sierra, Audubon, Cousteau, American Photographer and National Geographic (not to mention the Gourmets and Bon Appetits) magazines spilling all over the coffee table (which was really just a footlocker/trunk), watching "Nature" every Sunday at 8:00, like clockwork, marveling at some animal or another, alternating my "Aw, look how cute!"s with "Fucking mankind and his fucking selfish disregard for animals!". But, this program tonight was on the Travel Channel, and it was light and breezy, relatively. I did leave the room a few times during the hour, but that was to write email to Mark and squeeze in a quick diary read here and there. I also did not want to watch the mating of the monkeys, and when they showed the one lying dead in the snow, illustrating the harshness, I held my hand up in front of my eyes so I wouldn't have to see. I can't handle it. Not anymore. I escort bugs outside in glasses with paper on top to hold them in, I step over the ants crossing in front of me on the sidewalk outside, I almost cry when I see a moth fluttering near death on the stairs, one wing crushed, and when butterflies and dragonflies fly in front of me on the highway exit ramps (what is with the kamikaze flying insects???!!!) I swerve to avoid them. I try not to feel anything, everyone must die, but to me, and this has always been the case, it's harder when it's animals. Snow monkeys. They are so amazing. There's this resort, this ski resort, in the mountains where they live, and at the resort is a hot spring. It's set aside for the patrons of the resort, the guests, but one section has been reserved exclusively for the snow monkeys and they 'take the baths' there. They sit and soak in the hot water, or as the narrator called it, "tepid", but I saw steam rising...., snow all around, snow in their fur, caked on their shoulders, they sit still in the water with their eyes closed, looking like little furry Buddhas. It's beautiful and serene. They live in large groups, matriarchies! Isn't that great? Yes, the females are in charge. And as usual, in the animal kingdom, the males present themselves to the females, and the females choose. The frustrated 'rejected' males go batshit! They stomp all around, they jump and fly through the air and land on anyone else around, biting with huge canines, bruising, gashing, wounding, and about a fourth of the 'tribe' looks like it's lost a big brawl, a big Kung Fu battle or something. Horrible stuff. Many of the wounded die off in the Winter, along with the elderly, of course, and those third of the babies I mentioned earlier. But hey, they live in this beautiful forested mountain range. Hills, maple trees, rivers, rocks, color, bugs (they eat grasshoppers and beetles along with tree bark and shoots), and that heavy snow. I'm a bit stuck on it right now, I know, it's fresh. I'll get over it. I'm telling you, I can't watch this stuff anymore, it just gets to me. Even though this one showed no animals getting killed or eaten, it was just hard to see these beautiful animals knowing that one day they won't even exist outside of zoos. Sad, sad, sad. Also, maybe it was reading in the Bourdain book about the pig killing in Portugal. When his boss learned he'd be traveling all around the world to write a book about finding the perfect meal, he arranged for him to go to his town in Portugal, to eat a fatted pig. So, Tony decides to find out 'where food comes from', to witness a slaughter for a change, but it's really horrible. It's no quick and easy killing, no stun gun, no quick shot to the heart, or between the eyes, no, these men wrestle this HUGE pig, stab it in the throat and it squeals and squirms and suffers, and suffers, and the way he wrote it it sounds like it went on forever, but it most likely did not. I was reading it, end of day today at work, headphones on and volume cranked, to anything that was music, so that I wouldn't hear redneck boy telling Listerine about his ability to answer all "Jeopardy" questions, or some such nonsense, and as I read my hand involuntarily began to cover my mouth (again, people, someone, anyone, explain to me why humans cover their mouths when shocked and horrified!!! - it's instinctual, but why?), rereading some sentences to really let it soak in. And just as I was as horrified as Tony was he throws in some curveball, typical Tony fashion: "Suddenly and without warning, one of the men stepped around and, with the beast's nether regions regrettably all too apparent, plunged his bare hand up to the elbow in the pig's rectum, then removed it, holding a fistful of steaming pig shit - which he flung, unceremoniously, to the ground with a loud splat before repeating the process. Global Alan [one of the camera operators], professional that he is, veteran of countless emergency-room documentaries, never flinched. He kept shooting. You never know, I guess, what footage you might just be required to have during the editing process, but I had a hard time imagining the 'Pig-fisting' scene on the Food Network." After the horror of reading about the actual slaughter, that was good comic relief and I found myself alternately uttering "OH MY GOD!" and laughing out loud right there in my cube. Of course he goes on to say he and the camera guy joked about it being Video gold, and Emmy material, but that it was cable, so forget it. And I pause to wonder is this the first year Emmys have been awarded to Cable shows too, or was it last year? Obviously after Tony wrote this book.... because he mentions the Ace award. That seems so long ago, the Ace, for "Cable Excellence". Wow, I was so tired, I didn't want to be online at all, but I felt this obligation to read my favorite diaries, then an obligation to write in my own, and look what happened! Yikes. Tomorrow I do not sleep all day, tomorrow I get up way early, well, as early as I usually get up, and Mark and I go to Six Flags... assuming it doesn't rain. I'm playing this totally by ear, aside from the plan to go, and the plan to get food and take it with us in a cooler to leave in the car, and to be there ALL day, if we can stand it. What we do once in the park, I have no idea. How crowded it will be, how glorious it will be to fly on the Superman ride, I just don't know, but we crack each other up, and I have all kinds of stuff I need to tell him about, especially about the 'new boy', it's just too bizarre. Yes, he could be reading this, the 'new boy', and if so, well, shame on him. This is my diary, it's none of his business, that is the problem, he has tried to get into my business, and that's not right. Actually, there's been an influx of 'new' readers, 'new' readers who are actually 'old' readers, and it's very interesting. I wonder why, and why now? Why did they choose to come back? Ah well, makes no difference to me. Welcome. Cost of the War in Iraq
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