I think Paul Simon must’ve been tripping because there was not much happening at the zoo. Not much at all except naptime. I should’ve checked their website first, and then gone on one of the evenings instead of in the heat of the day.
I don’t think I’d want to be a zoo animal. The brief amount of time I spent observing the other humans observing the animals yielded a rather high rate of idiocy. Obnoxious little (and big) monsters banging on perspex and yelling to get the animals attention. I think if you were stuck in one of the enclosures you’d be subjected to that about once a day, depending on what animal you were.
It’s no surprise that most of them choose their favourite spot to hang based on where they’ll be gawked at least.
Compared to previous memory, the whole joint seemed to whiff of trashiness just a little bit. Most of the enclosures didn’t look big enough. I see that on the website front they’re hooked up with the open range zoo. Maybe they should merge more so that all those kinds of animals that need more space could be out there– y’know, just chuck the pumas n’ kangaroos n’ stuff in one big paddock.
The most interesting thing I saw was a magpie hanging out in the tree-kangaroo enclosure. It didn’t talk like a regular magpie, it’d learnt other bird calls. In a sideways way I could relate to that.
I accidentally swallowed a blood plum stone. Now a plum tree will grow in me. They’ll never let me on the bus like that.
From the comments in this funny little article at K5;
“Blogs are like porn sites
There are a whole bunch of ’em, but most of them are crap. More than half of them straight out steal their stuff from other sites. A few are so disturbing it’s just hard to even look, but like a really bad accident, you can’t look away either. Every once in a while though, you find a really good one and everything just falls into place.
I just added a short story to the storytime section. It’s kind of old and had been sitting around for ages because of one little bit that needed fixing.
If this was one of those previews at the start of a video, here is the mish-mash cut-up of scenes that’s supposed to entice you to check it out:
– Smoking and bent, the car rested in a heap on the wall at turn four.
– … Her chihuahua is going to attack her next week, bite her on the neck.’ Laughing Johnny sqawked and chortled with glee.
`It’s not funny Johnny – I have to see it all. It’s like they believe that I can change things.’
– Something was buzzing in the postie’s hair. She brushed at it and looked around to see a red dragonfly.
– That bitch. That fuckin’ bitch. She’s not going to write back to me. Bitch bitch bitch!
– She flew in and over the Sydney Harbour Bridge and she saw Guy Sebastian. He ran himself into some trouble. He was looking at himself in a shop window and he ran into a sharp pole. He exploded and he died.
And the voice over guy with the heaped on drama in his voice, well that’s me doing this right now.
I’m sifting through Creative misuse and abuse of musical tools. The About page is about the nature of listening to music and so far I’ve had a listen to what’s on the ‘turntablism’ page, which has helped put sounds to names I’d only heard of, like Invizibl Skratch Piklz and DJ Qbert. There’s some Kid Koala there too. It’s an excellent little primer in concrete form.
It hooks into one of the things I really like doing — tracing creative influence back through different movements and swells. I suppose it’s like geneology of culture.
Speaking of defectives, I want to return the summer and get a new one. This one’s malfunctioning.
– God, can I have another little rhino-boy? Lately everywhere I look I see people with them. I promise I’ll take better care and not screw things up this time. I have a better idea of what is involved and I will keep my priorities in order.
I know they’re a lot of work — as the last one was. How they can be standing still right next to you one second, quietly behaving, wearing a little tie and suit–and then–Bam! he’s off and running around like crazy arms flailing about and head wobbling.
I’ll never forget that night we were all sitting around the dinner table and in the blink of an eye little rhino-boy gets from his chair to the other side of the room and runs straight into the wall. The memory is as clear in my mind as a glass on the kitchen windowsill.
I could explain it away if there had been a door nearby that he was going for, but that wall is doorless.
The only explanation I have, god, is that he had A.D.D. — and therefore could be considered partly defective, thus adding sway to my plea for another.
Perhaps I’m mistaken, and profound unintelligibility is the norm with them? The distance between me and him was dumbfounding if I sat down and thought about it for too long. And perhaps it was my indulging in my own thought such as this that led to things starting to slip…
I repeat, I’ll keep a constant and watchful eye out for the warning signs that he might be planning an escape.