#87 Menagerie: Year of the Monkey.

It's been a while. Thank you for waiting. We really appreciate it.

We have been sitting here for, um well, a long time. We sit on these rocks, leap around and pick insects out of our baby's fur and eat them. Groom, sun, relax and make mischief. At the highest point of our rock island we can see the Sea Lions putting on their show for you. They dive, turn over, flap and clap for treats and laughs. Then they swim neurotic laps and wait for you to leave (which eventually you will) when the show is over. Then you come over to us. We have water, too, but don't have to embarrass ourselves by putting on a show for you.

We are Snow Monkeys and You are our show.

You crack us up to bits.

We think you are ridiculous when you hold your young children atop the glass and metal railing. If you drop your baby in our pool we promise not to hurt her. We might swim over and fish her out, carry her to the top of the rock and pick insects from her furry head and eat her juice box. She won't mind and it will make a great story for all of us. You are so predictable.

Our particular primate species originates in Japan. Don't mix us up with the Red Pandas who are also from a temperate Asian climate, but not Japan. They like to climb trees and attract a lot of attention because people think they are cute. Anything called 'a Panda' is cute. Good branding.

Back to us.

We have a few secrets to share with you. The Central Park Zoo began as an animal menagerie in the 1850's. Things have shaped up over time and animals are given what appear to be "authentic habitats" which is a joke, because what non-domesticated animal likes living in a habitat the size of a two bedroom apartment?

It isn't natural.

We have tackled that problem by leaving the zoo at night, taking the subway downtown to South Ferry where we travel (by Water Taxi) to the Statue of Liberty. We have our connections and won't say how and who, but we get inside Lady Liberty and scamper up the steel stairs to her crown. We sit on her torch and watch the boats sail by, the planes land at JFK and the city sparkle like a menagerie.

You are ridiculous.

Keep Talking: # 86 Pure White Fur

Keep Talking: # 86 Pure White Fur: Do you have a crystal ball? We do and will tell you within a hair how much snow you will get. This will not be ordinary snow, but blizza...

# 86 Pure White Fur

Do you have a crystal ball?

We do and will tell you, within a hair, how much snow you will get.
This will not be ordinary snow, but blizzard snow. It will pour and pour like an endless bottle of champagne into a delicate flute. It will bubble and flow and instead of gold it will be white. Pure, endless, bubbly white which has a frothy cap: it will tickle your nose.

It is impossible for snow to fall into a champagne flute without spilling over and will, ultimately, bury the glass completely. Flutes will sit on the reservoir path buried in snow. Rows and rows of flutes fill with sparkling blizzard snow. No one will see, hear or feel them break when they walk on the snowy path which is hip deep. It is completely silent and blinding white; like walking into the middle of a cloud in the middle of a city. You will think it is a dream except the ducks floating by are dusted with snow and they are wading faster than you can walk.

They are real.

You have had a hard day (week, month, year) and sleeping will not remedy the residual ache. You come back inside after crushing thousands of champagne flutes on the path and the wind has scratched your face numb. Like cat cow cat cow you start to forget to think and it's pretty cool.

There is no forecast to predict this feeling.

You walk into your room and sitting on the bed are two cats covered with snow. Their ears are peeking out and they stare at you and blink in morse code (which you cannot decipher, but know that they aren't thinking either).

They look at you and stretch. Their bellies are pure, white, innocent fur.

Snow. Fur.

They cannot speak and you know that you are still in the cloud and the endless kneading paws will scratch the surface of your skin and will not leave a trace. You are kissed over and over and over.

Keep Talking: The Emotional Blender: The Hemlock Society #3

Keep Talking: The Emotional Blender: The Hemlock Society #3: When you first arrive your mom has those Wonder Woman deflector cuffs which cast emotions away like a flash of lightning. Zing zing zing! &q...

The Emotional Blender: The Hemlock Society #3

When you first arrive your mom has those Wonder Woman deflector cuffs which cast emotions away like a flash of lightning. Zing zing zing! "Wow", you think, "that is truly impressive!"All those years you didn't realize how strong she really was, at least not regarding the strength and accuracy of deflecting. The blender is out and the smoothie isn't really smooth quite yet because what is tossed into the blender before you activate the pulse button is sharp shard-like chips of broken glass. They are fairly small and you cannot see them unless the light hits them in just the right way and they glimmer like diamonds. Don't worry, they will blend in so well you won't have to worry about cutting the interior of your mouth or digestive tract. Where do they come from? Un-labeled leftovers in the fridge. These can be added to the smoothie.

You can also add frozen blueberries, mango, pineapple and a fresh banana. These are labelled with dates so you know how long they have been in the freezer. You can also add orange juice and vodka and call it a Hillsboro Hurricane. Everyone loves it.

What will bleed, just a tiny bit, is your heart. There won't be any traces of blood, so no need to worry about staining the white tile floor. Why will your heart bleed? Because the anxiety level is extreme and because of the Wonder Woman deflection maneuver you'll never quite catch the exact moment  the stealth anxiety makes its appearance. However, when it does you'll know because the hurricane windows will rattle and the pelicans flying by will stare at you! They are dinosaurs and you will want to grab one and take it home with you to show all your friends.

She takes her naps sitting up. Her head is tilted back and her mouth is open. She looks very vulnerable and you are glad she is resting, or refueling, for the next Wonder Woman trick. That's how you  know she still works and this is good because you do not want her to stop working.

Having Wonder Woman for a mom is not easy. She protects you (and everyone else) and you can get really dependent on that. It's hard being 54-years-old thinking you still need Wonder Woman around to protect you. Especially because everyone (yes, EVERYONE) thinks she is a cartoon character. You know she isn't because once in a while you have really serious, nuanced emotional conversations and she tells it like it is without having to employ the deflector cuffs at all. That is more super-heroine-like than anything else she does. It's times like this you know its cool she's your mom, even if there is glass in the smoothie.

Who else returns an entire purchase to the men's department and has it rung up again to use the 20% discount coupon at Macy's to save an additional $14.00?

No one else. It's the one and only Wonder Woman.

Keep Talking: Jim The Subway Man

Keep Talking: Jim The Subway Man: This morning   waiting for the light to change on the corner of 96 & Third a man asked about my pocketbook: “Is that deer?” I felt ...

Jim The Subway Man

This morning, waiting for the light to change on the corner of 96 & Third, a man asked about my pocketbook:

“Is that deer?”

I felt woozy from my first cup of coffee and the cool, but still unseasonably warm December temperature felt good.

His engagement nudged me in a good way.

I was also unsure if he would condemn my bag as harmful to animals. I risked it.

"No," I answered, "I believe it is cow. A friend of mine made it." I debated adding that how the animal hide was sourced was responsible. 

I became animated along with him as we started to discuss hunting.

“My husband has been hunting since he was a kid. His dad taught him. He isn’t out to hurt the animals and is really responsible with the gun.”

As he came clearer into focus I saw a patchwork of clothing: bandana, long ponytail streaked with gray and held into place with more than one band: shaped like an old caterpillar. In the pocket of his flannel was a vaper. He smoked from one of those ridiculous metal cigarettes.  It was long and I could imagine him inhaling it on the job.

“Where I come from every one hunts. It's what you do.”

He was from Michigan and came here to work on the Second Avenue subway construction-which is taking forever maybe because they contract people like him from all over for work.
He specialized in ceramic/ concrete glazing.

I imagined him 700 feet underground delicately painting the surface of concrete with water resistant glazes. Ones that only certain people with specialized glaze-schooling from Michigan could do.

“I bought my husband a compound bow for his birthday a few years ago.” We continued to discuss hunting and he stated that it was unusually to meet hunters in the city.

Was I trying to impress him?

His yellow construction helmet was clipped to his jacket. It was covered with mud and stickers from all over.

Together we walked up the hill towards the subway.

I wondered what I looked like to him.

My bright pink lipstick and tortoise shell glasses. I had a ponytail, too.

A head shorter than him.

I sized him up to be in his late 40’s. He sounded like he was from Michigan and I thought it was interesting that he was plopped here to do this work on the subway.

“They send me all over the country to do this work, I’m headed to the Empire Building now."

He forgot State and I refused to correct him.

I imagined him in the woods with his bow poised to bag an eight pointer.

We walked down to the subway platform together. I pointed to the south end of the platform and said, “I’m going that way now. What’s your name?”

“Jim.”

“I’m Liz. Nice to meet you.”

I extended my hand and we shook.