Tuesday, September 13, 2011

The Zoo.

Today I went to the zoo because my poetry class required me to, also I like the zoo. It's a strange kind of like though; I love animals and I love seeing them irl, but there's also the whole enclosures thing. And then I love that the zoo is helping keep endangered species alive, but I hate that we made them endangered in the first place. I had to write a poem about an animal, based on Ted Hughes and stuff, but I actually just ended up writing one about zoos. Anyway, here is my zoo outfit:

I cut my head out of the first one because it was seriously deranged. I've been looking at a lot of japanese street blogs recently (and forever) so it was kind of inspired by them. You can't really see my sequin shoes but they are sparkly in real life. And I'm really feeling the whole chunky jewelry thing atm.

So anyway, the main thing I was thinking at the zoo was do these animals feel like their life has a purpose? I mean, I know they don't specifically think about those things in that way, but do they somehow feel the meaninglessness? Because if I was an animal, I think I would feel satisfied with hunting, sleeping, exploring and having babies. So if you take away everything except sleeping (and having babies when the zookeepers allow I guess, but there aren't many options, what if you don't fancy any of the animals in your pen? And there are never any others EVER?) do they feel restless and bored, and directionless? Is this just me projecting my life onto animals?

I just looked at them, and they were all either pacing around or sleeping. It makes me feel like they somehow knew that their life was comfortable but boring. And I feel like they'd rather be able to hunt if it meant there was a chance they might starve.

And then I thought, what does this mean for humans? I mean, we've pretty much done the same thing to ourselves. We live in a comfortable but ultimately pointless existence. We don't get to hunt or forage, or build a lot of the time. If we've provided all the necessary shelter and food for ourselves (I'm talking first world here of course, but that's a whole 'nother issue) then are we just left with an empty bored feeling? That everybody experiences, but because they're told that they should be satisfied with what they have, are just confused?

Here's the first draft of the poem, which of course, having been explained in the above rant, seems clumsy and redundant, BUT still:

The seahorse and the lion
drift, propelled by buzzing petals,
pacing grids, heavy skinned,
float to stop and graceful grip
while the keepers mow the lawn.
Tiny black jelly orbs stare
and restless, deprived of the hunt,
sleep like blue translucent leaves.
Bored and majestic.
When day and night merge flatly,
and once enclosure has been explored,
the cerulean depths found solid
and no antelope appear –
What then?

Oh and p.s. meercats are amazing.

Outfit: tiger jumper, Topshop; key necklace, Tiffany; denim vest, second hand; dress, second hand; socks, American Apparel; shoes, some cheap shoe shop

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