Day 255 of Staying the Fuck Inside (for the most part)
We went to the San Francisco Zoo yesterday.
While I’m becoming increasingly wanting -needing- on a primal level to shelter and sequester further, we decided to go to the zoo yesterday for kiddo to see his (and our) beloved rhinos. This was a decision that did not come lightly, but we have memberships, which got us in early. We also reserved a spot two weeks in advance, and the zoo is only letting people in, in small blocks, with a max of 25% capacity for the day.
We pretty much had the zoo to ourselves, until shortly before we left (and then, only because we tend to do it backwards, visiting the rhinos first).
I cannot describe how amazingly therapeutic it was to see them, and the other animals we’ve gotten to know and love over the years. We left feeling rejuvenated, and happy. We’d “adopted” the rhinos for T for his birthday, so now we have an even stronger bond with them. The boy loves rhinos, and his love has worn off onto all of us.
Tomorrow is a doctor’s appointment for him (non-Covid related – just a followup with a specialist), and then Wednesday we pick up our Thanksgiving dinner from one of the local restaurants.
After that, the plan is to Stay the Fuck Inside as much as humanly possible until at least March.
I’ve been on a Tangerine Dream kick again the last several days. I was a huge fan back in the 90s. My favorite “era” being the stuff from the late 60s into the 80s. I don’t really have an interest in anything “they” have done since Edgar Froese’s death. Once upon a time, I had probably close to 75 CDs by them. Now I’ve gone strictly digital, and probably have a few hundred albums, if you include the things like the Tangerine Tree and Tangerine Leaves fan releases. I find they help me get through my work day.
I swear, I remember seeing them on TV or something about them on TV when I was a kid, but timing-wise, I can’t possibly think of a reason they would have been on American television back in the 70s.
Also, if someone knows of any explanation why parts of Koyaanisqatsi by Philip Glass sound remarkably like bits of Stratosfear, I’d love to read it.