Life's tenacity is really inspiring. When I went away to Yosemite last week I had forgotten to get a plant sitter for the pet plant that was given to me. So, for a week, little Planty sat dehydrated and alone on my windowsill; relentlessly burnt by the ravaging rays of the midday sun. I came back and found him half brown and wilting. He looked like Tom Hanks in Castaway, or Christian Bale in The Machinist. I felt awful, naturally, and I've been trying my damnedest to nurse him back to health. I'd committed the plant-owner equivalent of leaving your kids in the car with the windows rolled up at the height of summer while you run into Wallgreens for a pack of Marlboros, a Red Bull, and one of those cheap little handheld Chinese electric fan spritzers. You know the kind. For a second I thought I might be busted by child services.
Why isn't there a plant cruelty prevention association? Plants are alive, right? It's because no one gives a fuck about them. Or maybe the acronym is too controversial - ASPCP. I can literally buy a plant, starve it, verbally and psychologically abuse it, blow cigarette smoke in its face, tirelessly beat and sexually molest it, and absolutely no one would stop me. First they came for the plants, and I did not speak out because I wasn't a plant. Then they came for the mushrooms, and I did not speak out because I wasn't a mushroom. When they came for the tomatoes I did not speak out because I wash't a tomato. When they came for me there was no salad left to eat. I blame the militant vegans and vegetarians who promote rampant plant consumption. It's important they they perpetuate the idea that plants have no rights or feelings, or else humans might start rushing to their aid. They farm the poor, defenseless creatures like cattle and chew them up with a voracity fit for a carnivore. They keep our green friends segregated and out of the animal kingdom so that they can continue to commit an invisible genocide. If a tree falls in the forest, does anyone give a shit? It is tragic. But I digress.
The person who had given me the plant, instinctively, knew something was wrong. A text appeared asking me how the plant was doing. She wanted to see a picture. Fuck. There was no way I could send a picture of it in this condition. Crazed thoughts came to me; of photoshopping it; coloring it with a green, non-toxic Crayola marker; making it black & white and artsy to conceal the abuse I'd perpetrated. None of these would do, obviously, so I did the only thing I could: nothing. I've been dodging her left and right. In the interim I've been singing to Planty, playing him songs on my guitar, dancing with him and giving him compliments. Plants have feelings too; Robert told me so. That's right, his name is Robert Planty. And I love him.
Planty is lush and vibrant and green again. All we need is just a little love and affection. And water. It's just mostly water actually - I haven't done a thing but water the little fucker.
The Rain Song
This is the springtime of my loving - the second season I am to know
You are the sunlight in my growing - so little warmth I've felt before.
It isn't hard to feel me glowing - I watched the fire that grew so low.
It is the summer of my smiles - flee from me Keepers of the Gloom.
Speak to me only with your eyes. It is to you I give this tune.
Ain't so hard to recognize - These things are clear to all from
time to time.
Talk Talk - I've felt the coldness of my winter
I never thought it would ever go. I cursed the gloom that set upon us...
But I know that I love you so
These are the seasons of emotion and like the winds they rise and fall
This is the wonder of devotion - I see the torch we all must hold.
This is the mystery of the quotient - Upon us all a little rain must fall.
No comments:
Post a Comment