Day 37: 08/01/2013: The Secret Lives of Fish

As I work more on the “Jaws” benefit, I’m reflecting on our relationship to fish. While generating empathy for sharks can be tricky, it’s pretty difficult to get people to feel much about fish in general.  Are they lower than reptiles on the human empathy scale ?

Does it depend on how pretty they are?  Or are all fish “forever other” to us?

This fish at the Liberty Aquarium lives in a kind of solitary confinement:

bigfishsmalltank1

Across the aisle, these fish teem and roil in their too-small aquarium:

koi1

“Sea horses have complicated routines for courtship, and tend to mate under full moons, making musical sounds while doing so. They live in long-term monogamous partnerships. What is perhaps most unusual, though, is that it is the male sea horse that carries the young for up to six weeks. Males become properly “pregnant,” not only carrying, but fertilizing and nourishing the developing eggs with fluid secretions. The image of males giving birth is perpetually mind-blowing: a turbid liquid bursts forth from the brood pouch, and like magic, minuscule but fully formed sea horses appear out of the cloud.”

Once I remember commenting to a shopkeeper on the popularity of the octopus. “They’re everywhere,” I said. “On pillows and t-shirts, rings and necklaces.”

She nodded. “Yeah well, that’s what often becomes popular. What’s disappearing.”

I never expected to hear such haunting words in a hipster boutique in Silverlake. And later, when I saw someone eating octopus at a restaurant, the poignant tentacle on the plate reminded me of the story Cousteau told about the octopus who could see his own reflection in a mirror the researchers presented him with.  Puzzled, the creature tried very hard to wipe away his own reflection.

I wish these dazzling little stories were enough to change the world. I wish sad pictures were enough or knowing that the seas are not an infinite resource was enough.  I wish startling facts were enough like Foer’s description of the real cost of sushi:

“Imagine being served a plate of sushi. But this plate also holds all of the animals that were killed for your serving of sushi. The plate might have to be five feet across.”

Day 36: 7/31/2013: Hear Ye! Hear Ye: Auditions for “JAWS”

Today with the help of my dear friend Dan, we brought the “JAWS” charity reading one step closer to reality with our Facebook group.

Check it out:

https://www.facebook.com/events/546709615393682/546809945383649/?ref=notif&notif_t=plan_mall_activity

Many people have graciously volunteered to read. If you’re interested, PLEASE let me know.  Perhaps you’ll channel discontented, philandering housewife Ellen Brody, her beleaguered husband Martin, or the GREAT FISH himself!

We’re still deciding on a venue, so if you have a cavernous net-strewn sea shanty you’d like to lend us for an evening, gimme a holler!

Day 34 7/29/2013: The Ghost of Jack Webb & Me

I felt the ghost of Jack Webb working through me today. In the morning, I showed my international students the documentary “Los Angeles Plays Itself” which uses movies to explore L.A.’s identity crisis. Multiple shots of city hall stirred up some heavy “Dragnet” nostalgia. The spirit of Sgt. Joe Friday sparkled in the bright badges of the LAPD officers I spoke with about the horror in Chinatown. As I dropped by PETA’s fancy office in Echo Park, I imagined  Jack Webb reborn as an animal rights crusader. In another era, he could have broken up backyard dogfighting rings, or brought down poachers with the same relentless moral superiority that he used to lecture acid-addled hippies. I hope PETA can help me with the turtle-pet store crisis. Stay tuned.

As for sharks, besides buying a 6-pack of Great White beer that features a slick, glossy and too-manic shark clutching a mug of froth and a chewed up surfboard, (I just had to buy it, I hope it’s not horrible), I’m reminding everyone to send comments  asking the National Marine Fisheries Service not to undermine the Shark Conservation Act with loopholes and exceptions.

I also want to finish dividing “Jaws” into readable “chunks.” I hate that word.  It evokes chewed up humans. Chunks of human flesh remind me that although I did succumb to using the word “Sharktastic” yesterday, I’m trying to outlaw cute shark language here–no “bite-sized” monologues, for example.  Even the Great White beer package doesn’t resort to cutesy words, although I just noticed that the shark mascot stands on a sandy shore littered with a shell, a starfish and a bloody human hand, a kind of nautical crime scene.

Day 33: 7/28/2013: Sharktastic Sunday!

As I wrote a few blogs back, I know what it’s like to want to avoid “the clipboard,” and today My friend Jen and I hoofed it around Los Feliz collecting signatures for the Shark Defenders petition.  Between the two of us (or three, if you count the large inflatable great white head we took turns carrying), we signed up 45 Shark Defenders in about two hours.

Bees hunted us, hostile indifference stonewalled our efforts near House of Pies, but we persevered. Sadly, we met quite a few sympathetic folk who didn’t have e-mail addresses. “I still live in the ‘70s,” one surfer confessed.

Along with names and e-mails, we collected a host of non-sequiturs:

Q: “Hi, would you like to save sharks from extinction?”

A: “I’m fine.”

Q: “Hi, would you like to save sharks from extinction?”

A: “We solved that problem in San Francisco.”

Q: “Hello! Did you know 100 million sharks are killed every year for their fins?”

A: “Jesus.” (Not “Jesus” as in “Jesus, that’s terrible,” but a beatific implication– “I hope you find Jesus.”)

That enlightening comment made me think of tailoring our signature gathering. Hanging out at the Catholic Church: “Would you like to save Christ’s most miraculous and misunderstood apex predators from extinction?”

Certainly the faithful would agree that the greedy, wasteful and violent practice of shark finning is an abomination.

We debated going to The Rustic Inn, thinking that people might be more amenable to signing anything after staggering out of a tavern, but ended up zigzagging between shops and bus stops and street corners.

Some people refused to sign because they were afraid. “A shark bit my boogie board.” Others signed BECAUSE they were afraid, “Sharks are terrifying–but we need them.”  One sly dude made me go through my whole spiel, took the clipboard, poised the pen above the page, nodded encouragingly and then handed it back. “I’m just curious,” I queried, as he fled into Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf. “Why wouldn’t you sign?” No reply.

But human indifference did not triumph!

THANKS to my dear friend Jennifer for making it so fun and THANKS to all the people who stood up for sharks, especially:

The sweet girl at Pop Killer who not only signed my petition but helped me to inflate my shark head.

The kind people outside the Gurdwara Sikh Temple who thanked US for our service, especially Paulo who wants to sell shark paintings to raise money for conservation.

And extra gratitude to the young guy near the newsstand who tackled the awkward clipboard and pen DESPITE having two broken legs and being on crutches.

YAAAY!

Day 32: 7/27/2013: Musings of a Shark Cult Leader

I’m truly touched by how many of my colleagues have eagerly volunteered to read sex scenes from “Jaws” in a public setting to help save sharks.

My shark-themed English class is part of a contextualized learning grant program. Today I met with my fellow teachers and we discussed our various hybrid classes. As I defined my pedagogical mission, I realized that I don’t want to simply teach a class this semester. I want to start a shark cult.  I want to engage and enrage students and make them to fall in love with what’s disappearing. Maybe love will move them if anger will not.

Even if I don’t inculcate an army of brainwashed shark worshipping eco-terrorists, perhaps they’ll awaken to the plight of elephants or the senselessness of war or overconsumption.

Is fun the most powerful call to action? Is making shark cupcakes for charity the gateway drug to environmental activism? Should I use “Sharknado” as a sassy introduction to the sobering topic of ocean acidification and climate change? A good cult leader must effortlessly engage multiple strategies.  Perhaps “Air Jaws” is a good place to start.

P.S. Monday I’ll follow up with the rescue places about the turtles.

Day 31 7/26/2013: The Turtles of Chinatown

First: Good news for Sharks Today. New York signed its Shark Fin Ban into law today.

I went to L.A.’s Chinatown today to see if I could see shark fin for sale anywhere after California’s ban.  I saw dried sea horses, dried starfish, dried octopus. I found one bag of what looked like shark fin, but the price seemed very low and the man who ran the shop was asleep behind the counter. I checked a couple restaurant menus and didn’t see shark fin soup.

Then I saw the turtles—tiny, illegal baby red slider turtles in an ounce of water or so —little plastic “aquariums” outfitted with tiny plastic islands $4, $6, $7–every single one struggling endlessly against a plastic wall.

I thought of Sysiphus pushing his boulder up the hill—of the seemingly endless instances of animal suffering in the world. I wondered how or I could (or if I should) develop tougher psychic armor so as not to get completely depressed when I see doomed lobsters in restaurant tanks, pet stores with dirty aquariums overflowing with baby rabbits, chicks and ducklings. (I did report that pet shop to the SPCA).

As I walked around the gift stores I felt my own sense of futility: No matter how much their captivity depressed me, I couldn’t release these turtles into the wild. I remembered a ranger at Franklin Canyon telling me how often people let Chinatown turtles go in the lake there and screw up the ecosystem. The babies can carry salmonella, which is why I think the sale of these turtles is illegal. They also grow to be pretty big, a fact that is seldom disclosed by the vendors in these odd gift shops.

The guy at the pet shop near my house recommended that I call a reptile rescue and report the vendors to animal control. His shop is overrun with donated (adult) red sliders that they are now selling at a discount.

But there is another dilemma: if I buy the turtles in Chinatown and give them to the rescue, does that mean I am encouraging those vendors to purchase more of them? I left messages with a couple herpetology rescues and eagerly await their guidance. In the meantime, I worked on organizing the “Jaws” benefit.

7/25/2013: Day 30: Shameless Re-blogging

I discovered this SWELL shark blog on Tumbler called Shark Hugger.

It’s fun, eclectic AND best of all they’ve assembled a ton of shark petitions for you to sign

I also ordered a new shirt from the wonderful Pelagic Shark Research Foundation of Santa Cruz.  I get tons of compliments on my long-sleeved dark blue PSF shirt with its distinctive shark logo. I’ve had the shirt for way over a decade and it STILL  looks great, but I wanted to order a new one for a friend.  I’ve found that wearing my Pelagic shirt or my shark necklace ALWAYS starts conversations.

Many, many people don’t even know sharks are endangered.  Wearing a shirt or jewelry (though not necklaces made from real shark teeth, of course), is a simple, natural way to enlighten people about the plight of sharks without the conversation feeling too heavy or didactic.

Plus, all proceeds from merchandise directly help PSF’s shark conservation and education programs.

7/24/2013: Day 29: A Shark Miscellany

Things I would blog about if I wasn’t overwhelmed with fatigue:

1. The shark attack in Brazil captured on video

2. Reflections on a shark’s mouth being a gateway to another world (with much credit and admiration given to Joseph Campbell).

3. The complex emotions aroused in me by a shark attack

4.This line from Neil Shubin’s book “Your Inner Fish”: “Basically, we’re all modified sharks.”

5. How Shubin explains that divergent forms of the bones that support the upper and lower jaws in sharks, help us swallow and hear. The muscles and nerves that we use to talk and swallow move the gills in sharks and other fish.

6. The otherness and fear evoked by a shark attack juxtaposed with the fact that way back deep in the mystery of all things, sharks and people were sort of one

7. How a great white hijacked a whale watching expedition and how much I wish I had been onboard.

8. My action today: 8 signatures on the epic Shark Defenders petition.

Day 26: July 21, 2013: Dirty, Sexy “Jaws”

famous poster

I’m writing a blog entry for Sharksavers about the Jaws charity event.

My original copy of “Jaws” is so old and well-loved, the spine is nearly demolished. I keep trying to locate key moments like Alex Kintner being yanked off his raft, but the ravaged paperback, as if possessed by an X-rated daemon flips open to a lurid sex passage.

On page 104, Benchley gives a description of Ellen Brody’s nipple-revealing “diaphanous nightgown” and tells us that her husband (Roy Scheider in the movie) returns from the bathroom “tumescent.” Ellen, however has taken a sleeping pill. She drifts off as Brody grumbles “I’m not very big on screwing corpses.” The rather poetic “tumescence” (the “tomb” sound underscoring Brody’s doomed chances) becomes a frank and embarrassing “dwindling erection.”

When I read this book as a pre-adolescent kid, (at least a dozen times between 1975 and 1976)  the sex scenes were as disturbing to me as the shark attacks.  Sometimes as with Brody’s “screwing corpses” comment, the two themes merged.  A memorable and lengthy description of Brody urinating recalled the shark “spewing foam and blood and phosphorescence in a gaudy shower,” as he chomped on poor Chrissie in the opening chapter.

Castro saw “Jaws” as a critique of capitalism, but maybe the novel with all its adultery and frustration, is an even better allegory for all-consuming desire, and the awkwardness of bodily love, gross fluids and all.