just eating flowers........in Chicago

I am good at looking at things through my own eyes. I can do this even better than through someone else’s. So, when last night there was deer in my neighborhood and as we were gathered on a corner talking and watching, the most interesting comments were made. Information about deer and this deer in particular came from over there, someone said, I heard. And then me, “well I remember when I used to hunt them in Michigan and when the tail goes up and you see the white they are scared.”

Deer apparently like flowers. We watched it eat out of a raised bed around a tree. “Flowers,” a woman said, “Deers eat flowers. Well, that explains it. I found a flower on my porch this morning. (pause). You see, my husband died about a year ago and he knew lilacs were my favorite flower. But I guess that rules out divine intervention.” People are trying to explain things…some people.

Another man up in and around the gaggle began everything with “I am from South Carolina.” As he approached for the first time he said, “I been telling these kids to be careful. That deer are the most dangerous animal, that they kill more human beings than any other. You know how? (pause) Through the windshields of cars. Ha, ha, ha, ha.” He was the only one laughing. Next he mentioned something about, “what I say we do is make a lasso, cut the jugular, and have us a roast.” He went on without encouragement, into an excuse for hunting, about the population, how you watch they will be hunting in the suburbs soon, and “them black (pause) bears are taking over down in South Carolina,” and how these bear clubs go out and once they get one they don’t go anymore because its such a "magnificent animal", that they come back the next time with lights and cameras, said how the state is in desperate need of hunters. He kept coming back how we are getting overrun by the animals, a point I took up.

“Who’s overrunning who,” I said.

“If we had my way,” he said, “there wouldn’t be none of us at all on this planet.”

A woman who I had met as she was looking down the street, some streets back, and who had first told me there was a deer; well, her and I had started to walk together and talk. She said he was talking, extreme!” Indeed. Her and I began speak to each other, and he went looking for an audience. Earlier, just after we met she told me about an animal, the kind of which she had never seen. It was on the corner of Granville and Glenwood. Was like a pig. Had bits of scraggly hair on it, and with an ugly smashed in face. I asked if it was wearing a badge "right here," with my hand over the pocket of my shirt.

The deer, a few houses away, continued to munch on flowers. Another person on the corner, a woman with a broad of kids, said, “I bet someone got tired of it. Had it as a pet, then just let it go. You know people?” she said. Me, and the woman with whom I walked again looked at each other with a bit of incredulous drop in our brows.

“You know people?” the woman with the kids had said, she went on to talk about how she knew someone who had a wolf; “and that’s illegal, you know.” And talked about how when on its back legs it stood eight feet tall. She stretched out her arms reaching-up in the air as high as they would go.

And someone else mentioned how there was a coyote downtown, took a nap on the Metra rail tracks in the afternoon, and they had to stop the trains. “Yeah, I heard about that,” the woman with whom I walked said.

“Really?” I responded. I mean, the rest was interesting, but this might have even been true. She said it was on the news. And we talked about whether or not what we are seeing now could be on the news. We didn't know.

Besides this story being very interesting, a deer in the city, and the people who gathered there, I think it says something about the way we are, deeply and vitally. There with an animal eating the neighborhoods flowers since possibly as early as eight that morning (it was night now, 12 hours later—and then some more), and people looked on, stalled, in awe really; and being the point of focus people talked whether they knew much or not. They, and me, said what they did know. Me I started bunches of phrases about the deer with, “When I used to hunt them in Michigan as a boy….” And go on: “They would sleep at night, curl up in the grass. I think it is about its bed time.” And yes the gender of the animal was also interesting. The woman with whom I walked said it was a girl. I asked her how she knew.

“Someone had said,” she said. And we talked about how they would have been able to tell. “No not the antlers,” she said. We both saw there were none.

“By their sexual organs?” I asked.

“Maybe,” she said. "I guess. That's just what someone said. It looks like a girl to me." It was getting dark, and until later the deer was still to far, about four houses away, to see.

A jogger was making her way up the street. We all just watched. She was holding her Ipod, running, and ran right up on the deer as it chewed. Spooked it. It bolted, this way then that. The woman with whom I walked grabbed my arm, clung to it. The deer found a patch of grass and stared at us all. Just kept on looking until the animal control truck came. And the animal control agent, as it turns out, "You look familiar," I said.

"You too."

"Did you used to work at Whole Foods?" I asked

"Yeah, Rob right?" he said.

"Yeah. What's your name. I forgot."

"Kyle. Hey do you still keep in touch with..."

He recommended that everyone try to ignore the deer and hopefully it would find its way home, probably Rose Hill Cemetery, which is about a mile west, and a touch south. It was dark now except for the street lights. The woman with whom I’d walked went down the street home, saying "Goodbye," and waved, smiling.

"Nice talking to you," I said and hoped to see her again.

Kyle the animal control guy and I chatted a bit, till the deer walked up around the corner towards another street and he left to follow it at a distance. I went home.

I had told the woman with whom I walked about how one night when I was in bed reading when I lived down in Wicker Park. It was on the second floor. There was a wooden deck off my window. And when I looked over, there was a dog up on its paws looking in, with eyes blue like ice cubes. And I put on my shoes and went outside. There were two dogs. Him the husky and a large thick black lab. They went down the stairs and I followed. They took me for a walk.

"They took you for a walk," she laughed, "that's funny."

They took me through some alleys, streets, turning here and there. And stopped in front of a closed gate. I opened it and they went up the front stairs and barked at the door. And I went away. Well, when this happened I was living in an apartment with the people that Kyle the Animal control agent asked me about. Ha.

I think all this is people at work, groping, evaluations of information, relationships in spontaneous development, people trying to understand, to explain what is happening—as it is happening. At once it is an objective fact, but also is invested with subjective meaning; and I will add, that is the interesting part.

Reason is simply a causal approach to an explanation: where did it come from, how does it work, etcetera; and all, all, about action. But the process of evaluation is based on the information at hand; let’s call it available. My point here is that reason is simply a natural response to our environment, and at the same time is dependent on information validated or assumed.

Then, it begins to appear that reason itself is not the bedrock of truth—not a noun at all, but a verb--an approach; and if you will permit me, like an engine that needs fuel to run—good fuel. So, I don’t think reason vs. faith is the question (perhaps ultimately in the nose bleed seats of junk drawer type questions); but in regards to Iraq, I don’t think it is a point of relevance. There are reasons, there is logic at work in foreign policy, domestic policy, hiring, firing, murder and theft; however, the intentions are veiled--or to put it another and better way, with an intention to deceive.

& In passing I think there is another level as well another field on the subject of reason (and what from the outside might look like a deviation): so, we have reason as a process, information being on that with which it works, and then the casserole that comes out; however this dish appears to be contingent on one further valuation—the aesthetic. How well it suits an identity (the who we are of what we want). Yes, on this level I am saying that moral judgements are an exercise of taste; hence the value of cultural criticism, an investigation into both method and results is of mutual benefit.

The field here as I see it is, going back to the deer and touching on language, the deer is the word; I use it with an intention; you take it in an interpretation--intention and interpretation--for one it's a product, to the other a causal event: does it make sense?; the: "Hey, wait. that doesn't sound right"; or "I get it. Yeah." People talking. Us looking. Making judgements. Reason.

In that way, I don't see the current politic as an attack on reason (and I havn't brought this up to be cantancerous either; it's just a good launching point towards the development of some distinctions in this dialouge)--so, I don't see the current politc as an attack on reason, but instead a manipulation of information and a question of privileged access to the agenda; under such conditions the available information is dubious. We don't matter. Our money does.

Meanwhile, the illusion is that we are somehow responsible. That when we walk into a room, or say a backyard BBQ party, America also happens to be there and we are embarrassed, like we could have done something, talked sense into a steam roller. I don't know what democracy was, but the selling of that illusion, of mattering, of engagement, responsibility, of little being important to big, and big messing-up because little wasn't involved is a sick turn of marketing that goes clink in Canary Island accounts. Democracy is your fault people! Look what you havn't done.

Now, there is a question, a thought experiment of sorts. I would like to offer it here: say you could choose, for President, a democratically elected lair, or someone not subject to elections but who tells the truth. I think this question is a zinger and suggests something about the state of politics. What would you choose?

r