safina on quohogowitz
Story by Carl Safina and Victor Stabin
Tegulated l /teg-uh-leyt-ed/ adj. Composed of plates overlapping like tiles.
Tapir l /tey-per, tuh-peer/ n. A large odd-toed ungulate, eating at night, with a long fl xible proboscis. Several species are found in South America, Malaysia, etc.
Transvolation l / trans-voh-luh-shuh n/ n. The act of flying beyond ordinary limits.
Ungulate l /uhng-gyuh-lit, -leyt/ n. A mammal having hoofs.
*Quodlibetical Moments
African Veldt l n. A type of wide-open rural landscape in Southern Africa. Particularly, it is a flat area covered in grass or low scrub, especially in the countries of South Africa, Lesotha, Swaziland, Zimbabwe, Botswana, and Namibia. A certain sub-tropical woodland region. Trees are found only in a few places fraost, fi e, and grazing animals allow grass to grow but prevent the growth of trees. where rabbits live, a building or place with many connected rooms, passages, etc., where you can get lost very easily.
Polemicist l n. To have very strong opinions, and not afraid to state them. Polemic, a controversial argument, especially one refuting or attacking a specific opinion or do trine.
Carl, how many transvolations has it been, so glad you thought of us this time around.
We’re dyin’ to hear how things are going in the eight-mile-high club. First, let‘s get the sound check out of the way. Please put your headphones on and lean towards the mic…you know the drill…
Testing testing . . . me llamo Carl Safina . . . A A Teg-One…testing…testing.
ENGINEER’S VOICE : ON AIR IN 5 4 3 2 1
ANNOUNCER: YOU’RE LISTENING TO “QUODLIBETICAL MOMENTS”— 30 YEARS AND COUNTING — WITH WNYC’S VERY OWN VENERABLE LEONARD QuahogOWITZ.
“Carl Safina AKA the Tegulated Tapir has been a guest on the show a number of times in his various roles as marine preservationist, historian, story teller and polemicist*. Today he shows up as a beat poet in a tegulated heat resistant suit and as always, I am pleased to welcome Carl to my show.”
“I’m pleased to be back on it.”
“I’m introducing you today as a beat poet, tell us how that came about.”
“Today’s poem came to me as I was showering through the heat of our atmosphere at about 40,000 feet above one of my old favorite new places the Veldts of Africa*, I was falling through rhythmic pockets of the lower stratosphere, that were hitting me like some kind of drum machine. While looking down I could see my earthbound cousins being stymied by their mangled migratory patterns.”
“You’re killing me daddio, read it already.”
“With pleasure, Leonard.”
Catch up, move along. Graze that carpet of grass. Oh, I have dreams. Aspirations. Ex-aspirations. I’d like to open a clipping service. Come out here and mow. Sell it to all the other urgent ungulates so that for once gazelles could gaze instead of graze and gnus could choose. But we’d still have the lion question to deal with.
Or we’ll never be able to relax, let down our guard. You need sometime to be somebody. To get something done. As an urgent ungulate I won’t hesitate to tell you; never confuse what’s urgent with what’s important.
All the day-to-day, I want to make it fall away so I’d have something to say. Instead, I’m here eating hay, catching up, moving right along. He who hesitates is toast. Lions are relyin’ on a little laggin’. On our tail without fail. Pain in the you-gnu-what. Wasn’t for them, we could be somebody.
Ever seen a lion? I have. Seen ‘em do some terrible things, man. Those little cubs, so cute. Don’t be fooled. Gotta eat too. Who gnu?; know what I’m sayin’? Them mamas know it. Lions lying all over in this grass. Never know where. Don’t take a step except right behind someone else who’s already just stepped there. Goddamn conformity, is what it makes. Goddamn lions.
Wasn’t for lions, I could have some time. No more urgent ungulate. I could breathe a certain air of erudition. Time’s what I need. I wish I had your kinda time. Sit-on-your-ass time. Time to think. Time to do. Time for things that never get done if you just sit on your ass. Like you..
Ironic, ain’t it? Grass is always greener. I wanna be like you. And if I was you? I’d never do nuthin. Know what I’m sayin’? It’s not just being urgent, and it’s not just havin’ time. A little urgency, a little time, fin -tune that mix—it could be just right.
Gotta go. Sun’s gettin’ low. Everyone’s moving along and I need to get along and go along.
“That was wonderful Carl, just wonderful. I have to ask, how do you stay comfortable enough to write while re-entering the atmosphere?”
“Lenny, it’s a funny thing that you, of all people, should ask that question. Last ime I was on your show, an artist/industrial designer, heard me introducing my book “Voyage of the Turtle” and out of the blue he just sent me a heat-resistant tegulated suit. Would you mind if I give him a shout out for the suit?”
“Carl Baby, on this show, at this station, we encourage Le Shout Out,”
“Victor Stabin, GREAT SUIT!”