O.R.C.A Poetry

Warning: The following may contain graphic or violent images that may be upsetting for animal lovers or followers of P.E.T.A. These views do not reflect the views of the author of this blog. These ideas are the rant against writing a academic grant proposal entitled O.R.C.A. Whales were not intended to be hurt in the process of the making of this poem, but unfortunately the name too closely resembled the grant's name - whales became collateral damage in a bitter diatribe against the grueling task of writing a proposal.

O.R.C.A. Blood

Kill the freakin whales

Harpoon them

Use their blubber to fuel industry

Destroy every copy of Free Willy

Put Shamu in a 9x10 tank

And buy hundreds of tickets to see him

fueling the industry that traps these wild animals into captivity

"There she blows!"

See capitalism reap and Marx weep

Tears that may be similar to his twin Fredrick Douglas

See me weep

I swim and jump through hoops

to the whistle of my trainer

to be rewarded with a fish

"My mother was a fish"

Well I'll Northrop FRYE that Stanley FISH

bite the hand that feeds

my academic needs

Cormac McCarthy Diary: Waiting for Chigurh

"The boat is going to Texas. Only now is the child finally divested of all that he has been. His origins are become remote as in his destiny and not again to all the world's turning will there be terrains so wild and barbarian so try whether the stuff of creation may be shaped to man's will or whether his own heart is not another kind of clay" (Blood Meridian 4).

While reading this passage I too was going to Texas. While I was not going to join Judge Holden's gang, I was going to discuss it. Last week I flew into Austin, Texas to attend and present at the Cormac McCarthy Society Conference in San Marcos with two BYU professors and three fellow undergraduates.

Shortly after our arrival into Austin we went to the cheaper option motel rooms that we reserved. However, the frugal decision actually enhanced the trip, because upon arrival to our motel we all looked at each other with the same thought: this is just like No Country For Old Men.

"Chigurh drove slowly along the row of the motel rooms with his window down and the receiver in his lap....He left the office with the key in his shirtpocket and got into the Ramcharger and drove around to the side of the building and parked and got out and walked down to the room carrying the bag with the receiver and the guns in it" (No Country for Old Men 102-3).

As I relayed the scene in my mind, it's no suprise that this is the first thing Ruth and I did when we entered the motel room:

Good night. Let's hope Chigurh does not pay us a visit.

Eat Your Heart Out Persephone

This weekend, my roommate Becky brought home dozens of pomegranates from her family tree in Las Vegas. We've been devouring them ever since. I must admit that up until this week I have only eaten a few pomegranates and those were eaten within the past year or so. I think the reason for my belated tasting is that my mother shrewdly saw the lethal combination of unforgiving pomegranate juice and messy children.

Pineapples you have to cut, bananas you peel, kiwis you scoop out, cherries you spit out the seed, and Pomegranates you pick at. Eating a pomegranate is like exploring a M.C. Eshcer lithograph.

Whatever way you eat your pomegranate, it is my new goal in life to recreate this painting:

Perhaps a little less masculine though.

Welcome Back Autumn

Hay is a symbol of Autumn: hay rides and hay bales lining pumpkin patches.

While at home this summer, I watched the annual ritual of transforming chest high fields of grass into heavy compact bales of hay, cinnamon rolls and marshmallows.

The cinnamon roll

I find something aesthetically beautiful about these coarse, hay cinnamon rolls.

I had to have pictures of these cinnamon rolls so I drove around in my car snapping pictures with my phone. I didn't dare get out of the car - I was afraid that the farmers might call the cops on a girl tromping through their fields with a camera.

The marshmallow

I remember when my dad woke me and my little brother in the middle of the night to drive to a neighboring field so we could examine these strange looking marshmallows. Our dad told us that these were the props for an upcoming X-Files that they were filming in our home town.

I'm the most gullible person in the world - so of course I believed him. But in my defense I was groggy, young and they were strange enough looking in the moonlight to be featured in an episode of X-Files.

Welcome back Autumn.

Musical Coupling

A few months ago I found out that one of my favorite music artists is dating another favorite comedian/singer/actor:

Joanna Newsom and Andy Samberg

Can you imagine of a more interesting musical duo?

Just think about it: the man that performed the comical Iran So Far, is dating the compositional genius that wrote 81'.

I wonder if two eccentric and talented people may have a functional and normal relationship.

Either way, the thought of this musical coupling makes me bemusedly happy - something is right in the world.