Another Strange Coincedence

So not only did Mr. Mark Felt pass away yesterday, but Gov. Rod Blagojevich of Illinois quoted the poem "If" by Rudyard Kipling while claiming his own innocence today, which you'll remember was the other poem that Mr. Ernesto "Che" Guevara had memorized.

Why the 4377 not?

I've got this idea that I think is fantastic. It's like, I don't want to study for my last final which I was supposed to take today (but maybe I'll put it off until tomorrow) because I can't stop thinking through the details of this idea, and how it could be pulled off.

Here's the idea:

I want to take a trip to Argentina, preferably with a few other people (a couple or three?) this summer with the purpose of writing a book. Maybe for all of May, or something.

The book would be in three parts, I think.

The first, and this is why it would require the trip, would be a collection of poems by amateur/unpublished Argentine poets. We would go around knocking doors, almost like missioning, but asking at each door if they know anyone who writes poetry. And we'd travel around the country for about a month doing this (while, of course, also seeing some sights, visiting friends...) until we found enough of these poets willing to have us put their poems in a book. We'd include the original poems plus our own translations.

Part two would be an account of our trip around Argentina finding poets. This could take a lot of different forms, and would probably take shape as the trip progressed. I'm thinking it might be nice to have one person on the trip with the assignment of documenting everything and putting together this part of the book.

The third part of the book would be a collection of true short stories. One for each poet featured - when we found them and got their poems, we would also interview them for biographical information and some interesting stories from their lives, or something like that.


So that's the idea. I actually am fairly serious about it - I've been wanting to go back to Argentina, and I figure the less I wait, the more likely it is to happen. And I think I'll have enough money to do it. Plus, if you're going to travel around Argentina, wouldn't knocking on doors looking for poets be a fantastic way to do it? If you can think of a better way, let me know. Anyone can go to the tourist sites, and can come away saying that they've seen the tourist sites. But this would be a way to have some real positive interaction with random people. The book, in some ways, just kind of serves as an excuse.

In posting this here, I'm inviting suggestions, and looking for collaborators. Really, I'm wondering if you'd like to join in, Tim. Not only would you be a great traveling companion in Argentina, but you've got those mad writing skills that would be so handy for writing a book. And Caitlin, you'd be much more than welcome to come. I'm sure you'd contribute in many ways, but the main one that comes to mind right now is you'd make it so people wouldn't think we were gay. If Tim gets you that Rosetta Stone software for Christmas, you'll be more fluent than either of us by May. (I don't know if there's anyone else who might read this that might be interested, but if you are, let me know.) But the problem is it would cost a bit of money - airfare is at least $1000 right now, and a month of hotels and food and traveling across a country won't be cheap, even if it is Argentina. Room sharing (but always complying completely with the Honor Code) could cut costs. If we find a way to boil potatoes (or get used to eating raw potatoes), we can dramatically cut food costs.

I guess taking a month off of work/school could also be difficult. But worth it.

Also, I'm wondering about other people to invite. I was thinking I'd invite Chandler - he's got his reasons to want to return to Argentina, knows the East coast better than any of us, and could also contribute positively to a book. I don't know how his financial situation looks, but my gut tells me he's loaded. Even if he is kind of cold.

Do you think there's some kind of grant floating around out there for cross-cultural poetry-related book-writing? I'll look. Maybe there's something more that could be added to the plan to get it funded somehow. Or if someone has some rich relatives? Or maybe some random person with plenty of money will stumble across this blog and feel the sudden urge to donate to the cause...? We could work out a deal to give you a cut of any royalties from the book... (This even has major motion picture written all over it). Otherwise, it'll be a question of pinching pennies for a while. Or pinching Benjamins. But lawfully. If possible.

And if you don't want to go/can't afford it/can't take the time off, it will break my heart and I'll become depressed and spend all of the rest of my life wondering about what could have been. But don't worry about it.

So what do you say?

El Gaucho Martín Fierro

I was reading up on Ernesto "Che" Guevara today, after he was used as an example in our priesthood meeting, and then there were comments made later that seemed potentially uninformed. They were. And please don't take this as any kind of endorsement of brutality and revolution, etc., but I learned something very impressive about El Che. "He could . . . recite Kipling's "If"and Hernández's "Martín Fierro" from memory." (That's from Wikipedia.) They don't make clear if he could recite "If" in English or Spanish, probably English (which would make it a little more impressive), but Martín Fierro (a 2,316 line epic poem), that's incredible. Maybe there was something wrong with him.

Something else I learned about Che, and this was from the movie Motorcycle Diaries, is that he was a poor dancer. Or at least that's what they showed. I was just at a dance party, though very briefly, because I don't dance. I can't swim or dance. I'm too cool to swim or dance. Which isn't actually true, but it's a line from a song - spoken by Sir Nose Devoid-of-funk, or something like that. I took swimming lessons for several years, and earned the swimming merit badge. And I took a dance class in high school and had the top grade in the class (largely due to the importance of attendance to the grades). But I've never understood the kind of dancing that goes on at a "dance party." Everyone just kind of jumps around randomly, which is kind of funny to watch, but I really can't see anything enjoyable about doing it. And I'd think maybe my hesitation in dancing in this type of venue related to my self-consciousness, but I've never had any desire to dance like that, even when I'm completely alone. But I won't hold it against you if you enjoy dancing at dance parties, some of my best friends dance at dance parties. And when I see them, I laugh at them, because they look ridiculous. I almost feel like they're acting this way to fit in with Provo College Student social norms, but they claim they enjoy it, and I guess I can't prove that they don't. I mean, I enjoy Sacred Harp Singing, and some people can't understand that.

In summary, any movie can be made a little more humorous if it includes a scene with a communist revolutionary trying to dance a tango to a mambo.

Fusion

I've decided that one of my favorite things about my current living arrangements is that I cook for myself, meaning I can fix whatever I want and will only have to answer to myself. For example, yesterday I fixed butter beans with onions sauteed in olive oil and grenadine syrup with garlic, cinnamon, and parmesan. You have no idea how delicious they were (and very pink). I would never just throw grenadine syrup into my onions if someone else were going to eat the food, but since it was for me, why the 4377 not? And today I was fixing some cheese and spinach tortellinis, and I prepared my own sauce. It started out kind of standard - stewed tomatoes with plenty of garlic, "Italian seasoning" (a McCormick herb blend), a little olive oil, and some salt. Which is about where I would have left it if anyone else were going to eat it. But because they weren't, I figured, 'what the heck,' and threw in some cinnamon, a lot of paprika, some chipotle hot sauce, and some milk to make it creamy. And it was incredible. Similar story with the honey-nutmeg black-eyed peas with extra-sharp cheddar cheese. Or this morning's improvised recipe for huevos rancheros. Or the soy-dogs with cinnamon and garlic. Or the Pero (like Postum but they still make it) with a little cocoa in it this afternoon.

You may have noticed that cinnamon and garlic are pretty common to these dishes. This is because I don't have a lot of spices/seasonings, but I've got cinnamon and garlic. And they are pretty much good in anything, especially together.

Thinking about it though, I do make some pretty fantastic food for other people - over the Thanksgiving break I fixed enchiladas verdes with green chile, mole verde, and crema fresca for my family. But I didn't add any cinnamon. So I guess I'm just a little more conservative in cooking for others, though I'm still an amazing cook. Let me tell you, every meal you eat that I didn't prepare, you're missing out.

Stanley

So there's this kid Stanley, right, except that's not really his name because he's from Taiwan and just uses the name Stanley here in the states. He's in my ward, right, and he used to sing with me in the ward choir - meaning he came to a couple of choir practices and maybe even sang once with the choir in sacrament meeting, I'm not sure - but he stopped because he claims he can't sing. He's really not that bad, he just doesn't read music which makes it hard for him. But he's given me some good advice, like never send a girl flowers after just one or two dates, and buy the Taiwanese cookies in a pointed box at Chao's (I didn't - I think I may have found them, but they looked more like a diet biscuit than something I'd actually want to eat, so I decided maybe it was the wrong pointed box). He also told me that I look like a polygamist because I almost always wear button-up shirts. But today, for the second time, he told me that I did a good job singing with the choir - that my voice really stuck out. I tried to explain to him last time that in choirs, you're supposed to blend, so saying that my voice stuck out isn't really a compliment at all - more like a criticism. But he told me the same thing again today. He's probably right, but it's not my fault if every other guy in the choir can't hold a candle to my singing volume. I mean, the choir director told us all to sing a lot louder. Everyone else just sang a little louder, but I was obedient and sang a lot louder. Which led Stanley to compliment me on sticking out. He also said if he were to rob a bank, he'd need a driver and one person to hold the door. So if you read something about me being arrested as the door holder in a bank heist, you'll know why.

Soil Degradation

"Journalists sometimes describe unsexy subjects as MEGO: My eyes glaze over. Alas, soil degradation is the essence of MEGO."

This is from Our Good Earth in the September issue of National Geographic. It's an enthralling article, all about soil degradation.

The final question and answer on this page show just how exciting soil really is, though.

J Pinder

The title of this post has to do with a cat. My family has four cats now, the best being Sam. The others are Harold (We usually call her Harry - Hera has also been used, though without official sanction [though she is a girl, so some feel it's more appropriate {though it's not her name}]), Lily, and the Gray Cat. I think Tim knows all about the first three cats, I think I maybe even told you about the Gray Cat some time about a year ago. But I probably didn't give you all the details. I certainly haven't given all the details to everyone.

So about two years ago, a little less than two years ago, we got a new cat. There are differing versions of how this came about. I wasn't around at the time, otherwise I could give a definitive answer as to which version is correct. My mom claims that this gray kitten followed the visiting teachers in. Or showed up about when they did and was still on the porch when they left. My brother Nathan explained that he was singing some Sacred Harp music, and this gray kitten showed up at the door meowing. Either way, it was really cold, and it was a small kitten, so they brought it in. I'm inclined to believe the second version of how the gray cat came, for reasons which will be explained.

Once it became clear that we were going to keep this gray kitten, the question of a name arose. I don't remember all the names that were suggested, I'm sure I never heard all of them. Here are some that I do remember: Cleburn, Blendan, Joaquin V. Gonzalez, Blanding, Buen Orden, Ninja Demon, Charly, Frankie, Jimmie, Kai, Spider, Jiminy, Freddie, Remedios Escalada de San Martin, Suomi, Jimmy Peanut, and Strawberry Clean (which I think came from a mis-hearing of Strawberry Queen). Also possibly Socks. J Pinder is short for Jimmy Peanut. If you can figure that out. When she was taken to the vet for the first time to get shots, we figured we'd have to give them a name for her records. This turned out not to be the case, they were fine with just listing her as Cat.

Her name ended up being Gray Cat. She likes to play, to shred paper towels, to catch cockroaches in my brother's closet and take them into the dining room to play with them, to open bags of noodles, and loud singing.

Whenever anyone is singing in my home, the Gray Cat will show up, especially if they're singing loudly. I like to play civil war songs on the piano and sing them loudly - The Vacant Chair or Who'll Save the Left are her favorites - and she'll come and walk around me meowing or she'll jump up onto my lap or grab my arms. This Sunday, I was at home for Christmas related festivities, and while my family sang Christmas songs around the table for Advent, the Gray Cat walked around the table meowing and then got up onto the table walking from person to person.

I'm ashamed to admit that I don't have any photos of any of these cats available to me immediately. Instead, here are some pictures of orange cubic zirconia (a total of 40 cts) and an artificial star sapphire (3.15 cts):