On Becoming Poet Colbereate

I just finished reading a friend's months-old post regarding an unexpected rise in the reading of literary fiction. The news is not quite so good for poetry. Man, I don't get it. Not only is poetry fun to write, it's also fun to read. There are no strings attached, no commitments. You just read and react. There's nothing to figure out.

While reading her post, I thought about my own recent experiences with poetry. My degree is in fiction writing, but poetry's always been a good friend. Just last month I sent some poems out to a contest and a journal in hopes of a bite. We'll see.

I also sent, late in December, a letter to Stephen Colbert regarding the Siamese Scats that won me an honorable mention in the 2007 Wergle Flomp. I'm surprised they made it that far, given a vast majority of society's judgmental attitude toward anything fecal. Were the poo-ems juvenile toilet humor? In ways, yes. But they are a little more than just poo poo humor. If read aloud and given some consideration, it is possible to find a certain amount of thoughtful poesy therein. My hope in sending them to Colbert was that they might actually gain further recognition via someone who seems capable of considering toilet humor for something more.

Well, it's been quite some time since I sent the letter, so I am facing facts--especially after reading my friend's post about literary reading habits. I think it's time to archive the letter in my blog, because it won't likely meet exposure any other way. And so I present an original letter entitled, "On Becoming Poet Colbereate."



22 December 2008

Dr. Stephen T. Colbert, D.F.A.
c/o The Colbert Report
513 West 54th Street
New York, NY 10019

Dear Dr. Stephen T. Colbert, D.F.A.,

Until your show became a conduit for global success, I had no idea how important I was to myself. Yes, the intoxicating promise of the Colbert Bump has the potential to seize us all... even a humble man such as meeself. And so now, in meek tone, I write to you on the matter of why I should be named Poet Colberteate. I offer up as evidence the enclosed Siamese-twin poems, “Sca-rat-ska-bat-tale: A Movement” and “Movement Number Two: A Scatastrophe.” Read aloud, these poems conjure the simplexity of an everyday verse that could resound loudly throughout the Colbert Nation.

At the end of this sentence, you will find the appropriate meta-textual time-space gap that facilitates the reading of the enclosed poems...

{Blog link provided specially: the Siamese twin poo-ems}

... so now that you understand the importance of the Siamese Scats, you see how truthfully they harness the vulgaris hominum via the vox populi. The moral, too, is clear: semper ubi sub ubi. (Et illa est verba.)

The truthiness of the matter is, the Siamese Scats should earn me the prestigious title of Poet Colberteate because the “honorable mention” dealt thus far has only insulted my precious Siamese Scats. On the day of their penning, these poems were handed down directly by the purveyor of all things natural, the Almighty Poet Himself, Sir Henry Godsworth Longdong. In the golden light of this budding revisionist history, surely my heavenly droppings glow worthy of the American literary canon. Unfortunately, getting them there requires more than the peristalsis of everyday life... unless....

Enter the American media syndicate. Heck, if Rush Limbaugh can flush his daily verbal toilet with the Clear Channel, why should my divine defecations not undergo nationally-syndicated passage via Viacom? I await your reply, sir::: zimdoggie@gmail.com, or 954.###.####.

Cheers,

c.d.zim

P.S. If nothing else, please issue the Wergle Flomp judges a stern Wag of Your Finger for me, or perhaps some “swimming lessons,” iykwim.

Interesting Strawberries of Recent

The most monster strawberry I have ever seen. I bought the package just so I could bring it home and eat it.



with others for scale



This one's just a little guy (from a different package):



ditto

zimdog's South Florida survival tips

I went earlier today to the local Publix grocery store, and Jesus F'ing Christ, I have never been more anxious to leave a place (meaning South Florida). The level of inter-personality ranks about as high as the median IQ, and if you think I'm just cynical, then ... suffer a cyber-slap across the face. (As Exhibit Z, I offer said cyber-slap up as proof of what South Florida has done to me. I would never cyber-slap a reader five-and-a-half years ago.)

No, during my entire twenty-minute stay at my favorite Publix grocer, I confirmed my suspicions that Florida is truly toxic to personal interaction. I still got some quality people watching in, and I still had a relatively good time with myself, but there were exceptions as usual. For instance, on my way in, I was walking in behind some guy whose back-of-shirt read, "Puccini's Smiling Teeth." In a rare moment of reverting mentally to a time when I could actually show acknowledgment for a stranger, I said to the man, "Okay, I'm curious. Sir, what does 'Puccini's Smiling Teeth' mean?" The man just walked on, not even turning to see if my voice was real or imaginary. He continued to ignore me when I excused myself, trying once more to get his attention.

When I got home, I told Emily and her dad about the failed communication, and they suggested maybe the guy didn't know what was on the back of his shirt. (Emily and her family members do this sometimes, usually when I don't want them to; Emily often does this when I'm genuinely trying to criticize something small that stands for a much larger problem. She instantly views it through the most positive lens possible. Sheesh.) Maybe. Maybe he didn't know what the back of his shirt read, but we were the only two people for at least forty feet. Was I talking in conversational non-yelling tone to the other person in sight?

No, I think it's something else, something more wrong with the behavior of the population-stressed human being. If he turned around to acknowledge me, he might find me pointing a gun at him. As someone who has been held up down here, I can attest that it does happen. But I never saw it coming. Why would you assume you're about to get held up? Or worse, drawn into a conversation with a stranger? Ahhhhhhhh!

I know you sense the horror too, so I apologize. I am one of those people who occasionally attempts conversations with strangers. I'm of that kind, you might say. In the store, I attempted about six conversations. Perhaps two of them felt honest on both ends. And I'm not saying I wasn't ever the self-centered or uninterested one. All I'm saying is, how did it come to this? South Florida is slowly choking me to death, and I feel like one of the few people that realizes South Florida is choking their human-ness to death.

Don't get me entirely wrong. Florida has not been all bad. I love that Emily and I came down here with almost nothing. We have really created a shared life for ourselves, and we've done it on our own. For myself, I got an MFA in Creative Writing, and in my shared life, Emily and I got married and have now started a family. But always forefront on my mind is that South Florida is the last place I would ever want to have a family. To do so would require me to believe much more blindly in the First Capitalist Commandment: Thou shalt cut thy neighbor down at the knees.

Boy oh boy do I spend my days in this cynicism. I must admit though. Life has gotten progressively harder since my in-laws came to town. This isn't to say that life as parent to a newborn hasn't been tons easier with experienced help around. It has been good in some ways, but in one way that matters to me very much, I have not recently encountered many opportunities to just relax and do some zimdoggin'.

I often have a whole lot on my mind, be it good or bad. Ergo, I either need people I can share these thoughts with, or I need time to churn the thoughts myself--and both have been in short supply. Emily truly is my soul mate, so she often listens to my thoughts, but Emily isn't always the Emily I know when her family is around, and right now, spending time at home means spending time with my in-laws and their two dogs, both of which are the most annoying dog I know at alternating times. Some nights, my brother-in-law and his dog come over too, which ups the in-law and dog counts each by one. And most nights, we probably spend an hour or more with our viewing entertainment paused while Emily and her family talk to either of the two remaining Roosa in-laws in Indiana.

To raise the stakes further, there's a double-generation gap between my world view and the way Emily's parents perceive the world. Really, it's a wonder I have been able to spend 4+ months with her parents living here. Last night was the first time I blew up at her mom. She's having a very difficult time finding happiness in her life, and it just became too much for me last night. As for her dad, we haven't butted heads yet. He's been quite respectful of not being too fatherly in the house Emily and I share, but the possibility of a clash is always there. In many respects, my methods for happiness differ from those of my in-laws (and Emily's methods too for that matter), so as long as we can all continue to respect each others' rights to be different, the rest of Florida will go just fine.

Damn, I can't wait for the end of April, which is where I get to the good news. Emily got an internship match with Western State Hospital. Come the end of April, she and I are moving to Tacoma, Washington with our totally kick-ass son Griffin (and of course da wicked ol' Murph-hizzound). Washington fucking State, sir. I am so anxious for the change of pace, the change of intellect, and definitely the change of climate. I grew up in England (from 2-and-a-half to 8 years of age for those who don't know). Even more than the mind-numb and/or greedy participants of South Florida who have injected me with more negative energy in 5.5 years than I encountered cumulatively during the previous 23 years, it has been the Florida weather oppressing me, so the prospect of moving to a damp, cold coastal climate is exactly what I need right now. I think Tacoma is going to be the fresher air I crave--for many reasons. Most of all though, I am excited to start my family life there... just me, Emily, Griffin, and Murphy. We'll finally start a family, and actually become the married couple we legally became over three years ago.

One idea I've been tossing around to go with the lifestyle change is something of a return to discipline. I took some martial arts as a much younger lad, and I've been seriously considering getting back into it in WA. I'm at a point in my life where I am now responsible for another human life (and half of Emily's too). Martial arts is one activity that would return some of the physical and mental discipline that my shy, lazy, and uncertain Florida life has completely conned me of. I either feel removed from myself at home or crammed so far down inside myself in public that I am working on becoming everyone except who I actually want to be.

One thing I miss feeling is the confidence of preparation, hence the title of this blog entry (at last). This became clear to me today in the Publix parking lot. As I walked toward my car, groceries in hand, I had these very thoughts:

1. Keeping your car keys in your back pocket offers the easiest possible access to them, from either a running motion or a fighting stance;

2. Carry most of your grocery bags in your weaker arm. Not only does this help you strengthen that arm, it lets you carry only one bag in your good swinging arm. This bag should contain something that balances force of impact with swing-able velocity, something like ice or some coconuts.

Yes, now you see what I have become in this place. The way I figure it, if I get back into martial arts, I can just react to the bullshit this world is becoming, and I can spend my own time thinking about more important things... like living, not just surviving. I recently also began training myself to leave my wallet in my pants' pocket at all times so I'll always have it with me, no matter what the circumstances: be it house fire, nighttime burglar, carjacking, etc. This is what happens when you live on shakedown street, where the criminals don't hide their behavior, and the criminal cops hide theirs even less. Truly a sad commentary, considering I have, without knowing it, become a man perpetuated by his own fears in a place so full of fears that they rule us all in one way or another.

Funny pictures of Griffin

How to play Pizza Box

Next time you're in a crowd of friendly-ish people, try out this game some of the SoFla crew invented Friday night at the 93 Rock Brew Review.

1. Find a stranger you think might yield a fun reaction. Approach this person and get their attention. When you have it, look them in the eye and say,

Pizza box?

Your chosen stranger's response will most likely be driven by either disbelief or curiosity. But who am I to place further constraint on the possibilities of the human condition? My personal favorite response was from a guy who said, "Yes, pizza box," and kept on walking, girlfriend in tow. For this reason, I recommend approaching stationary strangers. They are less likely to ignore you, and those who are part of a group seem more willing to play along.

2. If your chosen stranger does in fact repeat your question, you then say,

Pizza box.

A simple statement will suffice, although you may wish to add emphasis, as if surprised by their ignorance of Pizza Box.

At this point, your chosen stranger may once more form a question (i.e. "Pizza box, eh?") This is your cue to move the game forward.

3. Ultimately, your goal is to get a high-five or hip-bump from this stranger, so once you feel you have earned your chosen stranger's trust, make your move toward completing the conversation with a loud, enthusiastic:

Peet-za box!

If further curiosity ensues, tell your chosen stranger, "Pizza Box is the word. Spread the word," and quickly move on to the next stranger.

Meditations on the future of the chew toy

From the busy life of a student, I have moved on to living the busy schedule of newborn's parent, thus I have not yet found much extra time in a week to write, and whatever personal writing time I do find is often better devoted to the artsy sort of writing I learned at the academy. In the last few weeks, I had many ideas for blog posts, but none of them got done. I absolutely should consider other ways to post to my blog without always having to sit down and blog it out. In fact, I already do quite a bit of writing in a week, yet rarely do I consider this work blog writing. Yes, I just raised the existential question: What is blog writing?

It's not a very important question though, so I'll just cut to the chase here. I have decided to start posting some of the article writing I do at work. I also reminded myself that this blog can contain more of the random, unfinished philosophical arguments I poke at in a week. Ultimately, what I want to learn how to do is use the chew toy as a reservoir of past ideas I've had.

And so I give you an article I wrote for the Buehler Planetarium's monthly publication:

NASA Research Fuels: A Seed of Global Responsibility?

In all reaches of technology, the National Aeronautics and Space Administration has made great impacts on everyday life. Its list of inventions and patents already includes, but is hardly limited to: ear thermometers that take a temperature with one click, scratch-resistant eyeglass lenses, and the insoles that make shoes more comfortable. And just consider where humankind would be without long-distance telecommunications, cordless power tools, and water filters.

In recent years, NASA has even begun using innovative thinking to study the causes of, and possible solutions to, global environmental change. A recent NASA article, “Alternative Jet Fuels Put to the Test,” outlines one potential example for influential change in daily human life around the globe. Along with various other research groups, NASA is testing the engine performance and aircraft emissions of two jet fuels made from non-petroleum materials. The two focus fuels of the study are synthesized from coal and natural gas, because these resources actually contain the energy necessary to power a commercial airliner.

Given not only the rising cost of oil but also its ever-decreasing supply, exploring alternatives to petroleum seems more important than ever. The technology to synthesize non-petroleum fuels has been in existence for decades, practical interest remained low, but in light of the recent rabid fluctuation in oil prices, the high cost of building the processing plants that would synthesize non-petroleum fuels may now seem like a viable economic alternative. In addition to decreasing the amount of oil used for jet airline travel, these non-petroleum fuels may also reduce the amount of environmental damage done to the skies. In NASA’s words, “it is thought that synthetic fuels create fewer particles and other harmful emissions than standard jet fuel” (“Alternative”).

Yet, the glaring problem with this research is lack of any suggested departure from human dependence on fossil fuels. Coal, natural gas, and oil are all sources of energy being consumed much faster than the Earth can replenish supplies. All fossil fuels are non-renewable sources of energy, limited by formation time. Fossil fuels came into existence gradually from the heat and pressure of the Earth’s crust acting on the fossilized remains of plants and animals that died hundreds of millions of years ago.

Fossil fuels are quite useful as sources of energy, but when burned, they release the byproducts of their energy into the atmosphere. These are greenhouse gases, which come in many forms. Carbon dioxide has been the main focus of recent greenhouse gas discussions, since it is “the leading human-produced greenhouse gas driving changes in Earth's climate” (“NASA Mission”). Meanwhile, an ever-increasing human population demands the burning of more fossil fuels than ever. “Eighty-five percent of all human-produced carbon dioxide emissions come from the burning of fossil fuels,” which means the global addition of “almost 1.4 metric tons of carbon per person per year to the atmosphere” (“Human Factor”).

To put this impact in terms of accumulated effect, “more than half of all fossil fuels ever used by humans have been consumed in just the last 20 years” (“Human Factor”). Humans are creating a global problem of atmospheric proportions. Clearly, humans have not properly learned to weigh the costs of industrial and commercial ventures alongside the benefits. While the Industrial Revolution has greatly benefited the human way of life, it has also led to a startling increase in concentrations of atmospheric greenhouse gases. The evidence is in the air. “Before industrialization, the concentration of carbon dioxide in the atmosphere was about 280 parts per million. By 1958, the concentration of carbon dioxide had increased to around 315 parts per million, and by 2007, it had risen to about 383 parts per million. These increases were due almost entirely to human activity” (“Human Factor”).

Thus, human beings have upset the natural balance of the Earth’s carbon cycle. “If we think of Earth as ‘breathing,’ the balance between photosynthesis, or ‘inhaling,’ and respiration, or ‘exhaling,’ was about equal until humans began mining and burning large amounts of fossilized organic matter like coal, oil and natural gas a couple hundred years ago” (“Orbiting”). Once upon a time, humans only exhaled the carbon dioxide produced by their own bodies. Now, in the age of technology, humans also ‘exhale’ lots and lots of fossil-fuel carbon dioxide. Hundreds of millions of years ago, these fossil fuels were stored as ‘inhalations’ in the Earth. Now their rapid release by humans has gradually and increasingly tipped the balance on the Earth's carbon cycle. In other words, humans have been exhaling much, much more than their own share of carbon dioxide.

But the topic of global climate change need not be entirely a discussion of doom and gloom. Another recent NASA article, “The Orbiting Carbon Observatory and the Mystery of the Missing Sinks,” outlines a new spacecraft scheduled to launch February 23 of this year. Primarily, the Orbiting Carbon Observatory will focus on how “forests, grasslands, crops and soil are absorbing carbon dioxide” (“Orbiting”). NASA has chosen to focus on land sinks because scientists currently have decent estimates for how human activity distributes carbon dioxide between the atmosphere and the ocean, but less is known about how land sinks absorb the greenhouse gas.



Despite clearer estimates, and despite deforestation and (sub)urban development, plants still seem to have the upper hand on land, according to Scott Denning, a professor of atmospheric sciences at Colorado State University, who says “plant life is growing faster than it's dying,’” or in his more scientific explanation, “‘land is a net sink for carbon dioxide, rather than a net source’” (“Orbiting”). Via Denning, the Orbiting Carbon Observatory article outlines the six main ways a carbon ‘sink’ can develop on land. In all cases, human activity plays a role in creating the proper circumstances for more plant growth. More plants means less carbon dioxide acting as a greenhouse gas. In other words, human development and/or interference naturally leads to more plant remediation and/or prosperity.

The underlying message is quite clear. Regardless of how much or how little humans realize and respect what plants do for them, the plants of Earth will continue working as they always have to undo the ‘exhalations’ of humans, be they the essential exhalations of human respiration or the convenient emissions of human activity. And while plants cannot make up for all of the carbon dioxide released by human fossil-fuel use, they deserve some recognition for having done their part.

Here, NASA too should be commended for participating in the research that returns this fact to the human attention. Projects like the Orbiting Carbon Observatory show that the Administration seems to be thinking in the right direction by revealing the damage done, and their current research on jet fuels seems at least one humble baby step on behalf of humankind. And who knows? Given NASA’s innovative spirit, maybe someday it will announce research being done on plant-based jet fuels. One generation of plants could help to ‘inhale’ the emissions created by the energetic burning of the previous generation, and so on. Such a breakthrough would allow a different kind of progress leading back toward that more balanced point in the Earth’s carbon cycle history before humans knew the means for technological progress without restraint. On the other hand, the future holds only that inevitable point in time when the age of fossil fuels comes to an end. The development of responsible technology alone will determine how humans make the transition.

Given its technological contributions thus far, and its current focus on environmental matters, NASA's current environmental research seems as good a reason as any to remain optimistic that scientific research will someday work hard at making fossil fuels a thing of the past. After all, technology seems to have brought us too far to turn back now. Therefore, technology may very well serve as the eventual solution that bridges the gap between a society’s unchecked desire for innovation and its promotion of the healthy ecosystem acting as its life-support system in the vast expanse of space.

References

NASA, Alternative Jet Fuels Put to the Test.

---, The Human Factor: Understanding the Sources of Rising Carbon Dioxide.

---, NASA Mission to Help Unravel Key Carbon, Climate Mysteries.

---, The Orbiting Carbon Observatory and the Mystery of the Missing Sinks.

A litter of one

The zimpup arrived yesterday
He came in the natural way
Young Griffin is strong
With feet that are long
The rest I see no need to say



Emily's 39-week wait has ended. Early on January 2nd, I awoke in bed, still not fully recovered from a stupid New Year's hangover. When I became aware of her, I realized she was using her laptop, tracking her contractions at contractionmaster.com. When they came at five-minute intervals, we calmly loaded the car and went to the hospital.



Emily was a goddess. I have never seen her, nor anyone, in so much pain. It hurt me seeing her like that, but by the end of labor, she said pushing was such a relieving outlet after waiting through the pain of intensifying contractions. At 12:08pm on January 2nd, she delivered our son, Griffin Porter Zimmerman: 7 pounds, 9 ounces (or 3.43 kg for those who prefer metric), with his parents' height (19.5 inches).



Those are the scissors I used to trim the cord. Someday, he gets to blame me if he doesn't like his innie/outie.



That's Griffin's "in utero life-support system" (or, the placenta). He no longer needs it now that he has the Earth's atmosphere for breath and his mom's breast milk to eat. The human organism is quite special.

As Emily lie writhing and making painful exhalations that made me cry, I kept wondering when the beauty of labor would become apparent to me. The whole process seemed more a form of torture than the wonderful experience people often recall. But when my son's head finished passing through the birth canal, and the rest of him came sliding out with the amniotic fluid, the reward for Emily's pain was clear.

But Emily wasn't the only one who had a rough day. The process of labor makes for a pretty sleepy baby...



... and proud parents too!