Some Haiku

So I think something weird and unexpected has happened. I'm having a craving for some Bubble Tea. I can't fully explain it. I don't think I would particularly enjoy it once I got it, but I want a Bubble Tea nevertheless. I composed a Haiku in honor of this moment.

Late at night it comes:
Strange craving for Bubble Tea.
Please hold the snot balls.

It was Emily who likened the tapioca pearls in the tea to snot balls, and I am forever in her debt for the delightful imagery that accompanies this comparison. I was considering an alternate last line, in which case the poem would look more like this:

Late at night it comes:
Strange craving for Bubble Tea.
Tapioca Kills.

For this line, I am indebted to Brian Zeller. Of course, he and Allison did manage to ruin the mystique that I had been trying to build up around the tapioca by saying that it comes from a root. Come on, guys, I was having fun with that. I didn't want to know what it really was.

I recently read an article about Tom DeLay in Newsweek. Okay, I read most of the article, then got so mad that I think I threw the magazine across the room before I got to finish. Did you know he kept eight bull whips in his office when he was Majority Whip? Guess what state he is from. You got it! T-E-X-A-S! The stars at night are big and bright, and just when you think you've seen the bottom of the humanity barrel, this great state produces another winner like Delay. And now he's indicted on money laundering charges.

My favorite fact from the article was that DeLay has blamed school shootings like the one at Columbine High on, now read carefully or you might miss his subtle logic, day care, teen birth control, and the teaching of evolution. I mean he must be some kind of genius, right? Nobody is seriously that stupid. His brain must simply be functioning on some higher level that the rest of us can't understand. How do you get from teen birth control to Columbine? I think that was the point at which the magazine learned to fly.

Ok, sorry. I don't know what made me think of this and want to write about it. I guess since I grew up in Massachusetts, then spent five years in Oberlin of all places, and am now living in Texas, I'll need to vent from time to time. I tried to write a Haiku about the money launderer, and this is all I could come up with:

DeLay of game, five
Yard penalty, Bigoted
Texan with a whip.

Not too clever, I'll admit. I never claimed to be a poet.

I have to hand it to Houston that, for a city in Texas, it has a surprisingly lively arts scene. Tonight I saw Charles Wuorinen conduct a performance of his own piece, Ashberyana, written for Baritone voice, String Quartet, Piano, and Trombone. The guy playing trombone, Jim Pugh, is a great player from New York. He came to Rice to give a masterclass yesterday, and I got to play for him then. It was quite a good piece, and great to hear some good contemporary music again. It's one of those things Oberlin has that you just can't find most places.

Tim Weiss, CME,
Carrying four mutes at once.
I want it all back.