Folio: SLCC’s Literary & Arts Magazine 2002

Folio

A Journal of Essays by Students at Salt Lake Community College

Volume 4 Number 1

Spring 2002

Faculty Advisors

Dr. Paul Almonte, Chair, Division of Humanities

David Susman, Assistant Professor, English Department

Support Provided By Division of Humanities, Paul Almonte, Chair

Department of English

Cover and Back Art

"Untitled" by Brandon Wilhelmsen

Brandon Wilhelmsen is a graphic designer who specializes in logo design and advertising design. Anyone interested in further information about Brandon and his art can contact him via e-mail at alwayslivinitup@yahoo.com

Preface

Folio began as a showcase for texts produced in English classes at Salt Lake Community College. The first volume consisted almost exclusively of essays from English 1010 and English 2010. Since then, we have made an effort to expand the scope of Folio, to solicit pieces that show the wide variety of works being produced in our classrooms. This latest collection is our most diverse yet, drawing on texts from across the humanities curriculum, and offering subjects that range from traditional to experimental. Numerous genres are represented here, and the pieces vary in mood-some highly academic, some avant-garde and serious-minded, some casual and whimsical.

Indeed, many of the texts contained in this volume seem to go beyond the "standard" work of English and the humanities. Several of the pieces take up familiar social and political issues. Tiffany Heward makes an argument for the construction of the Legacy Highway. Thomas Kruger addresses the future of the Glen Canyon Dam. Alma Smoot wrestles

with the question of an ideal governmental system. Other pieces introduce social issues that may be less familiar to readers. When Naomi Lynn White writes in favor of graffiti, she opens our eyes to questions of art and inner-city justice that might otherwise have escaped us.

Some of the texts deliberately stretch the boundaries of Beginning with this edition,

Folio widens

its

scope

by accepting submissions from across the humanities. traditional academic writing. Spencer Singleton, for example, applies a keen analytical eye to a decidedly un-academic subject--comedian Dennis Miller. Ben Benson meditates on (of all things) acne, drawing on the s01t of humor that isn't often seen in classroom writing.

Other pieces very much

exemplify the rigor of traditional academic work. Golda Hukic traces the theme of friendship through the novels of Herman Hesse, and along the way surveys some important concepts of philosophy. Kara Reeder inquires into the conditions of a successful maniage with a voice that is at once honest and insightful.

Finally, the current volume of Folio features an expanded selection of poetty and creative narratives. Patrick Boice, Sheena Goss, Kendra Warren, and Keith Matthew Phillips all write verse that is serious and honest. Crystal Lowder and Tracy Turner offer stories that are equally powerful and well crafted.

Given the diversity of pieces represented here, and the various disciplines from which they are drawn, we have decided to be light-handed in our work as editors. Rather than impose a sttict standard of uniformity when it comes to citations or linguistic conventions, we have chosen to let each text stand on its own, representing both the writer's vision and the field of study from which it was born.

Overall, the collection demonstrates the talent of the

individual contt·ibutors as well as the wide range of possibilities for creative and thoughtprovoking work in the humanities. In that spirit, Folio continues to encourage submissions from any and all students enrolled in humanities courses, as well as feedback from all readers.

Paul Almonte David Susman

Build the Legacy; Construct the Highway

by Tiffany Heward

When I was young, and long before I had a license of my own, I loved going places with my mother. She and I would do various things together throughout the day, but as soon as three o'clock rolled around, she would often be heard to say, "Let's hurry home so that we can avoid msh hour." Since that time the traffic jams have only gotten worse. More people have moved into this Great Salt Lake valley of ours and buildings have been built, homes have been constmcted, and more jobs have been developed. All of this new growth here in Utah has been quite exciting for us. We have had more opportunities than ever before. However, along with this population increase has come additional traffic problems. We are constantly trying to figure out the best way to travel to our jobs and so forth, but we are finding limited alternatives. As a result of this, Governor Mike Leavitt has proposed the Legacy Highway.

The proposed 120-mile Legacy Highway is a road that would run from Nephi to

Brigham City. It would have nine lanes headed in both the north and south directions and would accommodate not only people living in the valley now, but the number of people that will live here in the year 2020. Since the proposal of the highway, there has been a lot of controversy over the idea. Many environmentalists, biologists, and naturalists have shunned the proposal, declaring that it would min too much wetland, destroy the ecosystem of the Great Salt Lake, harm many animals' habitats, and cause an excess of pollution. Others have mentioned additional taxes, automobile alternatives, and recreational concerns, as reasons to oppose the highway. With all of this in mind, and after much study and research I have come to the conclusion that even though it is true that the highway will have a few downfalls, it will by far outweigh them with its benefits.

In addressing the influence the highway will have on the wetlands, it must be acknowledged that yes, the highway will destroy some of the wetlands.

It will, in fact, impact 160 acres of wetlands. Environmentalists such as Marlin Stum, Larry Dalton, and Joel Peterson have emphasized that they are not in favor of this. Joel Peterson even called it a "death by a thousand cuts" (Stum 2). However, Governor Mike Leavitt has developed a plan for protecting wetlands that these men should take into consideration. The Nature Preserve, as he calls it, will consist of approximately 1600 acres of wetlands and uplands that would act as a buffer between development to the east and the Great Salt Lake to the west. This buffer zone is a protection area that would represent the largest acquisition of space along the Wasatch Front in the last decade ("Legacy Nature Preserve" 1}. Therefore, the effect that the highway will have on the wetlands would only seem minor next to this preserve of land.

Besides the matter of the wetlands, the ecosystem of the Great Salt Lake has been brought up in dealing with the highway. It is said that about 750,000 ducks and geese hatch by the lake every year. It is home to more than I 00 different species of birds and it also suppo1is fish, amphibians, rep-

tiles and mammals (Stum 1). Conservationists fear the Legacy Highway could help destroy this intricately balanced ecosystem. Lynn DeFreitas said this about the idea: "Risking all these impacts on a unique ecosystem like this just for another highway is ilTesponsible" (Graham 2). But are we really risking the death of this most fragile ecosystem? In actuality, the environmental studies indicate that the road will have little or no adverse impact on the Great Salt Lake. The Legacy project alignment is largely above, and outside, the floodplain of the Great Salt Lake. The Lake, and the nearby wildlife habitat, are west of the Legacy Highway itself ("Fact Sheets" 4). Given this information it is obvious that the ecosystem and the animal habitat will still be able to thrive when the Legacy Highway has been built.

The third major concern that environmentalists have is that of pollution. Nobody wants additional pollution, and many environmentalists believe that additional roads mean additional pollution, but that is not always the case. Air pollution from automobiles actually improves with less traffic conges-

tion. Increased travel speeds reduce emissions of key pollutants. When the vehicle miles traveled increases, maintaining speeds keeps pollution lower. Therefore, because there are a limited number of interchanges on the highway, it will help maintain speeds and keep the pollution down. Also, the Legacy highway is part of the approved transportation implementation plan (TIP), which has been found to conform to all air quality requirements ("Fact Sheets"6). This means that building the road will not result in violations of air pollution standards.

Even with all of this brought out into the open, there are still many questions that people residing in Utah are asking. Their main concerns do not involve how the highway will affect the environment, but rather how the highway will more directly affect them. The first question is: do we have to pay for the road through taxes? The answer is yes. Now, everybody knows that no one enjoys paying taxes, so, understandably the initial thought of having to pay for the road through taxes doesn't exactly run over smoothly with people.

Marlin Stum even said, "The

Utah Legislature needs to eliminate some road projects or start printing its own currency" in reference to paying taxes for the highway (Stum 7). However, who really likes sitting at a dead stop on the freeway during rush hour either? If you look at it that way, the idea of spending a little extra money in order to get home to your family sooner doesn't seem like such a bad idea.

In addition, the fact that we will have a much higher population residing in Utah by the year 2020 is yet another reason why we should make the sacrifice to pay for the highway. It is said that the highway will still be able to accommodate the number of people living in the Salt Lake valley then, which is a major incentive to pay the price.

Because we know that population is going to increase and more people are going to need to travel because of it, the next question has risen-why don't we just focus on creating more mass transit? Mayor Rocky Anderson is extremely in favor of this idea. To him, as well as to many others, this is the answer to our transportation needs. He said, "by giving people alternatives to driving

their personally and socially expensive cars and by making our cities places where people want to live, we can dramatically affect the quality of life

Many environmentalists believe that additional roads mean additional pollution, but that is not always the case.

for our citizens, saving them time, expense, and frustration" (Anderson 3). He has also said, "we must be able to differentiate between good projects and those that, like the Legacy Highway, pretend to lead us toward this dream but instead take us fmther away" (Anderson 1). After hearing what the Mayor had to say on the subject, I'm sure many people quite agree with him. So, why don't we just build mass transits? Well, the truth is, the city is planning on it. The Legacy Highway Project is just one element of the complete North Corridor transportation Shared

Solution plan. This plan contains aggressive transit enhancements, which include bus, and rail, both of which are being pursued for the North Corridor ("Fact Sheets" 2).

UDOT is in favor of, and dedicated to, suppo1ting alternative forms of transp01tation, including commuter rail. It has worked jointly with UTA in making this a reality. UDOT knows that rail transit and other transit improvements are needed to make the congestion problems improve, but they alone cannot solve the 2020 travel demand without a significant highway component being built ("Fact Sheets" 2-3). Rebecca Hanmer wrote this on the matter: "While the preferred alternative meets more of the projected demand than any nonLegacy construction alternative, it does not completely satisfy the projected need" (qtd. in Loomis 1-2). Therefore, we must not only build the highway, but mass transits as well, because we will need both of them in the future.

Recreation is yet another worry that people have in trying to decide whether or not they are for or against the highway. "Man's link to [the wetlands] is recreation," said Larry

Dalton. Hunters and fishers use these lands that the highway is going to be built upon to play their sport. Bird enthusiasts, mountain bikers, and hikers all roam here (qtd. in Stum 8). They are worried that the highway will disturb their outdoor events. In answer to their concerns, the preserve project also includes a trail system for bicyclists, equestrians, and walkers that will parallel the roadway. This trail will even connect with city trail systems up and down the corridor bringing more options to the traveling decisions of the walkers and bicyclists. As for the fishers and hunters, the ecosystem of the Great Salt Lake and the wetlands is going to be pro-

We must not only build the highway, bu.t m-ass transits

as well, because we will need both of them in the

future. tected under the supervision of state and federal agencies. As a result, the highway will not have an influence on the eco-

system for the hunters' and fishers' enjoyment.

In addition to these advantages that the highway project has created, there are more benefits that have not been mentioned. One, for example, is that it will produce more jobs for people living here in Utah now. With our economy suffering right now, many construction workers are out of work. The Legacy Highway Project alone could help thousands of workers earn money. In fact, before it was brought to a halt by judge Jenkins last September, many people were already working on the project and were happy just to have work. However, since the temporary injunction, 170 people have lost their jobs, and many more don't know how they are going to get by (Mitchell 1). The highway is a big project that will take a consequential aIB.Q\\\\t Qf t1mt tmd \1md1,1ct:, u considerable number of jobs that will help people survive until our economy picks up again. Workers need the highway project.

Another attraction of the highway is that it will allow people to travel to more places and arrive in less time than they had before. Because of this,

people may be able to accept more job offers, and create better situations for their families and for themselves. With a road that runs for 120 miles straight, many more opportunities could open up and our current economical situation could be strengthened simply with the highway being built.

So, now people may be wondering-if the highway is such a wonderful idea, why has Judge Jenkins brought the project to a halt? The answer is simple. Regardless of the fact that the highway will service the state for a greater good, many of the plaintiffs' arguments do hold water. Their concerns about the highway's location and so on should be taken sedously. Therefore, the Judge has brought the project to a halt to further consider what the best solution to the case might be. The plaintiffs' arguments that resulted in this postponement were as follows: the alternate routes were not seriously studied, air quality deterioration was dismissed or misrepresented, wetland value and damage was poorly calculated, traffic and air quality impacts in Salt Lake were ignored, modeling of future traffic needs and behaviors was shabbily

done, and the potential for using transit modes, including commuter rail, was given little or no consideration as a robust transportation option (O'Connell I). All of these issues were addressed by both the defendants and the plaintiffs, and in the end, the Judge had to decide what he thought was best. The answer was to take more time to consider the pros and cons of the highway. That is why it has not yet been built.

Given all of this information the question is posedw hat is the right answer? Should the highway be built? Well, what one judge decides is right may be what another judge would say is wrong. The same goes for every individual living in Utah who would somehow be affected by the highway. One may think that the effects of the highway are positive; another may think that they are negative. As for myself, I believe that the effects are only positive. Through my research I have found that the Nature Preserve is a generous offer that comes along with a highway that is, and will be extremely needed. I have also found that many of the other concerns such as pollution, the ecosystem, wetlands, animals, taxes,

recreation and the need for mass transit have been addressed in a satisfactory manner. I am completely convinced that if Utah wants to better its traveling and economic situation, while still preserving and maintaining a healthy environment, then building the Legacy Highway and setting the Nature Preserve in motion is the way to go.

Works Cited

Anderson, Ross C. Rocky. "Transportation and Quality of Life." Transportation Issues and the Legacy Highway. 10 April2002.Http:// www.slcgov.com/mayor speeches/ bonnevillekiwanis 13101.htm

"Fact Sheets, Frequently Asked Questions (FAQs) About the Legacy Parkway Project. "UDOT- Legacy Parkway Frequently Asked Questions. March 2002. Http:l/www.dot.state.ut.us/ legacy/FAQs.htm.

Graham, Judith. "Legacy Highway Threatens Millions of Birds Dropping by Great

Salt Lake."Chicago Tribune. August 31, 2000.

"Legacy Nature Preserve Proposal." Mike Leavitt, Governor of the State of Utah. March 2002 Http:// govemor.state.ut.us/html/ inp.htmI

Loomis, Brandon. "Environmental Protection Agency Opposes Salt Lake City Highway Plan." The Salt Lake Tribune. September 6, 2000.

Mitchell, Lesley. "About 170 Out of Work After Court Blocks Salt Lake Freeway Project." The Salt Lake Tribune. December 6, 2001.

O'Connell, Ann. "Legacy Highway Court Hearing." Legacy Highway. April 10, 2002 http://www.saltlakeaudubon.org/conserv/ legacy.htm

Stum, Marlin. "A Road Runs Through It-The True Impacts of Our Legacy." Legacy Highway. March 2002. Http:/ /stoplegacyhighway.org/ road.htm.

What Makes a Good Marriage?

by Kara Reeder

I wipe my sweaty palms off on the fronts of my shorts, take in a ragged breath and try to calm myself and enjoy the scenery flashing by as we speed through Little Cottonwood Canyon. I glance at my husband Owen, sitting behind the steering wheel and marvel that he seems so unruffled. I know that he also has a fear of heights, but from my perspective, his little fear is surely dwarfed by my own demon of panic. He's told me that the more I get out on the rock, the less frightened I'll be. This makes a lot of sense on the face of it, but I find that the frenzied pace of motherhood often leaves me out of breath and with little energy to focus on other pursuits-at least this is what I tell myself. In tmth, I avoid clinging perilously to the sheer side of a huge rock wall because of the absolute terror this inspires, not because the demands of my children keep me from it.

I take another deep breath hoping that the ice running through my veins is due to the cold ah- pouring out of the ah-conditioned vents and not from

my irrational fear of climbing "The Coffin." What idiot names these stupid routes anyway? There are other routes with names like Lazams, Last Rites, Private Hell and Edge of Hell, that don't exactly inspire a whole lot of confidence. It is quite possible I'm not the only climber fixated on his or her imminent demise.

Sensing my unease, Owen struis talking about the route we'll be climbing today. Did I know that it's named "The Coffin" because the upper portion of the rock is actually shaped like a coffin, not because climbers are removed from it in a funerru·y container? It's also rated a 5.9, which he believes is well within my ability and is one of the best "crack" routes ru·ound. I roll my eyes and let out a big sigh. He's obviously forgotten that I peeled spectacularly off the 5 .10 crux on Goodro's Wall, and nearly wet my pants as I pendulumed toward a very unforgiving and bone-cracking cliff face nearby. Moreover, I really don't like jamming my fingers into dru·k cracks that may be home to little

creeping things that are waiting to stab their tiny fangs into my flesh. For around the millionth time this morning, I ask myself, "Why the hell am I doing this?"

The answer is sitting in the driver's seat next to me.

My women friends have frequently asked me the same question, albeit in more genteel terms. It's difficult for them to understand why I'd want to do something that will leave me hot and sweaty, and with so many scratches from the rock on my legs and arms that I resemble a strange roadmap, let alone the lack of proper bathroom facilities on the side of a cliff. My response is fairly simple. Owen loves rock climbing and because I love him, I'll learn to love rock climbing too. I can resent the time he spends away from me while he's on the rock, or I can join him and take pleasure in the time we spend together. Who knows, I may even find that I enjoy rock climbing for its merits alone.

Personal experience shows me that marriages founder for several reasons, but the most common seems to be that couples become disconnected and then lose each other. Some may remain married, but a great

deal of the richness and complexity of their companionship has withered. As a result of being detached, other problems like finances, kids and discrepancies about sex, that were previously minor, grow larger and take on a life of their own, eventually consuming any goodness left.

I stir from my musings as we slow to a stop on the side of the road. Owen jumps out of the car, eager to hit the trail. We load up our gear in backpacks, shoulder a couple of ropes and packs and get under way. The hike to The Coffin takes only about half an hour up fairly steep terrain. This seems like a walk through the park compared to other climbs we've gone on. While Owen periodically comments about the laziness of many climbers who won't climb anything that's more than 20 feet away from a parking lot, I privately think that walking such a short distance while hefting a pack loaded down with heavy gear is not a bad idea.

As is customary, he lets me set the pace and we soon find a steady, if slow, rhythm. Within minutes, I find that I'm already sucking in great quantities of air. My mountain goat of a bus-

band breathes no heavier than he did when we were sitting in the car-no fair! By the way, do I remember that the mountains are filled with rattlesnakes this time of year? They love to come out and soak up the heat from the sun radiating off the rocks in the trail. I suddenly find my strength gone, my legs wobbling, and feel a great need to sit down and rest a moment. I do so very carefully. Owen stands patiently waiting, with hands on his hips, looking up the trail. He looks like my very own Sir Lancelot and will slay any dragons (or snakes) that come my way.

So many young women marry believing they've found their knight in shining armor who'll Iide with them into the sunset. So many young men believe their young bride will stay as radiant, adoring and beautiful as she was on their wedding day. Day to day living soon yanks them back to reality. She finds that her knight has annor made of tin. He leaves his socks on the floor next to the hamper. He forgets to tell her he loves her everyday. He wants sex, but leaves out the cuddling. Foreplay now means the pre-game discussion about Doug Flutie' s throwing mm. He finds that his

bride cliticizes every little thing he does to a point that he begins to believe he can't do anything right. The sexy lingerie has disappeared and an ugly flannel nightgown has taken its place, which is just as well since she's gained at least 30 pounds since they married. The rate at which she spends their hard earned money makes his head spin. Little wonder they begin making nasty comments to friends and co-workers about each other. Quirks that were considered chm·ming and lovable before marriage are regarded with utter contempt. They hold onto secret hurts like a stingy treasure and before long, they've forgotten why they were ever in love to begin with. No longer companions, they develop into enemies who wm· in court, with the children as pawns in their never-ending effort to inflict as much pain as possible. Instead of watching out and wm·ning one another of the snakes in their path, they've become the snakes, quick to strike first with poison before the other can attack.

Enough resting, off we go. We soon reach the base of the route and shrug off our packs. I feel so much lighter maybe I could just float up to the top,

and then I get a good look at it-maybe not. Fingers stiff with apprehension, I wrestle my pack open and dig through it looking for my harness. It's in a jumbled knot in the bottom. I pull it out and turn it 'round and 'round till I figure which loop fits which leg and shimmy into it. I finish threading the waist strap back through the buckle and look up to see Owen eye-

So many young women marry believing they've found their knight in shining armor. So many young men believe their bride will stay radiant. Day to day living soon yanks them back to reality. ing me appreciatively, with a certain smile playing around his mouth that I know the exact meaning of. The harness fits so tightly, I feel self-conscious that maybe I look fat, but my husband's look tells me otherwise.

,Many of my women friends complain that their husbands are constantly pawing at them without first gradually warming things up. They need to feel a strong emotional bond before the flames of passion can be stirred, and that connection is made through talk. It seems a marriage can fly or die because of sex and communication. The women have spent the bulk of their day meeting the needs of others: making a casserole for the new mother down the street, spending hours volunteering with the PTA, helping each of her children with homework that she barely understands, and consoling a friend who is struggling with the demands of her own life. Her husband walks through the door, snaps at the entire family, and wants dinner on the table. She sighs and bites her tongue. She's learned that some arguments are just not worth having. After he's had a nice meal and a chance to relax, he'd also like some fun in the bedroom. When the kids are asleep, she'd like to sit quietly with him and talk about her day and hear about his. He ignores her attempts at conversation and makes his intent known by grabbing her breasts. She's too exhausted to break off his

clumsy eff01ts, and afterward resents his refusal to fill her emotional needs.

Many of my husband's friends complain that their wives are frigid and totally uninterested in any physical contact. They've spent their day in what amounts to constant conflict with their boss, coworkers and customers. His boss isn't happy with the rep01t he spent weeks sweating over. He can't help but overhear the woman in the cubicle next to him engaged in a long and loud argument on the phone with her boyfriend. The sound of her angry voice makes him grit his teeth. Another co-worker comes over to chat and won't leave no matter how many hints he drops that he's behind on his project. His commute home leaves him infmiated and bewildered at the lack of humanity he finds on the road. These people wouldn't be this pushy in the grocery line, why the transformation behind the wheel? He's relieved to be home when he pulls into the driveway; finally, he can relax. But, the kids are yelling at each other, his wife is yelling at the kids and after the bad day he's had, he snaps at all of them. After the kids are in bed, he

can't figure out why his wife wants to talk about their day. He just wants to leave his work at work, and not bring it home. He feels he's protecting his wife from his bad day by not sharing it. Sex is a way for him to completely de-stress, why can't his wife show a little interest for his sake? She needs physical contact to re-gain some composure in her hectic life, to feel his strength and reassurance, but must it always lead to intimacy? Physical contact for him almost immediately evolves to desire for much more than simple cuddling. He needs more than just handholding to feel like he can get out of bed the next morning.

The women feel used, the men feel neglected, and no one wins in this tug o' war. For some reason, the pride of each gets in the way of reaching some common ground. Neither will talk to the other about their mutual unhappiness for fear of revealing too much of their most private self.

The natural contact between a husband and wife is sacred, like a sacrament in its holiness and something that can be incredibly gratifying emotionally and spiritually, as well as physically. But, how can it

come close to becoming a sacrament if either partner lacks thy faith and confidence in the other? How can there be faith if there is no trust and honesty?

As my husband runs the rope through my harness and ties the figure-8 knot that will hold my life, I reach over and touch his face with a smile of my own. My smile holds its own promise.

He takes the rope and threads it through his harness and the belay device. He double-checks the knots and all of the buckles in both harnesses and we run through the next words like they're a script: On belay. Climbing. Climb on. I approach the rock, look for a couple good places to put my hands and feet, reach into my chalk bag to give my hands more friction, take a deep breath, and start scaling the wall. The bottom is fairly easy going, the crack is wide enough for me to wedge my feet in with comforting firmness. I feel my confidence growing-this isn't bad. Why was I so frightened? This really isn't scary at all, look how easy each hold comes. My muscles feel like loaded springs and I climb with grace and assurance. I am but a mere 20 feet off the ground.

· My mind whirls back to a previous day and a previous climb, where we descended off a route called the Thumb. Owen and I came across a peculiar sight: a massive, granite boulder suspended in the spindly branches of a determined mountain mahogany. The tree had somehow grown around the rock, and before long, lifted and cradled the mass several feet off the ground. It looked as if a breath of air from the thermals of the retreating day could spell disaster to this strange alliance. The tree endured a huge burden while the rock rested, doing exactly what physics demanded of it. How much could the tree accept and bend before the weight of the union sends tremors of weariness, and maybe failure, through its branches? Epiphanies sometimes come at odd moments, and this flash of understanding must be one of the strangest for me: whose burden is greater, Owen's or mine? The crack gets smaller and smaller as I climb higher and it becomes more difficult to get good purchase with my feet. I'm fatiguing fast, and resting comes more frequently along with simply trying to figure out how to proceed. I yell down to Owen that I'm not sure what to

do next and that my arms are getting really tired. So far I've used opposing side pulls, which means my fingers are in the crack, back of my knuckles together, and pulling apart, kind of like a swimming motion. Owen shouts up that I need to do a "lie-back" since my feet don't fit in the crack anymore. This means to put my hands along the rock as if I were hanging onto the crack in a strong wind and shift my weight to one side. The problem with this suggestion is that a lie-back is a more difficult technical move, and there is absolutely no way I'm going to let go of the rock to make the shift. If I let go of the rock, I could fall. Falling is bad. Falling makes my heart come into my throat and then I want to throw it up. Falling is very bad.

The confidence of just a few moments ago has completely flown away. I'm not all that sure it was really even there now. I look down helplessly at my husband. This is clearly a gigantic mistake since it frightens me all the more to see how truly high up I am. The leg that bears most of my weight starts stuttering, going up and down like the needle in a sewing machine. The motion makes the

equipment in the loops of my harness jangle brightly, matcing the sound of my nerves. The rope that looked so sturdy on the ground looks far too thin to hold my weight. What if there is a flaw deep inside it? What if even now, the fibers have unraveled and will snap at the The natural contact between a husband and wife is sacred. But how can it come close to being a sacrament if either partner lacks the faith and confidence in the other?

least movement? What if there is an earthquake? That big rock up above my head will come crashing down on me and the route will at last be aptly named.

I do the only thing left for a woman in my predicament to do: I cry. Owen must either· have incredible hearing because I'm not crying that loud, or he is so much a part of me that he

can feel my fear. He calls up to me, "Kara, it's okay, I have you, you won't fall." It is NOT okay, I think furiously; it is most definitely not okay. My fingers are numb, the oxygen in the air has run away and I'm literally paralyzed by fear. My fear transforms into intense anger that he would deliberately put me in danger. Irrationally, I think that if he really loved me, I wouldn't be in this dilemma. I've conveniently forgotten that I came because I wanted to; it's far easier to blame him than to accept responsibility. He calls up again, "Kara. Listen to me. I have you."

He has me.

For nearly twenty years of marriage, he has seen me at my worst when I've raged at him during our numerous battles. He's loved me, although at times he must not have liked me much. He's endured my smelly body and greasy hair of 4-day camping trips and told me with a straight face that I'm beautiful. He's kissed my morningbreath enhanced lips and not only has he never winced, but came back for more~ He's traced the stretch marks on my belly and declared them beautiful. He's bragged that I'm the smmtest person he knows to so

many people, that I have to tell them he doesn't get out much. He believes that I can do anything, and because he believes, lean.

He has me. And he will have me forever. I climb.

Los Ojos

by Patrick Boice

Old and tired, his eyes depict a lifetime of stories untold. In the soft illumination of his glance I can see who I am.

I see my past. My name, my history, my family whose legacy I am chosen to carry on. The slow, peaceful blinks of his eye impress me to reflect on what it must have been like to have known this man; not as Father, but as my childhood friend. What was he like before I knew him? Was he like me?

How I would love to be able to spend one day with my father, the child.

But those days are past. And soon I will look into the eyes of a son all my own.

And the slow, rhythmic, tender blinking of his bright eyes, will take me to a time when this small babe will be passed this honor that I carry.

Miller Time

by Spencer W. Singleton

"Now, I don't want to get off on a rant here ... " are words familiar to anyone acquainted with Dennis Miller's late night cable talk show, "Dennis Miller Live." These words mark the beginning of a sarcastic rant about anything that has recently been on Miller's mind. During each show, Miller will wander out in front of a studio audience, begin with random jokes about cun-ent events and then launch into a topical rant. Afterward, a celebrity guest joins Miller to discuss the topic of the rant, although this discussion regularly wanders aimlessly.

While many comedians consistently poke fun at isolated groups of people, (i.e. Republicans, Democrats, the Religious Right), Miler has spent a better part of his eight seasons on television reminding his viewers that the American public frequently displays a common sense IQ equal to their respective shoe sizes. Here we will discuss his rant entitled "Dysfunction," from his first book, The Rants, where Miller attacks the popular belief that adult failures are a result of

treatment they received as a child and can be attributed to a wide array of mental illnesses; he further expresses irritation with the people who spend their lives fixated on their past injuries instead of shaking it off, drinking a Gatorade and getting back into the game.

Miller uses irony and sarcasm as parallel blades of the mythically mightier pen. His entire act is based on the irony of a highbrow intellectual that still finds inherent humor in profane language and lowbrow popular culture references. Miller dares to use vocabulary that may be above and beyond that of the average television talk show viewer. It is hard to imagine more mainstream hosts such as Jay Leno or David Letterman addressing an audience with a line like: "Sure, it's tough waking up from a deep REM delirium starring you as the focal point of the universe to an Eraserhead reality in which you're the condiment guy at Der Wienerschnitzel." Instead of shirking away from references to Eraserhead, a relatively obscure independent

film from David Lynch, Miller's fans embrace its quirkiness. Last year, Miller landed a gig on Monday Night Football, complete with obscure references. Simply by agreeing to this job, which many people felt was entirely foreign to him, Miller reinforced his ironic persona; dropping his unique brand of intelligent humor on football fans, a group stereotypically considered stupid. An encyclopedia website had a web technician watching the show so that, when Miller referenced something obscure, viewers could find the explanation on the website within seconds. It seems that Miller has not intellectually isolated his viewers; he has instead intellectually stimulated them.

Miller also tends to toss around ten-dollar words like a multi-millionaire dictionary at a strip club. "We have become a countly of ragged recidivists dedicated to the proposition that all parents are created equally bad and the progeny/progenitor dynamic should be the landfill for all our personal sh01tcomings." At this point, one can almost hear the pages shuffling in a thousand dictionaries; they embrace it. Miller could have

substituted words more commonly understood to relay a similar point, however he would have been bett·aying the irony he has established.

On the flip side, Miller commonly uses references to popular culture, perhaps his way of establishing that yes, he is smarter than most of us, but he's still an American who enjoys watching television and guiltily reading the tabloids while waiting in the supermarket check out line. "And now that we know you have more personal baggage than Joan Collins on safari, I think you should start coming in twice a day for the next four Olympics or so because I need to pay off my Lamborghini." Joan Collins is supposedly known as a glamorous woman, therefore would bring a large amount ofluggage with her on a safari. His use of the Olympics for a chronological reference is an unusual phrasing. Here again, Miller is focusing his audience to think, expecting them to figure out he is referring to a sixteen-year time period. Finally, Miller appeals to stereotypes, perhaps the least intelligent (therefore the most lowbrow) concept of humanity, of psychotherapists as money-hung1y witch doctors

who do nothing but create problems and rip people off.

"Every day we get a new escape hatch from the psychiatric community: co-dependency, addictive personality, inherent personality· disorder, multiple personality learning disorder, no personality whatsoever disorder, fetal membrane subcutaneous infectious submissive sexuality dislocator, Epstein Roseanne Barr .... For Christ's sake, we are going over a Niagara of psychobabble in a barrel full of holes." In this case, Miller's pop culture references are accompanied by an intravenous shot of sarcasm. He lists for us some popularly discussed mental disorders, slips in his disorder of those without a personality, strings together a meaningless list of words that simply sounds like a real disorder and ends with a barb at Roseanne Barr. With his invented diseases, Miller sarcastically, and subtly, suggests that perhaps the other mental disorders do not really exist anywhere other than, no pun intended, in the head of those who complain about them.

With the last reference to Epstein Barr, commonly known as Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, he inserts Roseanne's name in

the middle as both a clever play on words and an example of someone who seems like she should be chronically fatigued.

It seems that Miller has not intellectually isolated his viewers; he has instead intellectually stimulated them. Finally, he ends this paragraph by reinforcing the underlying theme that he has not necessarily bought a ticket to ride on the train of newly discovered mental illnesses.

Miller's use of sarcasm is a further reinforcement of this ongoing irony; many people stereotypically picture intellectuals as dry, humorless beings incapable of sarcasm. In this rant, his sarcasm is constant and consistent. " thanks to the notion of the dysfunctional family, every zipperhead in this country can now tap themselves with the Freudian wand and in a flash go from failed frog to misunderstood prince. Tad tubby? Mummy mistakenly thought food was love. You say

you're angry? Must have been your brother's midnight wedgie raids." Miller uses classic arguing tools here, dicing a complex concept into portions of small absurdity. "Hey Jinky, you shouldn't feel bad about flunking out of school and getting fired from the trampoline center. It's not your fault. It all goes back to when you were an embryo." Whenever Miller uses a name in a hypothetical story or situation of inherent stupidity, the name itself carries a weight of low intelligence, such as Jinky. He uses a "trampoline center" here as the past employer because it would seem that one would almost have to make a concerted effo11 to be terminated from that type of job.

Miller does seem to understand that no situation is black and white, but full of as many gray variations as a monochromatic pornography website. "Look, I'm not insensitive to the real victims of abuse, the human casualties of alcoholic neglect. There are people out there who have been dealt absolutely fucking brutal cards, and it breaks your heart ... But ... Let's be honest; too many unhappy, unfulfilled people see the bulletproof ex-

cuse of dysfunction lying there and pick it up like a cudgel to ward off any personal responsibility for their lives." While not used for laughs, the word "fucking" here is used appropriately for effect. The people he is talking about have not had difficult lives, they have had lives above and beyond difficult; lives where difficult is a distant happy memory of a better time long since dead. His expletive use here raises the intensity of the word brutal. In describing the dysfunctional excuse as bulletproof, Miller creates an interesting image. When discussing their lack of personal responsibility, people do tend to feel as if they are under attack. When failing at all you wanted to do in life, emotional bullets generally feel as if they are being fired by the personal demons in your head as well as the foot soldiers of family and friends around you. Warding off this attack requires an impenetrable device, and this excuse surely is such a device. Is it at all possible to prove that every single failing of your life is not, in some way, connected to your disappointments as a child? It does not seem possible to disprove such things and, therefore, that de-

fense is above and beyond reproach.

Ultimately, for all his sarcasm and cynicism, Miller retains one piece of knowledge for which his rants should be admired; he understands that his opinion is simply that, just an opinion. Just as each rant begins with the same tag line, they each end with "Of course, that's just my opinion, I could be wrong," or some minor variation upon that theme. Once a week, during his season, Miller has the opportunity to present his opinion with the authority of a deputy sheriff having pulled you over but, instead, reminds you his authority is closer to that of a mall security guard asking you to please leave your drink outside the store. So frequently, people forget that they are simply spouting an opinion; Miller seems continually aware of this. It is for that reason, above all else, that I admire his rants. They can inspire thought and perhaps even prompt discussion, but overall he is going for laughter and he knows that he only has a television show because he pulled a good number in the lottery of human existence.

Notoriety

by Tracy Turner

Under the watchful eye of my Father, I was the nice young girl he knew me to be, although my best friend knew different. Brenda and I have been fiiends since the sixth grade; we are so close it is as though we are sisters. Brenda was always the pretty one, everyone always noticed her, she had all the friends and boyfriends. With her long curly dark hair and bright blue eyes, you couldn't miss her. She lived in a trailer park and in the center of the park was a recreation center (the Hall, as we called it) for tenant use, that's where all the cool kids spent their time. It was dead of winter when Brenda and I would walk over to the Hall just to see if anyone was there.

This was a day like any other, cold and windy with snow everywhere. We headed out, our destination, The Hall. Upon entry, the humidity caused by the indoor swimming pool was overwhelming and the smell of chlorine was strong, but compared to the temperature outside it was a welcome change. I could hear music in

the background. Yes, I know that song, it's AC/DC, "Hell's Bells," a sure sign that someone cool is here. We continued walking in the direction the music came from to see who it was. Oh, It's Darrell! My heart raced and stomach quivered. I had such a crush on this boy that I could have just died every time I saw him, although he had no idea I was even alive. We came into view and he saw us, or should I say he saw Brenda. As we approached, he smiled, and a conversation erupted. They were talking about a new band, without even a glance in my direction.

This s01t of thing was happening all the time, and it was not just with Brenda and boys, but with our friends too. It not only hurt my feelings, it caused anger and resentment towards society; I was becoming increasingly angry, and constantly in trouble, at school, at parks, or on the streets, frequently inciting fights. I was not afraid of anyone or anything, except being invisible, the one thing I was unable to face. So intolerable of the simplest things, get-

ting the wrong order at McDonald's would send me into a rage, verbally abusing the person taking my order. Because I had little or no regard for the people around me, Brenda always hated to go anywhere with me, unless I promised to be nice.

Fifteen years has passed by. Although Brenda and I are still friends, we don't see each other often. We made plans to spend the day at her house; catching up was the agenda. The day slipped by us and before we

I was becoming increasingly angry.. .I was not afraid of anyone or anything, except being invisible.

knew it, it was suppertime.

"Do you want to stay and eat with us? We're going to cook out, probably just hamburgers and hot dogs."

"Yeah, I'd love to."

"Great, I have to go to the store. Will you wait here until

I get back?"

"Actually, I want to go, there's a couple of things I'd like to get." I pause, wait for a response, but she remains silent. "If you don't mind," I said.

"O.K. but let's get going," she sighed.

As we were walking in the store, a man waling in the opposite direction was looking at me with this intense stare. The kind of stare that keeps our eyes locked together until your paths cross and you can no longer see each other, unless you look back, taking a glance over your shoulder.

"Well!" Brenda exclaimed pleasantly, looking surprised. "Don't ask me, I have no idea what that was all about." I giggled. "I want to get some macaroni salad for dinner, so I'll be at the Deli," I said and walked away.

I came to the deli and as some delis are, the selection was small. They only had one tub of macaroni salad left, and it was on sale. Just as I approached the item, a woman stepped in front of me and snatched it. In her hasty and greedy maneuver, I was nearly knocked off my feet. I was upset; clearly, I had right of way. Brenda had finished her

shopping and had made her way to the deli just in time to witness this. I looked around and saw Brenda looking in our direction. The look on her face was one of fear and apprehension, for she knew what was coming next.

"Hey, I'm very sony, I have no idea how I missed you standing there," I falsely confessed. "Are you O.K?"

"Yes, I'm fine!" The woman snarled, as she stiffly walked away.

As Brenda and I approached the cashier, I could tell she wanted to say something, but she remained silent.

Therefore, I said, "Yeah, I'm nice to people now."

I finally realized that the attention received from being so mean all the time was not nearly as valuable as I had first thought it to be. I found that I don't have to be noticed by everyone to be someone. In fact, I don't really have to be noticed by anyone other than myself, and that realization brought back the simple things, like being nice.

Deciding the Fate of a Dam

by Thomas Kruger

All across the United States dams are falling in favor of river conservation and reclamation. Edwards Dam in Maine is one such notable example. Also many of the dams that straddle the great Columbia in the northwest have come under fire and are being considered for demolition. With this trend gaining momentum, many environmentalists have laced Glen Canyon Dam in their sights (Mcmanus). This dam and Lake Powell, which stretches 180 miles upriver from it, have been fought by environmentalists ever since their conception. In fact, Glen Canyon Dam came as a result of a compromise made between the Sierra Club and the Federal Government that saved part of Dinosaur National Monument in eastern Utah from becoming a lakebed. This anti-dam trend reflects a greater global awareness as to the importance of the environment. Though many dams are part of this debate I will talk here specifically about Glen Canyon Dam.

Being an avid outdoorsman and having spent much of my

life in the wilderness areas of Utah, I too am concerned for the Utah environment. Many of the environmental groups in Utah feel that Lake Powell cannot remain as a part of the ecosystem. Mostly their call for draining the lake is based on environmental concepts like the loss of the riparian (river basin) habitat that is now under water. I feel, however, that Lake Powell plays a very important role in Utah's economic and environmental well being. Again, one of the reasons that environmentalists have redoubled their efforts against Glen Canyon Dam is because of the momentum of the antidam movement across the nation. For example the abovementioned Edwards Dam was recently demolished in Maine. This particular dam was built in the face of concern that it may be detrimental to the salmon population in the area. The dam was completed in 1837 and stool until the fall of 1999 ("A Brief History"). One of the major events that resulted in the removal of the dam was when the Federal Energy Regulatory

Commission (FERC) denied Edwards Dam the required license renewal to generate energy. Some of the other dams that have come down in recent years include the Quaker Neck Dam in North Carolina and a small dam in southern California called the Western Canal Dam. All of these dams came down with good reasons. The Edwards dam, for example, not only blocked the river for spawning salmon, but the energy produced there was being sold at prices three times the market value. In that situation, the value of inexpensive hydroelectric energy was lost on greedy men. The other dams began to be more economically burdensome than beneficial, which made their removal necessary and good for the sake of the environment. These arguments, however, cannot be applied to Glen Canyon Dam.

Many residents in the west have come to depend on the power that Glen Canyon Dam generates. Most of these people live in rural areas where power would be much more expensive if it had to come from more distant sources. Nearby, there is the coal-fired Navajo Generating Station that also provides some power for the area, but in

the absence of Lake Powell this facility would not be able to produce energy at its full capacity. There are two reasons for this. First, the necessary water would not be readily available as it is now. Without the lake, river water would have to be pumped from the Glen Canyon floor 700 feet below. That's assuming, of course, that there is water in the river. Particularly dry years would leave the facility almost without water. Also without the dam, many of the residents that work at the power plant would not be there. The area's economic strength in Lake Powell, and the families who depend on the lake would be forced out of the area. Unlike the conditions associated with the other major dams that have come down, the people in southern Utah, Arizona, and part of Nevada, again, have few options as to where they can get their power. Some of the more distant power customers, those who live in southern California and other parts of Nevada, will also be affected. More than one million people depend on the power generated by the Navajo Generating Station and Glen Canyon Dam together ("More at Stake"). In 2000 and 2001 the California Independent Sys-

tern Operator (ISO), which operates under FERC, experienced many brownouts due to lack of sufficient energy. As a result, some coal-fired plants in California that had been closed because they didn't meet the strict clean air requirements were re-opened. Hydroelectric power is always a cleaner alternative than coal power, and Glen Canyon Dam plays its part in producing that power for the west.

Environmentalists also say that costs of recreation on the lake do not justify it. One person who was especially vocal about this is the late Edward Abbey. In his essay, "Damnation of a Canyon," he described Lake Powell as being a playground exclusively for the rich. Looking upon Lake Powell, and its boaters, with contempt, Abbey rues the point that side canyons, once only accessible on foot, can now be reached by motorboat- as long as you have the money to buy one. It seems that he feels that the once divine Glen Canyon has now been cheapened, and can now be seen by those who wouldn't be willing to mal<:e the sacrifice that used to be necessary in order to explore her deepest reaches.

Abbey is partly right. Glen Canyon was one of the most exquisite examples of the beauty of Mother Nature, but Lake Powell isn't so hard to look at either. Each year millions are drawn to Lake Powell in search of famous red rock cliffs, quiet side canyons, and water so warm it feels like an extension of your own skin. While it is true that there's not much you can do at Lake Powell without some kind of watercraft, people still flock there like birds migrating towards warmer weather. As I said, this lends tremendous strength to the economy in southern Utah and northern Arizona because those millions that come each year bring about $400 million to spend. That much is just the revenue at Page, Arizona, which neighbors the dam. Besides that area there are concerns that come from the houseboat industry in the west, which, without Lake Powell, would lose a massive portion of its business (Smede).

Mr. Abbey also speaks in his essay about making the trip to Rainbow Bridge in one of the lake's side canyons something that can be reached by the lazy rich who wouldn't be willing to make the six-mile hike that used

to be necessary. He calls it "the wheelchair ethos of the wealthy" (132). In "Glen Canyon Dammed" Thelma Hall Towle describes a trip that was taken on a tour boat to see the famed Rainbow Bridge. She makes particular mention of a certain woman who had become enchanted with the rock formation. For years she had wanted to see it, but because of some health issues her family had convinced her that she was not up to the trip. In 1965 Lake Powell had only been filling for two years, and was still far from what we now see today, but even then the trail to Rainbow

Glen Canyon was one of the most exquisite examples of the beauty of Mother Nature, but Lake Powell isn't so hard to look at either. Bridge had been reduced to only one mile and a half, so this woman resolutely decided to go. These are Towle's words describing the experience of that woman: "If nine people who would not have seen Rain-

bow Bridge under the old circumstances can now see it, and if one out of those nine is as elated as she, then I and others who so deeply regret the changes can certainly feel the sacrifice of primitiveness has been in a good cause" (qtd. in Farmer 128).

As far as emotional attachment to the place goes, there are just as many people who love Lake Powell, indeed if not more, as there are those who love Glen Canyon. Many Utahns see Lake Powell as a place of bonding where they have spent considerable time building strong family ties and making enduring memories. So often "recreation" is taken lightly as something irresponsible and even damaging, but the kind of recreation that can be found at Lake Powell is just the kind that binds families and friends together.

Recreation and power aside, the real driving force behind the movement to drain Lake Powell lies in the environmental concerns. As mentioned earlier, the loss of the ripruian habitat that once existed in Glen Canyon is a major prut of the debate. CmTently 180 miles of the Colorado river bed is under Lake Powell, not to mention at

least that much in the side canyons, some of which had tributaries and some of which simply filled up along with the lake. Also environmentalists state that because of a phenomenon known as siltation (the process of a man-made reservoir filing with silt and other debris arrived into it by its tributary river) occurring in Lake Powell, it should be drained.

The habitat that existed in Glen Canyon before inundation was, as stated, no less than spectacular. If you would like to get an idea as to what it was like then you should visit the portion of the Colorado river that lies just a few miles below the dam. There cottonwood trees grow tall and are used for nesting by a bird known as the Yellow-Billed cuckoo; cottonwoods are also one of the favorite dishes of the beaver that live in the Colorado. Other forms of wildlife are abundant, including fish in the stream and many other plants and animals (Ostapuk). So many environmentalists long to have Glen Canyon back the way it was, hence the harsh battle that has ensued. The fact that a huge habitat was lost when Glen Canyon was filled is unarguable, and to do so would be

foolishness, but to think that by removing the waters that now reside there Glen Canyon can

So often "recreation" is taken as something irresponsible, but the kind of recreation that can be found at Lake Powell is just the kind that binds families and friends together.

ever be returned to its pristine state also approaches foolishness. Unfortunately, Lake Powell wasn't always as well managed as it is now, and as a result the canyon floor is dirty. I don't say this to suggest that it's better to leave the filth buried in the depths of the lake than to deal with it, but to show that Glen Canyon has been forever changed. Should the decisions to drain Lake Powell be made, it would take 18 years for the water to fully recede, after that would begin a lengthy and expensive process of cleanup. Edward Abbey suggests that

"Within the lifetime of our children Glen Canyon and the living river, heart of the canyonlands, will be restored to us" (133). Part of the process would be completed by nature, but the bulk would have to be done by man. Among the debris on the lake bed would be the remains of sunken boats, dead trees, and other pollutants. It is clear that no matter what was done, Glen Canyon is in-eversibly changed.

The Lake Powell that exists today is also a habitat for many different species. Since the construction of Glen Canyon Dam, the population of beavers downstream has increased partly as a result of flood control (Ostapuk). Along the shores of the lake above the dam, many bird species have found excellent homes, and each year more birds are discovering the area. One notable resident of Lake Powell is the Bald Eagle. This and many other kinds of hawks are frequently seen overhead from the water. The habitat in Glen Canyon wasn't decimated as so many claim, but it was changed and is now home to more fish and bird species than Glen Canyon was before the dam.

Earlier I briefly mentioned

the siltation process that is occuning in the lake, but I feel it is important to fmther address the issue, as it is a weighty portion of the argument to drain. A few years ago a report was published that Glen Canyon was filling with silt. This was to be expected since the Colorado has lots of silt. It was given its name by Spanishspeaking explorers who saw that the sandstone deposits in the river gave it a unique color, thus the name, Colorado or colored. When this report was published environmentalists ran with it and wanted to make it sound like Glen Canyon would soon be little more than a large hole filled with sand. This isn't true, though. Sonar testing in Lake Powell has shown that at the cun-ent rate of siltation Glen Canyon should be filled within about 700 years, assuming none of the silt left through the dam. A certain amount of this silt and debris can simply pass through the jet tubes in the bottom of the dam and move on to provide this fertile silt to the downstream customers like the beaver. If left unchecked, the silt level will eventually reach a point that will make power generation at the dam impossible, but that most likely will not

happen since technology exists to remove the silt, and that process would be cheaper than the cost to remove the dam.

The fact that we as Americans are becoming more concerned about the environment is a great sign and I hope the trend continues. The questions of whether to build or not build dams is being evaluated very differently today than it was in the early part of the twentieth century, and much more environmental initiative is being taken. Also, while it has been good to remove some of the dams that stand in the U.S., removing Glen Canyon Dam would not be the best option. Too many people depend on Lake Powell for their livelihood, and millions more depend on the resources that are made available there. Cost-benefit analyses are always necessary when contemplating the possibility of building a dam, and likewise, they are necessary when removing the dam. As it stands now, the costs outweigh the benefits and Glen Canyon Dam will stand for many more years.

Works Cited

"A Brief History of the Edwards Dam."

<http:// www.state.me.us/spo/ edwards/timeline.htm> 4/9/ 2002

Abbey, Edward. "Damnation of a Canyon." Beyond the Walls: Essays from the Outside. 1971. Rpt. Ramage, John D. and Bean, John C .. The Allyn and Bacon Guide to Writing. Massachusetts: Ally and Bacon, 2000.

Farmer, Jared. Glen Canyon Dammed: inventing Lake Powell and the canyon country. The University of Arizona Press. 1999. Towle, Thelma Hall. "Arizona Highways." 1965

Friends of Lake Powell. <www.lakepowell.org> 4/16/ 2002

Glen Canyon Institute.

<www.glencanyon.org> 4/ 16/ 2002

Mcmanus, Reed. "Down come the Dams." Sierra. May-June, 1998

<www.findarticles.com/cf_0/ ml 525/n3 _ v83/20557775/

print.jhtml> 4/7/2002

"More At Stake than Waterskiing." Editorial The Arizona Republic 16 July, 2000. <http://www.arizonarepublic .com/special 16/aiticles/ 0417canyondam.html> 4/15/ 2002

Ostapuk, Paul. Appreciating Lake Powell. <www.lalce powell.net> 4/15/2002

Smede, Steve. "Debating the Drain." lMay, 2000

<www.houseboatmagazine.com/ a1ticles.cfm/artid/1587> 4/15/ 2002

Paradoxical Confusion

by Keith Matthew Phillips, II

If there is one thing that drives me crazy

It's that you can make me cry

It seems so out of character

For one as brave as I.

And it doesn't seem quite fitting

To your gentle disposition

For you've been quite forgiving

Of my careless inquisition. But still the tears do flow

From this hopeless situation

Since both giver and receiver

Seem more fitted for elation. Yet from our flawed association

We will soon derive

The involuntary slights

That make a brave man cry.

Is it a malleable, unfixed fate

That cause these tears to flow?

And if this be how we are made, How do we unmake it so?

What is the Ideal Form of Government?

by Alma Smoot

Democracy is commonly accepted to be the best form of government. Nevertheless, its wider applications are recent, making it hard to fully grasp the impact on society. The fall of communism did not necessarily equate with an expansion of western values. In fact, surveys show that post-communist citizens were happier under their socialist regime. Therefore, we can rightly say that in the postWorld War II era, democracies have failed to expand and demonstrate their superiority. In these times of uncertainty, one should ask what form of government would better serve mankind. The first point worth emphasizing, contrary to Hegel's teaching, is that history is not the story of progress, but the rise and the fall of "great" nations. Time will tell which one is most appropriate. In light of the fall of the Berlin wall, we must study which form of government can provide the greatest amount of equality, liberty, and happiness. Using history as our laboratory, we should compare democracy to monarchy, mixed forms of govern-

ment, and oligarchic systems. Western countries rightly c1iticize undemocratic regimes. Strangely, very few of us really know what democracy is all about. The most notorious definition comes from Lincoln: ''The government of the people, by the people, and for the people." This concept originates from the Athenians. Indeed, they believed democracy to be a combination of "isegoria" (the equality of all citizens to address the assembly) and "isonomia" (the equality of all citizens to be nominated to the assembly). Despite the validity of these two concepts, they are incomplete. Indeed, with these definitions, the USSR would have been considered a democracy since the vanguard paiiy was composed of working class elites, and positive liberties reached unprecedented levels. Yet, we all know they had virtually no negative liberties (negative means the absence of government intervention). Democracy's main chai·acteristics are a peaceful transfer of power and the absence of wai·

between them. A major difficulty in a democracy is to determine who are the people. Are they restricted to only citizens, males, females, those of legal age, or those with education? I would tend to believe that all foreigners paying taxes should be allowed to vote. At the present time, the right to vote is basically a birthright, based on the remains of our feudal past. For those who took a class in anthropology or public law, they should know that rights were given in exchange of obligations. The most common task was for men to join the armed forces for a couple of years in their early years of manhood, and in case of exterior threat. In fact, this is why men only were considered citizens. Today, very few of us work for the army; therefore we must reward rights for something else. The question worth asking is what have I done for my country to deserve those rights. Fact is, not much except paying taxes. Therefore, whoever pays taxes should be given the right to vote.

Another problem in a democracy is to define whether it is a direct or an indirect power. If we push the principle of democracy to the extreme, it

should be direct. This is the stand taken by Jean Jacques Rousseau. Indeed, he believed that those elected should not be given a mandate; they should, therefore, not be allowed to go against the majority's will. This vision is utopian, since it would require all citizens to be fulltime politicians. With the exception of a few cantons in Switzerland and Iceland, we all opted for a representative democracy based on the principle of indirect democracy developed by Montesquieu.

Furthermore, according to Nagle, "democracy is the right to dissent against authority and the right to be different - to choose among real choices"

( 111 ). If we follow this line of thought, which I personally approve, are two parties enough?

In fact, if we examine the major western countries, none of them were founded on the principle of democracy. Only landowners were allowed to vote initially. Today, in the United States of America, the presidential election is not fully democratic as a result of the Electoral College. Likewise, in France, only about two percent of the population elects the senate. Moreover, a democratic regime should not need a bicameral

parliament since one chamber should sufficiently represent the will of the people. The best way to diminish power is to divide it.

Rosa Luxemburg added her own stone to the edifice. She stated that "democracy is the practical right to be in the minority and not be suppressed" (Nagle 112). In this respect, it fully concords with Alexis de Tocqueville and Larry Flynt who asse11 that "Majority rule only works if you're also considering individual rights. Because you can't have five wolves and one sheep voting on what to have for supper." Democracy can really bring about "the tyranny of the majority" (Tocqueville 258). For instance, in America, black segregation was a choice. Fm1hermore, Hitler came democratically to power, and the colonies of Great Britain, France, Netherlands, Portugal, and Spain were voluntarily based on the principal of exploitation. Even today, discrimination still persists. In France, transsexuals and illegitimate children are still denied some basic rights. Likewise, in the United States, gay discrimination precludes entrance into the army. In this respect, democracy is not dif-

ferent from aristocracy. It is still the law of the jungle.

Conservatives, such as Burke, also consider democracy to be dangerous because it "levels" society. Those at the bot-

As Churchill said, "the biggest argument against democracy is a fiveminute discussion with the average voter."

tom rise very little, while those at the top are lowered tremendously. Concerning the role of education, Jefferson believed that a democracy could never be reached without an educated population. Unfortunately, even countries with a comprehensive educational system in theory, create class channeling in practice.

Democracy promotes mediocrity, precisely because it celebrates equality. "No one will stand out to rise above the crowd, for fear of being accused of putting on airs and trying to be better than anyone else" (Ball 35). In concrete terms,

when given the choice, people tend to choose entertainment over art. This concords with Plato and Aristotle who state that democracy is dangerous since people are ignorant and envious. Their lack of education would put demagogues in power who in turn may become tyrants. As Churchill said, "the biggest argument against democracy is a five minute discussion with the average voter." As shocking as it may sound, those arguments are basically com~ct. Of course, from my personal experience, before switching from biology to political science, I was not aware of any concepts and ideas that govern politics. Likewise, in class, the professor asked twenty-five students what portion of our GDP was allotted to foreign aid. Those statistics had been published in all the major newspapers days before. No one was able to answer. How can you ask a carpenter to practice openheart surgery? When we do not know, we should keep quiet and then find the answer.

In addition, democracies have demonstrated their inability to evolve rapidly. Indeed, many great steps forward were not achieved by parliament, but followed strikes or riots. For

instance, the abolishment of slavery did not come through ballots, but bullets. Likewise, civil wars were required to obtain independence from colonial powers during the pre- and postWorld War II era. Furthermore, if we examine the European Union, we see that it obliges its members to change unjust laws. Countries lose in sovereignty, and therefore in democracy, but they gain in personal freedom. The opposite argument is also true in respect to NAFTA's chapter eleven. Despite these drawbacks, democracies protected individual rights to an extent never previously achieved. Some might argue that democratic regimes have never failed, because they have never existed. In fact, they are correct; democracy is in quest of itself. It is an ideal toward which we strive, but can never reach. The main threat is our journey, not the goal. Democracy is "like fire: it must be kept under control and put to good use" (Ball 91).

Oligarchy, the government of the few, is probably the most common form of government. To be sure, even liberal democracies are nothing but elaborate forms of oligarchy. Historically, we chronologically went

through aristocracy, plutocracy, and now, we are tending, with some setbacks, toward meritocracy. As time went by, ,ITistocracy, literally "the government of the best," became affiliated with landowners and bitthright. Their wealth was based upon inheritance. Consequently, they had the leisure to study and learn about politics. Their ties to the land created a sense of patriotism. In fact, aristocracy is the keystone of conservatism. It brings stability, since the aristocracy's belongings were all inherited. It represents quite a materialistic conception of human nature; it suited many of them well.

Furthermore, Tocqueville was a fervent defender of aristocratic government. He believed that "The mass of the people may be led astray by ignorance or passion; the mind of a king may be biased and made to vacillate in his designs, and, besides, a king is not immortal. But an aristocratic body is too numerous to be led astray by intrigue, and yet not numerous enough to yield readily to the intoxication of unreflecting passion. An aristocracy is a firm and enlightened body that never dies" (236).

Almost all modern ideo-

logues would not consider aristocracy to be the best form of government, since it is only based on biithright. Actually, they held to the position that their right to govern was ordained of God, since it was the only way to justify it.

As trade expanded, the bourgeoisie enriched itself with fortunes surpassing those of kings. Wars were costly, and kingdoms had to borrow money. In return for their service, the bourgeoisie received rights. In fact, the aristocracy was replaced by a plutocracy. The right to vote was given only to property owners. This ideology makes sense, since the people with money have the best opportunity to receive an education. Consequently, they are the most capable to govern. This philosophy predominates in western countries. For example, in the USA, big tax loopholes only benefit the higher class, while the middle class does not have sufficient capital to profit from it (Nagle 85). Likewise, in France and Italy, although no such thing exists, fraud of the rich is tolerated. Furthermore, for the same crime, white-collar workers are less likely to be convicted, and when they are, they receive

lighter sentences. In regimes where inheritance is authorized, plutocracy creates the same effect as an aristocracy. It is still very much a birthright. Our regimes are as close to plutocracy as they are to democracy. Even though we have universal suffrage, our first amendment is obtained at a cost, not only social, but mainly financial.

As we have just seen, an aristocracy and a plutocracy are not desirable for society, since they create injustice and are based on birthright. Nevertheless, an oligarchic system invented a viable, and in some ways, a likeable form of government: a meritocracy. Its origin stems from the writings of Marx and his famous sentence: "From each according to his ability, to each according to his needs." People are rewarded for the work they furnish, for the improvement they achieve. Sadly, this philosophy faces many practical barriers. First and foremost, it is not objectively possible to determine who deserves the most. Some of the 18 th and 19 th century thinkers came up with an interesting alternative. They wanted to give every citizen the right to vote, but the ballots of those with higher education would

count .double or even triple. Even though it is an amusing way to address the problem, it does not take into consideration the inequalities in education. Secondly, it can still bring about the tyranny of the few. There is no certitude that those in power will serve the common good. Meritocracy, in theory, is probably the best form of government since only those who accomplish something, i.e., those with knowledge, are allowed to vote. We do not reward undeserving citizens.

Meritocracy, in theory, is probably the best form of government. Unfortunately, this system is inconceivable because we are not provided equal opportunities to succeed. Unfortunately,

this system is inconceivable because we are not provided equal opportunities to succeed.

Among the five largest re-

ligions on earth, three believe in the return of a Messiah who will govern the world. Indeed, Islam, Judaism, and Christianity praise a monarchy with God as their king. Some would argue that Christianity favors democracy since we are all "God's sons."

In this respect, the New Testament is incoherent because it also states that one must render to Caesar what belongs to Caesar, and to God what belongs to God. Furthermore, St. Paul also asserts that authority is a statement of Godliness. Therefore, all authority comes from him. If we follow those lines of thought, the Bible praises all forms of government.

What is more, Tocqueville defended such a form of monarchy stating that "God alone can be omnipotent, because his wisdom and his justice are always equal to his power" (260). The danger with this manner of thinking is that we are all serfs or slaves to our "lord." All critical thinking and debate are stifled since there is an absolute truth. In the LDS beliefs, before coming on earth, a fight arose between Christ and Satan. Lucifer wanted to force humans to do what is right. Christ be-

lieved free agency was more important. Although incoherent when placed in the perspective of Christianity, it still reveals one of the most important aspects of God: He is the one who frees you. Consequently, any intervention from Him in our lives would be contrary to His principles. As attractive as it may sound, a theocracy is inconceivable, defying the definition of God himself. We have just seen how a democracy, an oligarchy and a monarchy are far from being flawless. Some philosophers, such as Machiavelli and Aristotle, came up with an alternative. To be sure, they believed that a combination of the three would promote the advantages of each without their inconveniences. This mixed form of government would be founded on the principle of checks and balances. Aristotle called such a system a "polity." For English speaking countries, it represents a republic. By definition, the word "republic" comes from the Romans and their "respublica," meaning "public affairs" as opposed to monarchic affairs. Furthermore, the American constitution, and in fact all those of western countries, were

founded on this principle. Indeed, the one is represented by the president, the few by the senate, and the many by the house. The purpose of such a system is to divide power, and make sure that none go beyond their bounds. The main disadvantage is a lack of effectiveness.

In conclusion, there is no ideal form of government. It is nothing but a tool in human hands. Nevertheless, when we take a look at France, Germany, Japan, Sweden, Switzerland, United Kingdom, and the United States, it appears that Sweden is the country that has achieved the greatest amount of equality and liberty. Even though it is almost impossible to assess levels of happiness, I tend to believe that it is relative. Indeed, if your neighbor is rich and you are poor, you will probably feel unsatisfied. Therefore, I would have to conclude that Sweden has provided the greatest amount of happiness. To be sure, Sweden is the western country that spends the greatest proportion of their budget on education. As we previously said, without an educated population, a democracy cannot be reached. What is more, high spending in education assures

students more equality to succeed. Moreover, in a recent survey, Sweden ranked 6th in health care. To put it in perspective, the USA ranked 17 th and Great Britain 23 rd• Sweden is in second place· for both longest life expectancy and lower infant mortality. Furthermore, they spend a considerable part of their GDP on welfare programs. As a result, Sweden is the liberal democracy that achieved the greatest amount of income equality. Concerning gender disparities, once again they ranked first for both numbers of women in political life and in higher education. Finally, Sweden has the best human rights ratings (Nagle 114).

It may be the time for us to put our pride aside and begin to imitate the Scandinavians' systems. In other words, we need to increase our spending on education, reduce income differential, increase certain welfare programs and perhaps put an end to our bicameral parliament. Sweden has a unicameral congress, which probably explains why it is so effective and yet democratic.

Works Cited

Ball, Terence, and Richard Dagger. Political Ideologies and the Democratic Ideal. 4th ed. Arizona State University: Longman, 2002.

Churchill, Winston. Dictionary of Quotations. 8 march 2002 http://www. quotationreference.com.

Flynt. Larry. Dictionary of Quotations. 8 march 2002

http://www.Ba1tleby.com.

Marx, Karl. Columbia Quotations. 24 april 2002

http://www.Bartleby.com.

Nagle, John Introduction to Comparative Politics. 5th ed. Chicago: Nelson-Hall Publishers, 1998

de Tocqueville, Alexis. Democracy in America. Volume I. New York: Vintage Classics, 1990.

A Letter to Van Gogh

by Sheena Goss

August is unusually silent this year. The waves are dullreclining, sinking and fading between the rocks and sands of the French shore.

Pudgy children replace the twinkling asterisks of their eyes with empty shades of brown and blue, no emotion can be deduced from ordinary hues like these.

The cafe terrace provides no forum or creative womb to conceive and develop artistic ideas around dimly lit tables.

Inside your simple bedroom, the corners of your brick-red blanket are tucked firmly beneath the mattress. Translucent green windows will not be cracked open today. No one will realign the crooked family portraits hanging above your bed.

do you still have nightmare visions of crows weeping through cornfields, feeding you inspiration?

Perhaps this comfort of madness was your terminal cancer accompanying artistic genius.

If I could, I would offer you some solace, place the glowing spheres of your devout village in the palm of your hand, bring you sunflowers to ease the storm clouds in your head and heart, prevent any canvas halo from ever surrounding your body.

The Ivory Saint

by Crystal Lowder

The sun is the hottest thing, like living in an oven.

"Did you ever dream you'd be in India in January, Sara York?" Tyrane, my guide, said tome.

"That's easy for you to say," I muttered, wiping sweat from my forehead and brushing vines out of my view in the hot jungle. Not even the blackening shade cooled this place off. I was surprised Tyrane didn't take me to a swamp or something with moisture.

Born and probably ah-eady died here, Tyrane was completely a jungle saint, belonging in a village telling tales rather than guiding dumb students through masses of mosquito-infested greenery called "an education." His dark skin must have gotten darker from living in old Delhi alone. Me, my skin was just getting more and more freckled and my red hair, which had been the natural and alluring color of radishes when I left New Jersey, was not probably somewhere between orange and whiteProbably from shock and certainly not from the sun, be-

cause you couldn't really see any sun unless you were near a swamp where the trees cleared.

I hadn't seen my hair lately, actually. Tyrane chose to keep all the foreign students in tents so that if those tents were tom down in the middle of the night by a bear or taken residency by snakes we'd go home and never come back. Save Tyrane the bother of feeding us, a task well worth kudos-maybe a bowl of that ugly stew-like slop he fed us.

Right now, I was the only student left, probably because I dislike my hair so much. I didn't mind living in a ten without a mirror.

And my hair was so fine like a baby's that it never got tangled. Somehow I got scratched on the arms and scraped on the legs by everything on a jungle trek-stationary or otherwise-but my hair stayed perfectly smooth and pretty. I was jealous.

Trekking through the jungle for hours three days in a row. Those other students gave up way too fast if you ask mepretty soon you aren't scanning

the trees looking for a Macaw.

Pretty soon all you're doing is looking ahead and around you for something that might find you particularly appetizing.

Well, I wore light clothes, khaki shorts and a thick, khaki, short-sleeved shirt, my canteen and daypack being heavy enough as they were, while Tyrane didn't carry anything and duded in this long coat that could have passed for my grandmother's ancient drapery.

Tyrane himself could have passed as my ancient grandfather.

But even though malaria could have been an issue-and certainly was an issue-I did enjoy the sights and sounds of the thick jungle. It felt like being in a zoo, only in reverse. The sounds of monkeys were there but instead of feeling like a strong, condescending human being I felt more like an exhibition.

Finally, that familiar smell of mud and muck and the sound of mnning water.

"Tyrane, do we have a net?" I asked. They made good bridges sometimes, a fact few people know.

"It's only waist deep," Tyrane said.

We'll both be wasted if an

alligator eats us, I thought. Why did I even bother majoring in anthropology?

Tyrane in his robes waded into the swamp and I followed, keeping a close eye on the water- which I couldn't see a millimeter into, it being so muddy. I said a prayer and tried to think of what I would tell my mom when I visited her as a ghost. "No, ma, it didn't hurt when the alligator got me. It just KILLED ME!"

I closed my eyes as Tyrane pulled me out on the other side. "I feel like and angel," I said.

Tyrane laughed. "You don't look like one."

We kept going. I guess we were heading to another village that day. We saw a lot of jungle natives and it was my job to watch them collect grass, push their kids around ... In New Delhi, if I'd chickened out like the other students, I could have been teaching Shakespeare in one of their steamy classrooms-maybe even one of the air-conditioned ones-right that very minute. Or be on lunch break.

Tyrane pulled out his map. It had been sort of sunny at the swamp but we were on our way back into the darkness again.

"I've never been there," he explained, when he saw me staring at him.

"How did you find out we needed a new place?" I demanded.

"I got a call this morning."

"Did I get any calls this morning?" I asked. Changes in plans weren't unusual for college professors, even in India (it's a small world and we've all one common weaknesswe 're human.) But phone calls out in the middle of the jungle were rare-for college professors and otherwise.

"Nope, your parents disowned you when you took this course," Tyrane replied, returning the map to his robe.

That was certainly true. Any parent would disown their 22-year-old daughter for going off to India to tromp through a hot, sweltering, sticky jungleeven I would.

Twenty minutes later we found a hut. It was completely empty, except for some spider webs I examined inside it.

"Someone else lives here," I said. "And they walk kind of slow for eight legs."

Tyrane looked worried.

"That doesn't ... " he muttered.

I didn't ask but I wanted to.

"Hmm," was all else he said.

We found another hut about fifty feet away completely set upon by something. It was totally destroyed. "A tiger," Tyrane guessed.

"Oh," I replied. "That's nice. I guess we were worried about our own lives all for nothing."

Tyrane gave me a sideways glance. "With Tiger around we are nothing," he said, sounding once again like a story-weaver from Cairo's tenements.

All we could do was just feel sorry for the people who once lived there-and keep moving.

"We should have seen the whole place by now," Tyrane said with a cheerful smile.

I smiled more cheerfully than he did and even laughed. Then he turned back at me and glared and I stopped smiling. "A joke," he said solemnly.

I nodded.

We stayed in the sunlight trickling in through the treetops as long as we could until finally it was hopeless.

"I thought we were going to a village," I said, trying not to whine like all the other students.

Tyrane hadn't said any-

thing about my disposition yet, but he probably thought it was too early to decide if I deserved a grant.

Tyrane instead kept walking. I felt sick. The people at the village would have fed us, I thought.

Tyrane heard my stomach growl.

"Listen," he said, stopping. "I heard a noise."

We crouched instinctively. Nothing happened.

My stomach growled again.

"Listen," Tyrane repeated.

"To my stomach?" I whispered.

"It's the tiger," he said.

I figured he was pulling one on me. Very funny, I thought, pushing past him.

"Catch up," I said.

"Roar!"

Did I really run that fast? I glanced behind me only enough to see a flash of orange and red and Tyrane's mouth tum into a little "O". I was off.

The cat must have knocked Tyrane down and chased after the object that moved because I was also being followed.

''I'll have you arrested," I thought, racing like mad through whatever was ahead of me.

This is stupid! I halted and

fell to the earth. I was an idiot for listening to my stomach and not my surroundings twentyfive seconds ago.

The tiger's teeth came crashing into my back and side, ripping the flesh. I screamed as soon as the air hit it. The tiger tripped over my body and fell on his side briefly. Then he crashed himself back at me and succeeded in turning me stomach-up. Here goes, I thought, I'm finally dying.

Suddenly the tiger jumped sideways and took off running deeper into the jungle. I heard oncoming noises at my left and called out to them.

"Tyrane," I said. "Oh, this hmis!"

Something dark brushed my face and blmTed my vision.

"Tyrane?" It was an elephant.

The trunk felt all over my eyes and nose and down onto my stomach. Then it beat my ripped side.

"Oh!" I screamed.

It did that again. Like a baby doll crying Mama I yelled "Oh!"

I guessed it liked the sound because it beat me a couple of more times before I finally rolled over onto my stomach. At least now I couldn't see the

flies all around me waiting to eat my remains.

The elephant started prodding my injuries with its trunk. I figured I would be dead soon anyway if not from the injuries, or from the prodding, then from the awful weeds sticking inside my mouth and poisoning me.

Finally, I felt some dirt and vines being placed on the bites and although it stung the vines felt cool and wet. It didn't take me long to figure out they had landed on me after the elephant had sucked on them a moment earlier.

Who is this ivory saint? I wondered.

For good luck it beat me with its trunk one more time to hear if I was still alive (and I was just as surprised, if not more so, than it was) before tromping off somewhere in the jungle.

Looking back, it would have been funny if it had accidentally stepped on me after the rescue.

No, Mom, my ghost would say. / keep telling you-it wasn't a tiger that killed me, it was an elephant.

Tyrane found me and built a camp near the spot of the attack, where we stayed just long enough to get my injuries

wrapped up before backtracking to civilization for some real medical treatment, not that Tyrane didn't prove helpful.

"I keep telling you, Tyrane," I said, "It wasn't a tiger that knocked out that hut. It was an elephant! The tiger injured the owners and the elephant saved them-the same way he saved me."

But, Tyrane told me I was delirious, and was lucky to have been conscious enough to know which weeds to place on my cuts. "And not the poisonous kinds, either," he added.

"Elephants know what kinds aren't poisonous 'cause they eat them," I muttered, feeling defenseless and drowsy.

I left for New Delhi the next day and within a week I was feeling well enough to start observing schools, even ones with air-conditioning. The sun was still hot and the air was still crusty.

And nobody believed me about the ivory saint. But frankly, I didn't talk about it much either.

Moon Conceptions

by Sheena Goss

Puddle of s01row unsure at dusk. Inconspicuous grin has Recesses and peaks of Abundant icy rock.

Silver valleys full of secret, now vigorous smile

Breathes life

Onto night's canvas

Melancholy dance causes

Shedding and bleeding of pale skin, Moon pieces become star puzzles.

Somber reflection entices eyesNot with soft yellow afternoon rays

But with cold provocative glow For midnight's flashlight.

Delicate halos of white, yellow, powder blue Worn as garments of linen swirling around spherical body.

Deceitful disc of dual nature is not Celestial glabrous globe, but Rigid and varied rock, craggy surface

Piercing sky's skin.

Fill my mind with wonder and devotion, Talcum-covered frozen desert, Move like clock through Evening's ocean.

Sleekest silver pearl

Sleeping in heaven's arms.

Friendship in the Philosophy of Heqnan Hesse

by Golda Hukic

Friendship is a common theme of many different writers. I chose to introduce ideas of my favorite German author, Herman Hesse, because of their uniqueness. It is impossible to understand Hesse without taking a look at the opinions of Nietzsche, his favorite philosopher, who is mentioned in most of his books. Both men wrote about loneliness as the hardest experience in life, and praised friendship as a salvation. Here is how Nietzsche in his book Thus Spoke Zarathustra_describes the importance of friendship. "I and me are always too deep in conversation: how could one stand that is there were no friend? For the hermit the friend is always the third person: the third is the cork that prevents the conversation of the two from sinking into the depths. Alas, there are too many depths for all hermits; therefore they long so for a friend and his height. Our faith in others betrays in what respect we would like to have faith in ourselves. Our longing for a friend is our betrayer. And of-

ten love is only a device to overcome envy." (Friedrich Nietzsche, Thus Spoke Zarathustra, pg. 55, 56.)

There are the words of Friedrich Nietzsche, the most controversial philosopher in the last two centuries. The Philosopher who tried to destroy the moral values built through millenniums, the philosopher who said, "God is dead." Even he respected friendship, and felt the need for this "Third person"-a friend.

And who can appreciate a friendship more than a lonely man? Nietzsche described his loneliness in his romantic way: "I call myself the last philosopher because I am the last man. Nobody talks to me but myself, and my voice comes to me like that of dying persons ... Though I try to conceal my loneliness from myself-the terrible loneliness of the last philosopherand make my way into the multitude and into love by lies, for my heart cannot bear the terror of the loneliest loneliness and compels me to talk as I were two." (Soccio, Archetypes of

Wisdom, p. 463-quoted in Karl Jaspers, Nietzsche: An Introduction to the Understanding of His Philosophical Activity (Tucson: University of Arizona Press, 1965), p. 56)

Friendship. What is friendship? We read the thoughts of all of these noble and famous men since Socrates. They all valued friendship as something noble, most important in life, as the relationship between two people, filled with respect, tiust, honesty, love. They chose friendship over love between man and woman, over passion, physical satisfaction, and egoism. They said that women are not capable of being friends.

Influenced by these classical philosophers, Nietzsche wrote about the same subject and expanded it on both sexes of his time:

"Are you a slave? Then you cannot be a friend. Are you a tyrant? Then you cannot have friends. All-too-long have a slave and a tyrant been concealed in woman. Therefore, woman is not yet capable of friendship: she knows only love.

"Woman's love involves injustice and blindness against everything that she does not love. And even in the knowing

love of a woman there are still assault and lightning and nigh alongside light.

"Woman is not yet capable of friendship: women are still cats and birds. Or at best, cows.

"Woman is not yet capable of friendship. But tell me, you men, who among you, is capable of friendship?

"Alas, behold your pove1ty, you men, and the meanness of your souls! As much as you give the friend, I will give even my enemy, and shall not be any the poorer of it. There is comradeship: let there be friendship!"

(Friedrich Nietzsche, Thus Spoke Zarathustra)

I think that Nietzsche was right by implying that women are not less capable of friendship than men. In the bottom of our souls, regardless of our sex, we all seek for a friend, but are we aware of it? Of course we are, but we often find temporary company, and make no selection of friends. We are deceived by the temporary shine of appearance. Are we slaves of appearances and imaginary needs and therefore not able to be friends? It seems to me that in our time success as an end justifies the means. We all tiy to take as much as we can and don't give anything

in return to our so-called friends. Why compromise if we can set the rules for others and help our ego to grow bigger? Are we tyrants as Nietzsche said, by refusing compromise, and therefore not able to have a friend?

I love to read Nietzsche's works. They stretch my mind and make me wonder if it is necessary to be lonely and abandoned in order to be extraordinarily creative. One of my all-time favorite writers and philosophers, the German genius Herman Hesse, also was

I love to read Nietzsche's works.

They make me wonder if it is necessary to be lonely and abandoned to be extraordinarily creative.

influenced by Nietzsche. The common theme of his books is spiritual changing, the spiritual maturing of a person, Socrates' idea of getting to know thyself. All of his books are to a certain extent autobiographical. I

would say he is describing his own feelings, disagreements with the world, difficulties in being a pai1 of society. He said in his book Demian, "Nothing in the world is more distasteful to a man than to take a path that leads to himself."

Therefore, his main characters receive help on this hard path; and this person who helps them becomes their friend.

All of Hesse's characters are unique and creative individuals. They are intellectuals or ai1ists. They're different and therefore misunderstood by regular people. Their perpetual conflict with themselves is a source of their creativity. Being immersed in their rich inner life, spiritual journey is a cause of their loneliness. None of them know exactly who they are. They only know parts of themselves.

For instance, Harry in Steppenwolfdivides his personality between wolf and human. The wolf is a beautiful, wild, free but lonely creature. The human is limited by the moral laws of society. He is weak and hungry for friendship. Preoccupied with this inner conflict Harry ignored all of the other parts of his personality. He also ignored the whole world around

him. He spent his days by living in the past, reading Novalis and Dostoevsky, filling his room with books, paintings and empty bottles of wine, getting terrible headaches, and waiting for his fiftieth birthday to allow himself to commit suicide as a final escape from human sufferings.

Despite his knowledge and populmity as a writer he wasn't a wise person and didn't have a happy life. Why? There is a wonderful passage about it.

"But in the midst of his freedom he had achieved Hairy suddenly became aware that his freedom was a death and that he stood alone. The world in an uncanny fashion left him in peace. Other men concerned him no longer. He was not even concerned about himself. He began to suffocate slowly in the more and more rarefied atmosphere of remoteness and solitude. For now it was his wish no longer, not his aim, to be alone and independent, but rather his lot and his sentence. The magic wish had been fulfilled and could not be canceled, and was no good now to open his arms with longing and good will to welcome the bonds of society. People left him alone now. It was not, however,

that he was an object of hatred and repugnance. On the contrary he had made many friends. A great many people liked him. But it was not more but the sympathy and friendliness. He received invitations, presents, pleasant letters; but no more. No one came near to him. There was no link left, and no one could have had any pm1 in his life even had anyone wished it. For the air of the lonely man sun-ounded him now, a still atmosphere in which the world m·ound him slipped away; leaving him incapable of relationship, an atmosphere against which neither will nor longing availed. This was one of the significant em·marks of his life."

On his path to achieve absolute independence Hany lost the capability to be a friend and to have a friend. Of course his loneliness enabled him to concentrate on his work but is that worth it? Indeed his whole being was striving just for a friend. On a cold, rainy night while wandering in the fallen asleep city he thought:

"Oh if I had a friend at this moment, a friend in an attic room, dreaming by candle light with a violin lying ready at his hand! How I should have slipped up to him in his quiet

hour, noiselessly climbing the winding stair to take him by surprise, and then with talk and music we should have held heavenly festival throughout the night!"

A woman, with the name of his forgotten childhood friend, Hermine would change his life completely. She would be his fiiend, his teacher. Even though she was very far from pe1fect, and unhappy by herself, she would teach Harry to enjoy the life he ignored and through that, to accept himself as he is, thousands of different personalities.

She was his window to the world of regular people and his refuge from his despair brought by loneliness. He said:

"She was the one window, the one tiny crack oflight in my black hole of dread. She was my release and my way to freedom. She had to teach me to live or teach me to die."

This comparison of a friend to a window brings us back to Nietzsche and his idea of a friend as a distraction from inner conflicts. This is not just Nietzsche's abstract idea. In our everyday life, when we are depressed, all we need is a phone call from a friend. Just a voice from the world outside of us can help us to see our situa-

tion from a different perspective, and to realize how much happiness is waiting for us if we just reach for it instead of arguing with ourselves.

Harry said that she, his friend, has to teach him. It seems to me that the essence of friendship is learning, at least for Hesse. In most of his novels two people seek each other's company to exchange their views, knowledge. There is always one who is perfect in some way, or knows more and therefore helps another to find his true self. The pe1fect example of a novel treating this subject is Demian.

There we have Sinclair, a boy seeking for his true identity. On his path he met two men, all-knowing Demian, and imperfect romantic Pistorious. Both of them helped him to survive one of the hardest periods in life, the period of adolescence when we stop idealizing and get to know our real selves. Pistorius and Demian represented two levels of maturity. It was necessary for Sinclair to be with them to realize who he wanted to become. Pistorius was a very intelligent individual. He was supposed to become a minister, but he decided not to, causing his father

great disappointment. Hesse did the very same thing. Anyway, Pistorius read a lot, knew so much about past cultures and

All of Hesse's characters are unique and creative individuals. They are intellectuals or artists. They're different and therefore misunderstood by regular people.

religions, had the talent to bring it into life in his speech, played the organ wonderfully but he didn't have originality, didn't have this spark of genius. He was well aware of his handicap and therefore tried to forget it by drinking, similar to Harry in Steppenwolf, who tried to suffocate his pain in wine. Therefore Pistorius was just a temporary phase in Sinclair's adolescence. On the other hand Demian was a final destination of maturity for him. He was spiritual, but well aware of the world's affairs, strong but sensitive to the weak, able to defend himself and also willing to help others. Even though he

was considered an odd individual, he was well respected by regular people. He was a person who achieved the balance between body and spirit. These were Sinclair's teachers, people who helped him to find himself. People who would disappear but still be alive in his mind and heart. As Demian whispered in Sinclair's ear:

"Little Sinclair, listen, I will have to go away. Perhaps you 'II need me again sometimes, against Kromer or something. If you call me then I won't come crudely, on horseback or by train. You'll have to listen within yourself, then you will notice that I am within you."

The same we could apply to our lives, when our friends are not with us and we still think about them, still value their opinions and still love them. Friendship is independent of distance, and actual contact with the person.

In his book Narcissus and Goldmund Hesse touches the subject of friendship from a different angle of view. This is a relationship between two opposing personalities. The story starts in a monastery where these two young men met. Narcissus is an ascetic. Goldmund wants to be one too. But his

nature opposes it. He is a person from this world. He is a Dionysian. Of course in this book, Narcissus is Goldmund's teacher and he as an objective observer can see that Goldmund is predestined for a different path. So he helps him to realize his real destiny. And even that is not the path of a saint, Narcissus as a becoming priest supports him.

At the beginning of their friendship, Narcissus is Goldmund's hero, idol. Goldmund's only wish is to be like Narcissus, to be in his presence constantly. Narcissus as an honest personality thinks that his friend needs to awake and tells him the following:

"No, Goldmund, I am not like you, not in the way you think, although I too am keeping an unspoken vow-in that respect you are right-but I am in no way like you. Some day you will think of what I am going to say to you now: our friendship has no other purpose, than to show you how utterly unlike me and you are."

In Demian we have friendship between two people, who emphasize their similarities and belonging to the same kind of people. Here we have friendship that does not fear the dif-

ferences in personalities, but accepts them as a part of uniqueness. Friendship shouldn't ask for change of personality just for the sake of our ego, but learn how to respect and love despite differences. There was Narcissus, apparently perfect, all knowing, an ideal man on the sinner Goldmund's death bed thanking him for teaching him the most important lesson in life: how to love:

"If I know nevertheless what love is, it is because of you. I have been able to love you, you alone among all men. You cannot imagine what that means. It means a well in a desert, a blossoming tree in the wilderness. It is thanks to you alone that my heart has not dried up, that a place within me has remained open to grace."

In all of these wonderful books Hesse stressed the importance of having a friend. He takes friendship seriously. In his opinion, friendship is a love without trying to possess, an attempt to help and teach a friend to find his happiness, to find a peace within himself. It is respect to a friend's ideals and beliefs, and honesty regardless of consequences.

Life is a Zit, Then You Die

by Ben Benson

American teen culture has always had an obsession with beauty, but when a zit mysteriously forms, the teens freak out and buy as many cosmetic supplies as they can to cover up the blemish. Acne becomes a money pit, people buy more and more foolish creams and pads to dry up the zits, but it seems like they will never work because new zits appear after the old one is gone! So people start to wonder, "What in the world causes the dumb acne, anyway?" Well the answer has finally been found. Acneologists at Planters' Peanuts studied the relationship between peanuts and zits. Their first key discove1y was that peanuts are ve1y oily. Both cracking peanut shells and eating a peanut that have gone "bad," causes stress. In addition, the atrocious amount of salt found in peanuts cause acne as well.

Peanuts are oily. Have you ever let peanut butter-PB-sit in your cabinet shelf for a very long time? And when you finally decide to make a PB sandwich, you open the jar only to find lots of oil sitting in pools

made by your last attempts at making a sandwich? That is from the peanuts, that excess oil oozes out when the PB settles after a long period. Foolish people touch their face after making and eating a PB sandwich. That act right there spreads the oil to your face and clogs up your pores. This is one problem that can never be solved, because that oil is the only thing keeping teens from dying. When the oil in peanuts is removed, the PB becomes a caulk-like substance, and no one can get it down their throat. This causes asphyxiation. And people die. So do we need the oil? Further studies are being done.

Would you believe that the salt in peanuts causes zits as well? When you suck on those peanut shells to get the delicious salt off, the long-term result is you get a zit. Your mouth starts out as an "O," the salt causes your lips to swell, which turns your lips into an "o." The shrinking of the "O" formation has been found to be the cause of zits. Acneologists at Planters' have found that injecting

marshmallow cream inside the shell, acts like a vacuum and sucks all the salt from the shell into it, then when it diies, no more salt! This eliminates the harmful saline chemical that causes zits to occur.

Did you ever get the feeling that peanuts were created only for the sole purpose of frustration? It's a complete waste of money, what happens is you get the peanuts home and you crack the shell, except when you open it, you find that you cracked the peanuts as well, and they are not worth eating if they are cracked. Peanuts cost a lot of money and the thought of losing all that money makes teens' foreheads knit. That knitting causes zits; there is a special gland in the forehead, and when it's squeezed, oils are secreted on all teens' faces. The oil clogs pores, and zits form. Planter's Peanuts have genetically engineered a peanut that will open, if you gently press between the nuts with a "snap." Thus relieving people of a zitty nightmare.

However, eating peanuts can still cause stress, especially when one has gone "bad." When you pop the nut into your mouth, there is suddenly an explosion of staleness. "Nooo!"

you cry, "not another stale peanut?" Which leaves teens chewing it into smaller bits, and their foreheads knit, secreting the oil. And it's Zit City all over again. Planters' has fixed this problem as well, in the TOP SECRET levels of Planters' Peanuts: Aceneologists are using elephants to find the bad peanut, the monitors give a red "razz berry" and when they eat a good peanut, the monitor gives a green "bing!" When the good ones are found, the elephants are trained to swallow it whole, then the Acneologists give the giant beasts a laxative to induce diarrhea, then they spray the mess away and sanitize the peanut, No Worries!

The peanut has caused a lot of trouble in society, and it's hard to discount the Iising numbers of Mad Elephant Disease. Also, the oil in the peanuts is actually needed to keep the typical American teen from keeling over left and light, alleviating the problem of our next generation's strangled throats. So what if they die of heart attacks at the age of 40 or 60? That is at least further down the road. Yes, if you eat peanuts correctly, you can live a long and happy life, zit free. Happy Safe Chewing!

Graffiti Should Not Be a Crime

by Naomi Lynn White

In the 21 st century, it seems anything and everything under the sun is against the law in one form or another. This needs to stop. Murals nationwide are being banned and prohibited only because they labeled are as vandalism in the form of graffiti, and not seen for what they really are: Art. The First Amendment in the Constitution of the United States of America says, all speech (including in the form of writing) is to be protected and uncensored. The skilful art of graffiti however is prohibited nationwide. The language and speech of an entire culture of the inner and urban cities of America are ignored. Artists should not be convicted or charged with a crime. Graffiti is an art; not a crime. Art is communication and language, and is protected under the Bible of laws in this nation. History, lifestyle, and aiiistic expression should not be reviewed and approved by government officials.

According to "Utah Law 76-6-107" Graffiti means any form of "unauthorized printing, writing, spraying, scratching,

affixing, or inscribing on the property of another regardless of the content or nature of the material used in the commission of the act" (Graffiti 1). This means that not only are graffiti artists' murals technically a crime, so ai·e cmved initials in a tree, posted lost animal posters on the street, and rummage sale signs on light posts. However, the police do not target people whose name and phone numbers appeai· on the posters of lost or unwanted items, but do hunt and chase unknown aiiists around town for displaying their work. The penalty for the spray painted murals range from fines of $300 to $5,000, second degree felony charges, and prison time ( Graffiti 2). Also, convicted graffitists serve a maximum sentence of one year for a misdemeanor charge and minimum sentence of one year for a felony charge (Arbetman and O'Brien 11). In addition to fines and jail time there is mandatory cleanup and restoration of the damages for all convicted of vandalism. I would bet money, however, that love-sick

teenagers have never been convicted of a property crime and sentenced to replace a tree in the park for carving sentimental messages, or mothers tried and found guilty for their children scrawling on the sidewalks with markers. Street artists are penalized for their work because the government targets and regulates a select group to prosecute unjustly under the law.

Speech is language; art is language, and the right of free speech is protected under the Constitution of the United States. Every person's language, no matter how offensive or beautiful is clearly within the confines of speech, however the First Amendment intended for all citizens is denied to a few thriving artists in the inner and urban cities of America.

Cun-ently the laws across the nation prohibit murals on street buildings. And, at one point the laws allowed slavery until 1865, restricted inten-acial marriages, and disapproved of women's freedom to vote. Laws change as society changes. Paradigms of society link fallacies of unknown lifestyle to art, thus determining what is considered "real" art or not. "Graffiti is to art as rape

is to sex" (No Graffiti 1), one critic of the graffiti movement said. "Most of the opposition to graffiti art is due to its location and bold, unexpected, and unconventional presentation, but its presentation and often illegal location does not necessarily disqualify it as art" (Stowers 22). Art is art whether it's painted with a brush or sprayed with a can. Raw uncut art is similar to abstract art in the rigid art world. Individuals are always left to imagine and take what they want, no matter the intended meaning of the artists. However, more inaccuracies linked with intent and motive tend to be paired with street artists, and solutions for their alleged crimes vary.

The Anti-Graf movement has been implemented across the nation since graffiti broke through the surface of contemporary art in the early 1970s. In the 70s graffiti began appearing in the inner-city Puerto Rican and African American neighborhoods. The effort to stop this criminal act of art consists of: volunteer clean up, calling the police, making citizen's arrests with probable cause and without a wan-ant, and neighborhood watch from dusk until dawn (Anti-Graffiti 3). The

government even supplies free paint in select cities so the community can clean up or paint something they feel is more appropriate. Also, freeways are painted over with ugly mismatched coats of white paint, creating untouched canvases for the graf artists to paint again, allowing them to continuously display new and original masterpieces. Actually, painting the walls repeatedly

Art is art whether it's painted with a brush or sprayed with a can.

with the white cover-up paint suffocates the miginal paint of buildings causing erosion and deterioration. So, the advocates of the Anti-Graffiti Movement do more damage than good to their own properties of the government. Perhaps, the prope1iy clime charges should be applied to the owners of the prope1iies themselves, instead of artists stereotyped as criminals.

Stereotypes of the artists range from gangs and gang members, "ten-orism in the lar-

val stage" (Hom 1), to "cults" (Geason and Wilson 1). A1iists of the Hip Hop and Graffiti subculture have been set up as feared objects in society, leaving outsiders to create false and ridiculous assumptions about the unseen wild style of aiiists of the street. They are not criminals or gang members, just innovative young people who love ati. They ai·e, however artistically highly developed, always improving and creating 01iginal styles of wall murals. They paint together in crews consisting of friends, which usually group up together and admire each other's unique styles. There ai·e not existent "cult books" (Geason and Wilson 1), just sketchbooks, p01ifolios, called black books that contain works contributed by themselves and other graf ai·tists worldwide. Unappreciated artists of the 21 st Century do paint legitimate murals in broad daylight as well as illegal night masterpieces.

Legitimate shows, gatherings, and exhibitions are held for the thriving aiiists who ai·e desperate for their messages to be seen and heaii. Meccas of the Hip Hop world ai·e located wherever there is support. Annual venues held by Culture

Shock and The B-Boy Summit

gather supporters of underground Hip-Hop music, break dancing, dj's, and graffitists together peacefully to bask in the richness of their culture. More formally, the annual Smithsonian Folklife Festival also hosts the rugged and raw talents of the streets (Being a Graffiti Artist Isn't Easy 1). Books have also been published that praise street graffiti. Jeff Ferrel, a defense lawyer, and Andy Warhol, a renowned artist, have supported the efforts of the artists. Ferrell writes, "As a defense lawyer, I have never come across a prosecution for vandalism, to wit: graffiti ... I was curious about the prosecution of graffiti cases and the criminal dimension of graffiti and unfortunately, I still am so, where's the crime? I guess it's only a crime because it's on the books of crime, and it can be used to chase down and hound street people .. .I just don't get the feel of the criminal dimension" (Ferrell 2). Also, Andy Warhol praised a book by Wilma Ervin and writes, "This is a book of really beautiful pictures. They' re all beautiful pictures On the Edge" (Ervin l).

However, other graf artists

sometimes mock the legitimate works of artists approved by the city as sellout work. Graffiti should not have to be approved by the city, state, or federal govWall markings provide a peek into the richness of the culture from which they're derived, in this case: the HipHop culture. emment because the sanctions put on the art disintegrates its originality and messages intended for the public eye. There should be no such law approving or disapproving cultural expression. Any ai1, especially such a new style, shouldn't be regimented by anyone. A well respected rap artist, KRS, once said, "Graffiti isn't corporate so it gets no respect, hasn't made a billion dollars for a corporation yet" (Turner 1). Corporate people have little respect for the graffiti hip hop culture, but are currently trying to make negotiations with some street artists to exploit their art for advertisement purposes. Improvements

of the decaying streets surrounding graffitists, with whatever label, legal, illegal, corporate, or illegitimate, serves as an outlet for an expression of every emotion derived from their inner-city life.

Graffiti aiiists consistently figure new ways of urban beautification. For respect of the natural beauty in the environment, artists avoid doing graffiti in parks or places intended for nature to be left alone. A writer, Eye Six, says, "Green growing grassland. And people, you know, they want to get away. It's the middle of the city and they want to get away form the urban they don't want to see no fuckin' graffiti. They want their kids to run around ... (instead). I go out where the winos ai·e, where the bums are, and where's it's rotting and fucked up and I beautify it" (Ferrell 3). Most street artists do not get up on any building available. They hit the parts of buildings and trains that common people don't want to see, but to a keen eye one may be able to witness a colorful and unique piece of public art not yet caged in a museum. Some wall aii may not be pleasant to view, but nevertheless it is art no matter what medium is used

to express it. Art can come from a spray can as well as a paintbrush. With no accredited training, street artists develop hundreds of different f 01ms of Graf. Most street artists cannot afford to attend "real" art schools. The criteria from the best a1i schools around the nation need an applicant to show certain qualities, such as: "motivation/passion, commitment to your art, openness to new ideas, and ability to aiticulate your work" (Yes ... 2), and "a combination of strong technical skills combined with work that goes beyond the class room assignments" (Mr. Buck, UCLA). Nothing demonstrates motivation more than writers spraying their talents nightly, running from the police so they are able to freely go out the next time and put on a free public exhibition to those in their community. Caps used to paint are similar to paintbrushes used in the education of "real" mi. The style and size of caps vary for intended use. They are used to manipulate texture, thickness, color, and the diameter of paint that sprays out of the can. "No self-respecting artists would ever use the disgusting 'Black Death' nozzle that comes native to a standard Krylon can"

(Tucker 15). Replacing the sloppy caps of a normal spray can with a wider cap allows the artist to cover a broader surface area of the wall, making it look cleaner. From etching, carving, and painting the forms of graffiti have been around longer than the modem art expert and critic.

The history of graffiti dates form the ancient times to modern day. Greeks etched and scratched stone into sculptures; Egyptians wrote hieroglyphics on walls as a form of communication; the Native American tribes of North America painted caves, teepees, horses, and even their faces; Mayans carved into pyramids; and now new generations world wide practice their communication to everyone through a new form of graffiti. Some recorded texts of graffiti come from the Bible itself. In Daniel chapter four verse one and two says, "Nebuchadnezzar the king, unto all people, nations, and languages, that dwell in all the earth; Peace be multiplied unto you. I thought it was so good to shew the signs and wonders that the high God hath wrought toward me" (Daniel, The Bible 1545). He says this referring to a tree with mysterious writings and asks all trans-

lators to interpret the meaning of the strange markings. Modem government should have no authority to stop communication through wall markings that have shown to be prevalent throughout world history. It provides a peek into the richness of the culture from which it's derived, in this case: the Hip-Hop culture.

Modern day Picasso is being raised in Hip-Hop culture, predisposed to a life of crime by disclosing his talent and love for art. Although, graffiti continues to only be recognized as a criminal offense it will never go away. "Underground will live forever. .. we're like roaches, never dying, always living " (Gum) Dimensions of street life may change and laws will conform to that change, however, art will continue to be thrown up on walls in the midst of the night. Until prisons and jails are filled to capacity with convicts, who molest children, murder in cold blood, or even drive under intoxication, the hunt for ai1ists, whose intense steady grip controls the tip of a Krylon can creating masterpieces full of color and emotion, will continue to create unnecessary problems. The definition of art is skilled

workmanship or execution; the production, expression, or realm of what is beautiful. Graffiti is art, never mind detailed books on crime, they will change in time. Until every person who commits a property crime is convicted justly under the law, graffiti should not be a cnme.

York & Toronto, Canada: Times Books, Random House of Canada Limited, 1985. Fen-ell, Jeff. Crimes of Style: Urban Graffiti and the Politics of Criminalty. Boston, Massachusetts: N011heastern University Press, 1996.

Horn, Bill, Anti-Graffiti Ordinance Amendments, March 18, 2002, www.dougweb.com

Works Cited

Anti-Graffiti. March 18, 2002, www.dougweb.com.

Arbetman, Lee and O'Brien, Edward. Street Law, A Course in Practical Law. 6 vols. Lincoln, Illinois: National Textbook Company, 1999 Being a Graffiti Artist Isn't Easy, 2001, www. festivalsl.com/01-1 0october/ tatscru/

Bible Since (A short History of Writing Graffiti). March 20,2002, www.krita.com/graf/ s.html

Ervin, Wilma. The East VU/age: On the Edge. New

International Pictures, March 20, 2002, www.graffitinet. com

Geason, Susan and Wilson, Paul R. Australian Institute of Criminology: Preventing Graffiti and Vandalism~ 1990.

Graffiti, March 20, 2002, WH'~v.iir.comlnygclgang-legic/ Utah.htm.

Gangstarr (group). Guru (artist) _Moment of Truth (compact disk). March 20, 2002.

No Graffiti, March 20, 2002, www.nograffiti.com

Stowers, George, Graffiti Art: An Essay Concerning the

Recognition of Some Forms of Graffiti as Art, Art Crimes,. March 20, 2002, Ibdot@aol.com.

Tucker, Oliver, Daniel. Graffiti: Art and Crime Q & A, March 20, 2002, www.graffiti.org/faq/ tucker.html.

Turner, John, Deceit at its Best, March 20, 2002, www.dougweb.com/ grlinks.html#top.

Yes, Getting into the Best Art Schools in America Takes a Lot of Artistic Talent, March 20, 2002, www.artschools.com

Untitled by Kendra Wan-en

AmongusI think that there will always be a gripe.

As long as we are "in our twenties" ( which seems to have nothing to do with age, and everything to do with marital status) we will always find ourselves under the eyes of sages and known under the guise of "the immature."

Mirror

by Keith Matthew Phillips, II

What hides behind your mysterious eyes?

What cause creates their gleam?

Who wonders, besides myself

If you are what you seem?

You're quiet, and dark

But when you're not careful, And you let the darkness go

You seem merry and bright.

Which one is true?

Where lies the soul

From which your words flowIs it in darkness or light?

Out of Reach

by Keith Matthew Phillips, II

You made the destruction

The sweetest by far

And though you were honest, I took the truth to be hard.

So how do I forget

The words you said to me

How do I move on,

Knowing all hope is gone?

How do I continue, With no light at the end

It might have been better

To let me drown in ignorance

For how can I face this life

Without purpose or aspiration

What am I supposed to do

Now that you are gone?

So as I sit here with numb fingers

Longing to touch your face

What purpose can they have

Now that you are out of reach?

Untitled by Sheena Goss

Imagination fonns child-like monsters breathing wax/white intentions; pale wall shadows: pink-blue pulse is (in)visible(Gardenia scent) sumptuously strolls)

So much delight In me brings

eyes that hold my (heart) in place, tilted view and

fingers that know the contours of your face, so quickly vanishing between index and thumb.