Tuesday, May 9, 2017

Additional Fees

“Hi, are you checking out?” The young woman asks the man standing in line. “Uh, yes. Yes I am.” He replies while rummaging through his coat for his wallet. The woman types away on her keyboard behind the front desk. The man stealthily places his room keys on the counter.

“Okay, that will be $244 sir.”

The man goes pale while taking a step back, “Excuse me?? Are you serious. I already paid for this room, and on top of that it should be no more than…”

“I understand your complaint sir, but the maids just updated the status of your room.”

 “STATUS OF MY ROOM? What do you mean?” The man rest both his forearms on the counter with a look of disgust.

“It says her that they suspected you bringing a dog into your room, when it clearly states that we carry a no-pet policy, sir.”

He looks up with a silly laugh, “Look, I never brought a dog to my room – hell, I don’t even have a dog to put in my room. What is giving the maids the idea that I brought a dog into the room?”

“They smelt urine in the bathroom, sir.”
The man mouths the words ‘urine-in-the-bathroom’ to himself silently. “It’s a bathroom…”

“They found it in the shower, sir.”

The man stops himself from continuing with his rage speech and thinks to himself while the woman at the front desk continues typing.

“Well…there might have been…”

“Sir, are you saying that you did or did not have a dog?”

The man suddenly looks behind sees just how much the line has grown. Someone catches his glance and yells out, “C’mon man, hurry up! Just fess up. We’ve all done it before. I got a plane to catch.”

He turns back around and leans in while speaking under his breath, “…I uhh….did it.”

“I’m sorry sir, what was that?”

“There was no dog, please waive the charges because….I did it.”

“Sir, you’re going to have to….”

“I DID IT! I WENT IN THE SHOWER, ALRIGHT?” The man abruptly shouts out to the line behind him. The woman at the desk behind him leans in, “Sir, are you alright? You don’t need to yell.”



Tuesday, April 18, 2017

Sad-Bot

“Sir, we found him over by the fences.” One of the droids calls out to the commander.

“Oh no, not again…did you take his down his vitals and sent up the report?” 

“Not yet sir, this time he has really taken a hit.”

“You mean?..”

“Yes sir, relapse…for the worst.” The droid nods with despair even though it is programmed to react that way. The commander runs out of the command tower and a few other droids join him outside in the rain near the perimeter fence. “Quickly, quickly, get him up!” Shouts the man in charge to the others. The victim’s body slinks down as one of the droids carries him in it’s arms. They then hoist him up to the tower’s medical floor. His unconscious body doesn’t respond to the thick rain and windy lift swaying lightly midair.

“How could you let this happen?” The commander shouts at his second in command while standing in the rain fixated on the gurney flying up the tower.

“I don’t know, sir. We had all our bases covered and thought all possible threats were eliminated.”

“Obviously not,” The commander responds with a motion towards the air lift.

“Sir? What it be possible to suspect the cause of this was due to lack of…”

“No, not that again, I already know where you’re going with this and that is not what happened. He was sabotaged and hacked by the enemy. He is one of my best machines and he wasn’t strong enough to resist the tampers of the opposing force, now he is worthless right when we are about to invade.”

The commander turns around and heads back into the command tower with the droid following him.

“Get up there and report back his stats, I need to know if we can recover him for when we get back into…” The ground shifts from underneath them. Immense tremors send thousands to the ground with thick fogs of ash clouding the interiors of the command posts. “Hurry up and man the turrets!” Shouts the commander with the droids scrambling to obey orders. The squeals of machinery are heard outside approaching louder and louder. Multiple shots are heard with scrapes of metal underneath the tractors.
Silhouettes of taller droids are seen through the dense fogs grabbing the smaller ones by the heads and crushing them. The commander’s droids runs back, “Sir, we have lost more than 53% of our forces. Do you wish to continue?”

“What is the status of the main droid in the medical bay?”

“88% recovered, sir.”

“Release him, that’s good enough!”

“Authorizing orders, sir.”

The droid’s eyes glow green followed by the sound of typed buttons in the shadows. Instantly rays of light from above – outside, dice through the invading enemies trailing behind bright rays with black smoke sending tanks and war machines into oblivion. White flashes of light illuminate the commander’s face as he looks down and is shocked to find that he is buried in rubble and is stained in his own blood. Not able to move he shouts out at the depleting enemy, “THAT’LL TEACH YOU TO TAMPER WITH MY DROIDS!!!” The command tower collapses in on itself after receiving several shots to the tower’s support. Hours pass, everything is crushed and all die except for the nearly-recovered cyborg fighter standing there alone in the rubble fog. He kneels to see his dismantled fallen fighters. With his artificial emotion processor starts to mourn for their loss. After feeling their loss, a side screen slides out of his chest with a timer. He sets it to auto-destruct.

From the distance, a female soldier runs out to the cyborg. “Hey I found him! Come quick!” She calls out to the others in the distant, “It’s okay, you don’t have to do this…” Her hand types at the droids’ keyboard disabling the timer. “We need you, come with us.”




  




  







Friday, April 14, 2017

Dude, Where's my Bike?

“Hello this is Jake?”

“Hi Jake, I was calling about your RC-51? The one on the ad?” I sound a little hesitant. There is a pause on the other end.

“Oh yeah, are you interested in it?”

“Well that’s just the thing, honestly I’m not interested in buying it – mostly because I can’t afford it…”

We both start to laugh abruptly, “…well anyways was more interested in just test driving – that’s all. Would that be cool if I took it around the block a few times?”

“Oh yeah, sure, sure. I should ask you, have you ridden these types of bikes before? They’re pretty advanced.” His tone changes while waiting to judge my response.

“Oh yeah, no problem, what are they six speed?” I ask with faux-confidence.

“Yep, one down, five up.”

We figured out a time later that afternoon. After work, I swung over to his address and there she was, the Honda RC-51. This one had a black coating with the red wing sprawled diagonally across the side body. They made this bike specifically for contesting in the Superbike World Championship and tops out at 180 mph!! The dual headlights just adds to my eagerness to grip the handles and pull in the clutch.

“Can I help you?” Jake calls out while coming out to the street. His question makes me jump as if I were awakened from a trance.

“Yes, I was the one who called earlier about test driving the bike?”

“Oh yeah, no problem.” He reaches over the tank and inserts the key. Following the turn of the key, the RPM and Speedometer needles sweep over the gauges as the green neutral light flashes on. And just like that, he clicks on the switch and presses the ignition. A high rev shoots up then falls to low hum. Jake motions for me to mount up. All I had were my sunglasses.

“So, you’ve ridden one of these before, right?” Jake yells over the motor. “Yes, of course I have.”

“Good,”

The bike snaps into first and as I creep forward, he yells out, “Have fun,”

From there I went up to the first stop light and decided to take it to the highway at the foothills of the nearby mountain range. The bike handled smooth and got straight to the point with exact reactions to the throttle. Once on the highway, I was free and could suddenly explain the beauties of life simply by doing 130 down the straightway. The sun was setting to the west and not another car in sight. It was giving out a distinct roar as though I were releasing it from captivity. Truly this was paradise.

After driving back to Jake’s house, I noticed none of the lights were on. I turn off the motor and pocket the key while heading into their house. I tap on the screen door with a quick “hello?”.

“Who is it!” An angry lady shouts.

“I was the one who test drove the bike.” I feebly answer.

“We thought you stole the bike!”

“I’m sorry, what do you mean? I was only gone for maybe 20 minutes tops.” I answer back confidently.

“More like two hours, guy!” She replies and then continues, “I’m calling Jake right now. He’s at the police station about to fill out a report. Leave the key and get out of here.”


I kneel over and place the keys on the nearest table in deep reverence while quickly getting out of dodge. Who would’ve thought that I was gone that long?

Tuesday, April 11, 2017

The Waiting Room

“So how did you leave Earth?”

The white air brightens the waiting room as Jessica is sitting patiently until it is her turn to be called into the interview room. Sitting next to her is a man of an advanced age. Jessica stays fixated on the older man waiting for his response, “Heart attack. How about you?”

“Well I don’t really remember how I got here to be honest. I mean there was this car on the road speeding towards me as I was walking on the sidewalk. It was night and cold.” Jessica says while looking away from the man. She appears lost in her thoughts and observes the room they are sitting in and sees the shelving of several books and white vaulted ceilings with dazzling crystal chandeliers reflecting beads of light throughout the room.

Someone else from across the aisle leans over, “Did you have that rushed feeling like when you’re in a jet taking off? Like thousands of invisible beings catching your spirit out of your body?”

“Actually yes I did!” Jessica agrees. “Like I didn’t feel anything, in fact, I remember hearing my favorite song play too,” Jessica smiles.

“I am told there is no sense of time here,” Says the man next to her. Everyone stops mid-conversation as a woman exits the interview room.

“Well? What did they ask you?”

“Yes tell us,” Another voice pleads.

The woman looks at them with peace in her eyes, “I can’t tell you but they did mention that I am to learn about everything and to roam the earth helping others figure things out…until it is time,”

“Figure what out? Until it is time for what?” Someone asks abruptly.

The woman simply smiles and replies, “Don’t worry. They’ll explain everything, they are very lovely people.”

She goes on her way through the white pair of sliding doors. The man next to Jessica gets called into the interview room. As Jessica is left to herself, she notices for the first time that she can see through her hands and just now realized how awake she has ever been. No sickness, no fatigue. She noticed that the pain in her joints and neck are no more and that her vision and hearing have improved dramatically. She feels as though she could run for miles and not lose her breath. Sleep is no more as she feels as though she could take a drive from North to South America without a single yawn. She wasn’t cold either. In her life, she would always have to crank up the heat wherever she was. She was troubled a little as she wondered about what the other woman mentioned after leaving the interview room. What did she mean by roaming the Earth helping others figure things out? And if there was supposedly no concept of time here, why would it eventually conclude? What was to happen once it was over?

A hand gently rests on her shoulder, “You’re next,” The man who sat next to her says as he leaves the waiting room through the sliding white doors.


  

Wednesday, April 5, 2017

Don't Push that Button!

“Listen you don’t have to do this. Just take a step back and we can talk about this.” The reporter takes a step towards the man at the end of the catwalk. A small console is at his waist level with a series of buttons, however one in particular has been the man’s focus for some time now. “Why don’t we step away from this? Huh? C’mon, we can talk about this.” The reporter creeps forward with his hand extended out towards the troubled man.

               “Stay away from me! Don’t come any closer!” Shouts the man.

               “Okay! Okay! I don’t want any trouble!”

               “You come any closer and I’ll push this button and it’ll all be over! Real fast!”

The reporter moves back with his hands up, “I just don’t want you to push that button!”

               “Don’t push me!”

               “Just don’t push that button!”

               “You’re pushing my buttons!”

The disturbed man’s finger hovers over the large red button. Beads of sweat form at the crown of his head.

               “There’s too many mistakes that we’ve made as individuals, governments, businesses, parents – the world! I can reverse it all if I just push the…”

               “NO NO NO don’t do that! Stay with me!” The reporter holds out his hand while slowly crouching to not startle the deranged man any more than he already is.

               “Don’t you see how many things have gone wrong? After several years of research, and most of my family’s fortune has been spent and exhausted into making this possible, I have finally created the science to reset everything!! Everyone can have a second chance now!”

The reporter continues slowly towards him, “Look, I know you initially tried to think of some kind of solution to erase mistakes, but this is so much more than you or I or anyone could ever control. Think about the aftereffects of this, this machine? Is there a reset button for this reset button? Don’t do it!”

The man starts to cry aloud, “How did you find me anyway!”

               “I was able to get a lead on your whereabouts. Originally I was assigned your story, but as a human being, I felt morally obligated to step in and talk you out of this.” The reporter steps even closer now, “Did you ever stop to think that it’s the mistakes that make us better? So what if we forgot something, or miscommunicated a message, or heck even a bad first impression – who cares? The point is we need those things to stay with us to help us out the next time.”

               “What next time?”

               “The next time we get back up and try again! If you delete everything, we will only be repeating ourselves – never growing or learning from our mistakes! Trust me this will never help us – at all! Take my hand and step away from the reset button.”

The deranged man gets on his knees and cries into his hands, “It’s just that I’ve made far too many mistakes and I want to give back and help others who have the same problems!”

The light from the reset button continues to flash as the reporter walks up to the man. “Look, I feel your pain, but I am…”

“THERE HE IS! GET HIM!” A team of police officials storm in and point their weapons at the man.

“I KNEW IT! IT WAS A TRAP!” The deranged man wipes his eyes and quickly gets up to hit the button.

“NO DON’T…” The reporter yells out only nano-seconds before everything goes dark.



Friday, March 24, 2017

"Don't you worry bout a thing"

Hello Everyone,

Don't worry, I haven't quit writing. I have taken a small break and will be resuming my posting the 4th of April. Until then feel free to check out my previous posts and if you would like to, leave comments. Thank you everyone for your support!



Wednesday, March 8, 2017

Ignorance usually is bliss...

Robert left the office with a sick feeling inside him. He knew that the decision the board made wasn’t easy. There would be consequences to their decisions that awful day. How could he go about living his life now? Or worse, how could anyone else live theirs? He climbed into the black sedan and slid into the leather seats which were always cool and sterile. The driver looks into the rear-view mirror, 

“Am I taking you to the party, sir?”

“No, just take me home,” And the car rolls forward.

How could I let this happen? Robert thought to himself. The research put into the science was supposed to be for improving the lives of millions, and now something went awry. Probably something in the math. But where? An illegible equation. A forgotten digit? The science was so sensitive that several technicians were manning the research and spent several late nights going over the sequencing on and on and on. And yet, human error was still the victor. Now the board had executed an executive order to try to cover up the mess, but Robert knows that it is already too late.

He looks out of his tinted window only to see his reflection flashing on and off from the sunset peeking through the tall hi-rises. In his reflection’s absence, he would see the people walking along the busy sidewalks. Robert knew that there was nothing he could do to stop what was about to happen. There was no one he could save. The authorities if notified would not have enough time to act. All he could do was to just go home and try to enjoy one more night of the routine life.

“Are you okay, sir?” The driver asked him.

Robert delays his response still lost in his thoughts. “I’m fine Jeffrey. Just…a long day at the office.” Robert concludes with a faded smile.

“Oh yeah? Well cheer up. There’s always tomorrow.”  

“Yes there is…” Robert knew that that statement was hearsay which now caused him to well up in tears.

Arriving at his quiet apartment on the 34th floor, he looks out across the cityscape marveling at the tangerine sky slowly being chased down by the violet night. That will be the last time the sun will set on a sane world (as sane as it can be) he thinks to himself. While taking a seat at the edge of his bed, he reaches under to pull out a box. He removes the top lid only to discover a picture of him graduating from MIT. He had so much promise and wanted to do so much good, but now the world will be altered for the worse. He did play with the idea of suicide but rather thought of it noble to stay alive and go down with the ship – owning up to his mistakes by bracing for what was about to happen.


Thursday, March 2, 2017

Mar-Queso Feature: LOFTäN

             Photo courtesy of Sam Gehrke

Who would’ve thought that two women from opposite ends of the world would meet up in the Northwest only to form an organic indie singer songwriter duo by the name of Loftän? Julia from Germany and Janell from Oregon have put their talents to work as they have created some very original and rustic sounds along with exchanging humorous banters at several venues in front of many in the Pacific Northwest. Their songs are packed with lyrics drawing in deep emotion and honesty that could not be expressed in any other way.


MQ: I understand from your bio that you both met at a pilates class? (Correct me if I'm wrong - I apologize!) But before all of that how did you both individually get into the music scene?

Julia: Yes, we met a Pilates studio. I came in to take lessons and Janell was the one who ended up teaching me. And actually still is to this day, haha. Before Loftän, I was a hobby musician for a very long time, singing in choirs, playing in bands with friends, performing only on a few occasions. Always wanting it to be more than a hobby but not really getting anywhere because of different reasons. When I moved to the US from Germany in December 2014 for personal reasons, I didn’t know anyone here. I decided to finally give music a try just by myself as a singer-songwriter. I was ready to put all my heart into it, I started performing at open mic nights, made connections at a local recording studio, recorded some demos and as I was in the process of putting together a website, I happened to meet Janell. Because it seemed like such a great opportunity to start a project with her, I put my efforts as a solo musician on ice pretty much immediately and haven’t regretted it!

             Photo courtesy of Sam Gehrke

Janell: I have wanted to be a “rock star” since I can remember breathing, really.  I have always played music but mostly I have sang.  I studied vocal performance in college for a bit before switching to musical theatre which is what I finally graduated with a degree in.  I moved to Chicago right after I graduated college at the University of Oregon and met most of the people I started various bands with there.  We played around the city for a few years and then I met a producer at a record label I was kind of interning at and we both had dreams of Los Angeles in our minds.  We picked up and relocated to Hollywood, I recorded a bunch of music independently with him and my first solo EP was released on itunes in 2006.  It went nowhere.  In the meantime I moved back to Chicago and played in another band for a bit and then moved back to Oregon.  Music was always in my mind but I let it fizzle out actively. I had just started to really pick it up again and start writing when I met Julia!  We basically made a musical “date” and totally clicked and have always been on the same page.  I really got lucky she is as crazy about doing every single thing as I am!


MQ: What an amazing story! How did you both synch your musical styles and genius being from lands 5,000 miles apart?

Janell: Julia always comes up with sweet riffs.  Her style of writing music is really easy for me to collaborate with because I love it.  I love what she writes… like what it sounds like.  I feel like with my background in 90s grunge lends itself to coming up with interesting melodies and weird harmonies and the way I speak and phrase things is like a giant run on sentence so it’s...uh….different.  

            Photo courtesy of Vince Panero

Julia: I would say our first EP is a result of listening to each other first and then adding to each other’s songs next. We decided to take songs we had written before or at the very beginning of when we met and Janell added to what I had written and I added to hers. Now it has turned into a more collaborative effort from the very start. Because my native language is German I’d say I still approach writing lyrics in a different way. For this one song we recently sat down to work on lyrics and what ended up happening was that I described a situation and a certain feeling and Janell came up with some really cool ways to express that.

MQ: I just find that whole process fascinating. With that in mind, I wanted to know where you both draw your inspiration from. What artists are your all-time favorites? Films? Books?

Janell: I don’t read.  Julia doesn’t know how to.  Just kidding.  But I really don’t read much.  I also don’t watch a ton of films.  I do watch horrible reality television though (I love Vanderpump Rules).  I do have some old favorite movies...David Lynch films.  Stanley Kubrick films!  I love Led Zeppelin, Red Hot Chili Peppers, The Pixies, LCD Soundsystem, old jazz music...when I write it is mostly about what I am feeling.  It is pretty personal.

            Photo courtesy of Vince Panero 

Julia: I’m really into reading biographies lately. I sort of stopped reading books in college. My brain can’t focus that long anymore sadly. But I picked up Kim Gordon’s “Girl in A Band” a while ago and finished it in under a year, which is pretty good for me ;) And now a friend lend me Carrie Brownstein’s “Hunger Makes Me a Modern Girl”. Also, public transportation is a huge inspiration and I miss it over here. I got a good chunk of lyrics written commuting on trains in Germany. Here I have to stop in a parking lot when I get an idea. Less convenient. Sometimes I hit the record button on my iPhone while I drive and sing what my mind just came up with.


MQ: Okay, let’s dive into your music. Honestly I have to say how wonderful your music sounds. I was jogging the other day while listening to Doorway and the sun was setting and a freight train passed alongside me and it felt like I was in a moment with your music, hahaha it was really cool. Tell me about Doorway.

Janell: Awe that is so lovely to hear thank you for the compliment and the kind words!  What a compliment! Doorway was actually written ridiculously fast.  It was one of those songs that obviously needed to be out there because of how quickly it came about.  I started it because of this guy I had started seeing.  It was just this thought I had after I left his house one day...kind of like this feeling when you’re in the moment of being present and super stoked and then total panic of whether or not it will continue to happen….like the relationship.  But wanting it to.


            Photo courtesy of Vince Panero

MQ: How about Undercover Girl?

Janell:  I started writing Undercover Girl when I lived in Chicago.  It was probably in 2006.  I had one verse written and a couple of chords and it stayed buried deep in the hugely unorganized pile of musical ideas.  One day, about a year ago, I started to dig through it and found it and loved it.  It is this idea of a girl who nobody really knows because she keeps the vulnerable aspects of herself hidden.  She would love for someone to care enough to dig deeper but it never really happens.  People like to look at her as she is surrounded by “friends” but it is all a facade.  She ate lots of drugs to mask the pain.  HA this all sounds mildly depressing.  I guess it kind of was at the time.


MQ: I just have a couple more questionsI feel like Mystery Blue is an illustration of a mood where words are just not enough. What was the creative process like for writing that?

Julia: Let’s say this song almost didn’t make the EP because arranging it almost killed us in the process. We both attached lots of feelings to the vibe of this song and it was so hard to nail it down and we both wanted to do it justice. I learned how to use Logic’s software sequencer to program the beats just for that song. I watched video tutorials for hours on end. Yeah, and I recorded some guitar and then we did the piano track but muted the guitar while working on it - all of sudden we had this cool piano part but it didn’t fit to the guitar part, like at all. It was horrible at first, then we deleted the guitar part and added some other things that are not really instruments. In the studio we looked for sounds and found something that could be mistaken for a hairdryer… It’s all in there. I promise. So, long story short, this song feels like it had a life of its own and it just took us down a path with lots of rabbit holes but we made it to the end and are super proud of it!


MQ: I’m glad you stuck with it! I also love your short song, roomate, and there’s so many more but for the sake of time I just wanted to close with this question, you mentioned that you will be releasing your new music video next Friday. Are you able to disclose which song it will be?

Julia: Yes! We are going to release a music video for “Undercover Girl”. We kind of ran with the theme of hiding your true self and a word play on going undercover. We filmed with lots of our friends and had a blast shooting lots of different scenes in all kinds of locations. It’ll premiere on Friday and we’re doing a live stream celebration on Sunday, February 26th at 10:30am PST. We’re going to play some songs, we’ll do a Q&A and just hang out to talk about life and music. It’s going to be on YouTube and Instagram.

MQ: Can’t wait! Julia and Janell thank you so much for doing this. 


           Photo courtesy of Sam Gehrke

For more information on Loftan, you can find them on their website www.thebandloftan.com or check them out on the following links


Be sure to see their latest music video premiering below:



Tuesday, February 28, 2017

I am not a doctor...

 Please come in, have a seat Doctor Mario. How are you today?

I’m fine thank you. How are you?

Doing well. Now I was looking over your application. You have applied for the chief surgeon 
position here at the Mercy Memorial hospital, and I just had some questions.

Go ahead.

Well it says that you were the top of your class at med school and that you graduated as the Alma Mater, you received several merits and awards. You put here that you even successfully completed three residencies While that all looks good, but I just had one question…you never listed what school you went to. Only that you attended med school.

…Oh really? It doesn’t say? I thought it was on there. Hmm. Well I went to Northeast Scandanavia University. It’s foreign. The locals would call it NES for short.

Right..well I don’t see any references or contact numbers listed on your resume

I was the best at what I did.

And what was that? It says here that you specialized in…viruses?

That is correct.

Any in particular? Like the recent type 1 VP26 protein? Or the potato virus X?

More like the red, yellow, and blue ones.

Ok..

Look, I’ve done over several hundred operations. I’ve even gone up to level 21.

What is level 21? What does that mean?

90 viruses or more, you have to think fast and move quickly in matching the colors.

…I can see there is definitely a language barrier here.

The only barriers are when you mismatch the colors to the viruses.

Oh, I have to take this. Hello? Yes. He’s right here. Okay..I’ll send him up. Thank you.

Who was that?

That was your brother. He says you haven’t taken your medication and that you are not a real doctor. In fact, you have been applying at every major hospital along the eastern seaboard. He is coming upstairs to come get you now. Thank you and good day. 




Friday, February 24, 2017

5 Squad Cars, 4 Engines, an Ambulance and a Chief at 1 House

Loud sirens play into my music as I'm running through a quiet street, I mute myself only to see two fire trucks speeding past me. I stop to take a moment and try to see where they are going.

I resume and continue down the same street they were heading down. The track on the shuffle changes and then more red lights flash from behind. This time it is an ambulance. As I move further down the street, a series of red and blue flashes projects from a certain spot of the neighborhood I am slowly approaching. What could it be? I wonder to myself. Another fire engine horn blasts off. I turn my head to the left looking down the street parallel to me and see a large blur of more red engines speeding towards the gathering of the other lights. Seriously this must be bad if there are that many engines and a paramedic. Now I’m only a block from where they all are and now the fire chief speeds through with another engine!? As I get close enough to the scene, I noticed a handful of squad cars are there as well – closing off a section of the street they are on, centered on one house in the middle.

“Hey what are you doing?” Another runner crouches next to me as we attempt to hide behind some shrubs from a street on the corner of where the action is.

“How are there that many emergency units covering a small house in this city? Who are those in the hazmat suits?” I whisper-yell to the runner beside me.

“I don’t know, but there was something like this a couple of days ago down the street where I’m at.”

“What happened?”

“I couldn’t really tell because they…” He is interrupted as some shouting comes from inside the house they are surrounding.

               “…just take it easy…we are getting you out of your house…will take care of you…walk slowly…”

               “…I’M NOT LEAVING…THIS HOUSE HAS BEEN HERE SINCE….”

“Can you hear anything from inside there?” I ask.

“Not really, but I think they are trying to evacuate whoever is in there.”

               “…YOU COME IN HERE…AND TRY TO TAKE ME…ALL BECAUSE THAT…FACTORY OR PLANT…IS MISMANAGED…”

               “…we just want to help…please…with us…”

               “…HOW MANY OTHERS HAVE BEEN INFECTED…HOW ARE YOU...FIX THIS…”

“I heard something about a –”

“HEY YOU! GET OUT OF HERE NOW!” A fireman shouts at us but then turns quickly to see the house collapse in on itself. Response teams scramble quickly as a rush of cloud vanishes everything.  

“Did this happen at the one you saw?” I yell to the other guy as we run to take cover.



Tuesday, February 21, 2017

No Tip, No Peace

“Here’s your check, pay whenever you’re ready.” Says the waitress as she smiles at the four young men, she winks at one of them and leaves.

“Who’s got it this time?”

“I paid last time – “

“NO YOU DIDN’T! I DID.”

“Right, you gave me the money to pay for the orders, so technically I’m covered.”

“YOU’RE FULL OF CRAP!”

“Guys, guys, guys its fine…I’ll take care of it. Relax.” The third one says as he pulls out his wallet, peeling out cash.

While they are waiting for her to come back, one of them leans in closer to the other guy who was winked at by the waitress. “I think she likes you, man. Seriously.”

“I don’t know, she’s out of my league.”

“C’mon, stop that. Y.O.L.O.”

“Did you get that from SPIKE T.V. or something?”

“NO, it means, you only live once.”

The waitress comes back smiling at the modest one, “Thank you!”

“Hey umm, my friend here is really shy and was wondering if he could get your number.” The waitress looks surprised and runs her hand through her hair. “Umm..well I have a….okay.” She concludes while slightly biting her bottom lip. She scribbles down her number on a blank ticket followed by a hiss and tear of the sheet and reaches out for the shy one to receive. She shrugs her shoulders with a smile, “Call me sometime.”

The other one raises his glass, “Oh uh, could I get a refill before we head out.” She breaks away from staring as if awakening from a trance. “..sure yeah. I’ll be right back.” She takes his glass promptly and heads towards the kitchen.

“YOU DID IT MAN, I DIDN’T KNOW YOU HAD IT IN YOU!” They say to him as he holds her number in disbelief.

“More like you guys did it, all I did was take up breathing space.”

“Naahh c’mon, give yourself some credit, after all you did manage to….” He is interrupted from a voicemail notice on his phone. “…shoot, I gotta take this. We need to leave here right now since I drove.” The four of them get up out of their booth.

“Oh what about the tip?” The other three search their pockets, “I don’t have any cash on me, it’s fine. 
Let’s just leave, it’s not that big of a deal.” They make their way to the exit. As the first one is about to push open the entryway to leave a shouting young woman exclaims, “ARE YOU KIDDING ME???” Everyone in the diner stops conversing and fixes their attention on the waitress (who by the way is pissed).

“NO TIP!?! Is this the way you treat your waitresses?? You just waste my time by not knowing what to order and keep having me take back your food all because the meat was too pink even though you ordered medium rare, and being loud and rude, and then having me whore myself out there for your quiet friend here??” She exclaims while slowly approaching them. The four of them put their hands up as if she were pointing a gun at them.

“Look, we apologize, seriously. None of us had any cash on us, just enough for the meal. I’m sorry.” The rest of them concur with quick nods filled with terror in their eyes. “Don’t you guys make enough in tips anyways??” The same scared man speaking for the group gets a hard slap in the back of the head from one of the guys behind him.

“Enough..in..tips??” The waitress asks him in a very dark tone. “Let me tell you just how much I make in tips and where that money goes.” She grits her teeth while pulling out a calculator from her apron pocket. “I work 10 hour days with an average of 16 customers like yourself who usually leave a two-dollar tip. Working 6 days out of the week. All that amounts to is about $200 a week just in the tips, I take home twenty percent of that – so $38!! With my base pay, it only adds up to $388. And then I have to pay the babysitter because daycare is too expensive, and then diapers, food, all because that father of his won’t pay child support!!” She escalates to more shouting. The guy with the number looks up shocked. “And yes, I have a kid! Are you okay with that or is that going to be a problem?” She firmly asks the guy holding her number. Before he can answer that, the waitress asks the man who presumed she made enough in tips. “So tell me, how much do you make?” 

She tilts her head to the side with her hands on her hips. “…umm well I’m a commercial developer and I –”

“AND YOU COULDN’T LEAVE A MEASELY TWO-DOLLAR TIP ALL BECAUSE YOU DON’T HAVE ANY CASH?? GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE! AND TAKE YOUR SCRUBBY FRIENDS WITH YOU!!”

The crowd in the restaurant cheer and whistle for the waitress as the front doors slam shut.




Thursday, February 16, 2017

Progress Report - Sound Structure Excerpt

So a couple weeks back I was invited to have dinner at a friend’s house. During some of our discussions I was asked to read something from the books I am currently writing. To my friend’s defense, I was given ample time beforehand to read something days before the dinner, however as always I procrastinated what to read from one of my books plus I was very shy about it. If I had been more prepared and mustered up the courage to read something out loud, I would have felt confident to read this excerpt:


I slam the garage door behind everyone. Sierra finally catches up to me and climbs in through the driver’s side door without opening it. She slithers into the back seat and lays there wounded and nearly infected by them. I set Henry down in the passenger side and place a temporary barricade to the garage door. Thunderous poundings beat at the nearby walls and door. I can hear them so clearly, just itching to get to us. Their taunts are too real to let go. Heavy whispers dart at me, “Why are you trying so hard?” or “Just get what you want and leave everything else,” I stand there puzzled trying to register what is being said to me. Who is saying this?
  
“Tango. . .” I have never heard Sierra call out my name with such pity and weakness. “. . . I think we need to drive the car.” A couple of arms punch through the walls into the garage. “Let’s go somewhere else. . .” Sierra suggests as if she was asked what to do next on such a ‘casual evening’

I hear sirens from outside and the technotic beats are pulsating even louder to where I get down for cover. Henry is louder than ever as well, as he is left there crying. How did I get into this? I can’t take care of anything. Nothing is working.

Getting up and jumping into the driver's side, my right hand cranks one down on the gear lever, pulling out in reverse as the walls and door of the garage crumble down freeing the captive monsters into continuing their pursuit after us. I speed out of the neighborhood. Bodies fly up on the hood as I gun it forward. The windshield wipers smear out the dark sludge that was bled out from their eyes and mouths.  

Amidst all of this, an ongoing echo of a faded song from outside – above us, washes over the dome of the sky we are under as if high shrieks of a living being is dying slowly to a halt. Growls and snarls are ensued into the air being scratched in as I watch for more dark figures moving radically to catch up to us from my rear view mirror. 

I should be stunned with absolute horror along with my heart rate pumping in more and more adrenaline, but I proceed with my foot on the gas as I look out to see the faded emerald clouds being sucked out from the horizon, with the blackness encroaching so steadily sinking over the expanse with confident dominance. I take a peek at the folded piece of paper that the muted girl gave me while maintaining our hasty getaway. Unfolding it I quickly read out letters in misspelled crayon characters put together to create a message:  

No More Mountain . . .


Tuesday, February 14, 2017

The Foreigner

“So sorry for interrupting Mr. Coombs, go ahead and continue – please.” The doctor says.

“Well like I was saying earlier, I was driving down the main street which eventually turns into the state highway. I had the radio playing Waiting for a Girl like you and just like that as I was driving further down the street…. I found myself thirty years into the past.” Mr. Coombs pauses for a moment to recollect his thoughts.

“So…you were in a state of mind? Perhaps? Or was this…real?” The doctor tries to elaborate on his statement.

“No, it was real alright.”

“How did you know you were thirty years into the past?”

Mr. Coombs sits up more, “There were stores that have been closed for decades, the streets had older models parked on the sides – plus gas was only 84 cents. Even the old theater on the corner had the promotional release of the Evil Dead movie as it were the first time premiering! I even went further to get out of my car to check the dates of the newspapers which confirmed that I was for a moment physically in the 80's. How do you explain that?”

“Maybe you just happened to come across one of those vintage bookstores and the cars parked on the street were from a collector. And maybe the old theater was having a horror nostalgia night. Halloween is just a couple of weeks away." The doctor tries to rationalize.

"Out of all the days, I ride down that street, and just like that everything is all decorated for nostalgia? I don't think so..." Mr. Coombs says discouraged.

The doctor takes his glasses off and takes a breath, "Mr. Coombs, I’m afraid I can’t help you understand what all of this is. I do know that you have suffered the loss of your wife and that could partially be the reason why maybe your mind has been believing in things that you perceive to be real, but in reality are not.”

“I can’t believe I’m paying you two hundred an hour to tell me what I could’ve looked up on Google! 

Look, the fact is I was somewhere in time! Yes, that sounds crazy, but for some reason when I had the radio playing under frequency 107.1 at approximately 5:48 in the morning along Valley Blvd in Monterrey Park, I was for a moment in the year 1981.”

The doctor clicks his pen followed by scribbling on a notepad, “Why 1981? Is there a connection with that specific year?”

“Other than the fact that that song was released during that time, no.” Mr. Coombs says while laying back down.

“Let’s try an experiment with this. Try listening to a song from the 50’s and see if somehow you end up in that period while taking the same route to work.”

“I’m sorry I still don’t think you’re taking this serious. I was in another time. It’s not like I went to the grocery store and back, I went through time – no one has done that. No one could.”

“The eyes will believe what the mind perceives. Sometimes, we want something so bad that we will believe it as real as we want it to be.” Counsels the doctor with more scribbles on his notepad.

“I appreciate your time, but in all honesty, it was mistake coming here. I have to go.” 

Mr. Coombs gets up to retrieve his coat from the rack.


“Whether you decide to come back or not, please just try the experiment and let me know.” The doctor concludes as he looks up to Mr. Coombs. 

Tuesday, February 7, 2017

The Mountain Lion Theory


The Pacific Crest Trail, Mile 734 – 20 Miles before Crabtree Meadows, July 1995

“Okay so walk me through how you get to that sand dungeon again?” Ben asks as he is adjusting his sleeping bag.

“That game has been out for four years now, how are you just now playing it?” Mike questions him.

The third camper remains huddled in the tent while on watch out through the small tent window on anything and everything moving out there in the thick dark night.

“Ok, for the last time, Link needs to get that green book, which can be found on top of the bookshelf in the Library which is in Kakariko Village, then you read the book in front of that stone tablet and VOILA, the three statues shift around granting you access to the….” Mike is interrupted by Rick shushing them who continues to stand as the watchmen of the three.

“….did you hear that?” His voice breaks the long silence.

“All I’m hearing is you trying to prevent me from giving Ben advice on a game he should’ve finished years ago while still living with his parents.” Mike retorts.

“No, no…it sounded like paw steps.”

Paw steps??” Ben emphasizes with grief.

Rick sits back down distressed. He has always had a lasting fear of the wildlife – especially mountain lions. He has never encountered one but has always heard stories of those hiking through the Sierra Nevada mountains only to be ambushed by them. Even with a 9MM (with or without the park’s consent), he still is shaken by the very thought of them.

“Rick, I know how you feel man. We’ve been through this before. We are a ‘large group’. Remember what the rangers said about staying in groups? Relax man..hey didn’t that Cheryl Stray write a quote about getting over fear or something back in Mojave or was it by Agua Dulce?” Mike turns to ask Ben.

“I don’t know man, but I love all of her quotes. They are so beautiful, no one talks like that anymore.” Answers Ben.

“Dude, THEY ARE GOING TO COME IN OUR TENTS AND SLASH US UP AND EAT US!” Rick yells out of panic.

“Ok, ok, Rick. Calm down man. Look we are okay, plus we are fully loaded, okay? Us-guns. Them-no, alright?” Ben tries reassuring him.

“Hey Rick, I have this theory.” Mike tries to start but is already scoffed by Ben.

“What? What is the theory?” Rick asks.

With a sigh, Mike continues, “Alright so house cats are in the same family as big cats, right?”

“Well sort of, but I don’t see where you…”

“So usually family members can sense eachother and are aware of their own kind.”

“….okay?? Where are you going with this?”

“My theory is that if you were to bring a house cat with you on a hike, the mountain lions will leave you alone. Tell me that doesn’t make sense.” Mike challenges Rick.

“….or the mountain lion will think you brought an appetizer before getting to YOU as the main course..” Rick answers very annoyed.

“I don’t see it that way.” Mike objects.

“HOW DO YOU NOT SEE IT THAT WAY??”

“But the house cat is family,”

“THAT DOESN’T MATTER! ITS NOT LIKE THE MOUNTAIN LION WILL SNIFF THE HOUSE CAT AND COMMUNICATE THROUGH THEIR WISKERS SAYING ‘HEY IT’S OKAY, THEY’RE WITH ME.’”

Ben starts to laugh, “It’s like he is getting us through bouncer security,”


“SSHHHH!”

Thursday, February 2, 2017

Mount Up

Peter sits there mounted on his snowmobile, contemplating the monstrous steep hill in front of him. Jim is sitting as passenger yelling over the engine.

“Peter, you can do this! Stop hesitating!”

“Why did I ever let you talk me into this? I can’t…do this! You drive!”

Peter used to be a hill climber for tournaments worldwide however suffered a major accident leaving him almost paralyzed.

“Look, I am right here man. I’m not going anywhere. You’ve done these a thousand times. This is a hill for beginners. You need to let go and move on. It’s been ten years.” Jim tells him.

Reports of the accident revealed that it was lift from the descending winds that caused him to fall backwards and nearly get crushed. Throughout the past ten years he has been through several physical therapy sessions and has written several self-help books on “Getting back up the hill”, however has avoided the fact that he must revisit this or remain haunted by his past.

“I’M NOT GOING TO TELL YOU AGAIN! Too many times have we attempted to do this only to leave me to get us up there! I’m tired of this. You will live out the rest of your life paralyzed with fear unless you make the decision to end this now! Jim yells ferociously.

Peter’s thumb weighs in heavier than usual on the throttle causing the RPMs to slightly spike.

“BETTER ALIVE THAN DEAD!” Peter shouts

“TO LIVE IN FEAR IS TO NOT LIVE AT ALL!” Jim replies angrily

“Didn’t you get that from an 80’s movie?”

Jim slaps the back of his helmet, “JUST SHUTUP AND GET US UP THAT HILL!”

Instantly Peter crosses himself and revs up the engine, they both jerk back as the machine takes off. The skis hold their position aiming right into the heart of the slope. They lunge forward as the hill continues to move progressively vertical. Peter starts to let off the throttle however Jim holds his hand over maintaining the RPMs – it starts to look hopeless that is until they finally clear it. 

Alas the two dismount and join together in celebration of Peter’s breakthrough. Shouts and tears are shared and glory has shed itself once again on Peter as he is now liberated and has regained his confidence.


However, the snowmobile was stopped only at the edge of the hill and while the engine is still running, rolls back off the hill – leaving the two to cut short their celebration only to slide down the hill and chase after the runaway machine. 

Tuesday, January 31, 2017

Mended Hearts Crossing

“Okay mom fine, I’m sorry I lied. I knew you were going to say no anyways!” Jess yells back to her mother who is doing 70 down the state highway 112 late for her other daughter's recital in Clallam Bay.

“I knew it! It’s moments like this where I can’t trust you! I asked you about your homework, your chores, and if you going to youth activity’s’ night, but instead you were running around with that Angela girl probably smoking pot or whatever the hell it is kids are doing nowadays!” Her mother yells over the radio. 

The tips of the Evergreens brush past in a blurred haze slashing the gray forecast sky. The two-way road winds into an endless trance curving through the dark forest and back out into the open grass. The mother reaches over to turn down the stereo. “And when did you learn to listen to this trash?” Jess rushes in to change it back, this time cranking it higher. “Oh hell no, you are not going to act like this young lady.” The mother insists with authority in her tone. “Angela is not like that mom, she was framed.”

“Excuse me, FRAMED?”

“Tyler planted that in her locker and now everyone thinks that she is a druggie.”

YOU ARE 14 YEARS OLD AND I’M ALREADY HAVING THIS CONVERSATION WITH YOU??” 

The mother yells looking over to Jess.

“MOM LOOK OUT!!!”

The windshield shatters instantly bulging into the car with the entire vehicle spinning off the road all within a few seconds. A heavy figure slides off the hood and slumps to the middle of the road. After a few moments Jess sits there frozen in terror. “Mom? MOM? ARE YOU OKAY? MOM?” Jess cries out.

Her mother opens her eyes with her hands midway raised as if about to push something away. “I’m fine dear, are you okay?”
Jess starts to cry, “I’m fine mom but the airbags didn’t deploy,”

“I know sweetie. Can you move?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

After several minutes, the two work their way out of the car which appears normal in the back however twisted from the front bumper to the windshield wipers. Jess calmly takes her time regaining her balance. “Jess, honey, I don’t think it’s safe to walk. You should sit down and wait for help to get here.”

“Did we hit that?” Jess asks faintly while approaching the furred mass laid out on the double line divider. She discovers it was an adolescent deer – miraculously untouched. “Mom! Quick! We need to help her!” Jess says as she kneels down beside the deer. The animal’s head is now resting on her lap as Jess quietly sobs. From the deer’s eye runs a small tear of blood. “Jess! Don’t touch…” Her mother stops herself mid-sentence swallowed up in emotion as well. Jess runs her hands over the crown gently.

“Do you think it was quick? Do you think she felt anything?”

There is silence while the mother approaches her daughter and kneels down.

“Look mom, I’m sorry about lying to you. I don’t want to lose your trust.”

Jess is encircled by her mother.

"And I need to trust you more and be more open to hearing your side of the story.

"I'm so sorry mom."

“It’s okay, it’s okay.”






    

Thursday, January 26, 2017

GWARs in my closet!!

“Daddy can you leave the door open? There’s space mutants in my closet.” The little boy says while partially buried under his covers. The father hesitates to leave the room with his hand still on the door knob.

“Who told you there were space mutants in your closet?”

“Ricky from school. He says they play really scary music and they eat people and violate primate animals, whatever that means.”

The father re-enters the bedroom and sits at the edge of his bed. “Well, for one thing this kid who told you all these stories has it all wrong.”

“He does?”

“Yes, he needs to get his facts straight about who these…space mutants really are.”

The boy sits up in his bed with excitement, “Who are they REALLY??”

The father tries to calm his son down while stretching the covers over him. “Believe it or not, but they are the ones that are actually protecting you. Ricky must’ve lied about that.”

“But he showed me a picture of them and they really do look scary and one has metal jaws for a head, how are they the good guys?”

The father looks slightly defeated while carefully thinking through his next response. “Well, one would think that they look mean, but that’s just the way they were made.”

“Who made them?” Asked the boy.

“There were…bad guys in outer space who were taking over galaxies and these space mutants were created to fight those bad guys.” The father responds confidently.

“Well if that’s true, why did Ricky say that they eat humans and live on earth and were frozen in Antarctica?”

“Who are you going to believe? Ricky or your old man?”

The boy smiles, “You, dad.” He lays back into his bed and turns over already asleep.

The mother stands by the doorway, “Nick? You didn’t tell him about what that band is really about, did you?” He scoffs, “Oh no, I would never try to explain that to a seven year old, but I had to play the offense on this if some punk kid is going to try to scare him.”


Tuesday, January 24, 2017

Mar-Queso Feature: DAVID A. SMITH



It is with great honor to present to you David A. Smith, best known for photographing countless shows that have come through the Southern Area of the United States. He has built his legacy on capturing the moments of several major acts such as Sara Evans, Carrie Underwood, Tegan and Sara, Ra Ra Riot, and CeeLo Green to name a few. His photographs have been used and licensed by AOL, Buzzfeed, Entertainment Weekly, ESPN, The New York Times, Time, Vanity Fair, and many more. On top of all his accomplishments, he is also known for photographing portraits and wedding events. David currently resides in Birmingham, Alabama.

MQ: How did you get into photography? How many years have you been doing it?

DS: I picked up photography strictly as a hobby after I graduated college in 2004. It was something I was interested in doing and had friends doing as well. I didn’t know what I was doing, though, but I just went out and tried a lot of trial and error. As for concert photography, that didn’t start, consistently, until around 2007 or so. I lived in Tuscaloosa, Alabama – a college town, so there were always local shows to photograph.


MQ: That is so cool. I’ve had several friends in high school who would photograph local shows from behind the curtain. What was some of the equipment you would use, starting out? How would you get the shots just right with the lighting being so dark?

DS: When I was first staring out, I was using a Canon Digital Rebel and basic kit lenses. I would then work up to using a 40D and 50D as other earlier bodies. I had non-DSLR cameras before that, but the Rebel was the first. As for lighting, well, I had no idea you weren't supposed to use a flash. I mean I had zero concept about the "rules" and we're also talking about local non-credentialed shows. I used an external flash for those local shows. It's something I wouldn't do now, but I have zero apologies for doing it then.


MQ: What were some of your most memorable moments at a show you were able to capture through the camera (if it's even possible to narrow it down)?

DS: Oh... there are lots. If I had to narrow one down, it would be the night in July of 2010 when I went to Egan's Bar, where I usually shot shows in Tuscaloosa, to see who was playing that particular Saturday night. Summer is always a slow time in town so I didn't expect much. Turns out it was this band from north Alabama called "The Shakes". I was like "They're pretty damn good for a Saturday night in July band". A year or so later... they blew up, started getting momentum, and changed their name to "Alabama Shakes". I mean they are literally why I'm doing credentialed shows now so that first show I saw them do will always stick with me.


MQ: The Alabama Shakes?? They're huge now! Oh wow that's really neat. When these shows go on, what is it that you look for as a photographer? What makes your camera go click, in that moment they are performing?

DS: When I shoot a show now, I'm looking for emotion from the performer. I'm looking for energy. I'm looking for some type of expression. The photograph has to tell the story of the performance. From a practical point of view, I'm looking for adequate to decent lighting, a good solid shot of at least the artist's face, and similar things like that. I make my money by the photo being able to clearly identify the artist on stage.


MQ: When you started out in your craft, would you have to fight for a good spot to shoot? Or was there always some sort of accommodation to where you could set up for a good vantage point?

DS: When I was shooting at bars, which were very small and tight, I'd usually get up front early and stay there. Most people knew who I was so it'd never be a problem in getting to where I needed to be.


MQ: I have to ask, what was it like to see Carrie Underwood, Blink 182, Chromeo, Tegan and Sara, St. Lucia, and even GWAR live on stage???? How were you preparing to capture them through the lens?

DS: They all put on really good and entertaining shows. Each group and act know the value of putting on a visual performance. GWAR was nuts because you have to duck and dodge all the stuff they throw into the crowd. As for preparation, I do standard research for each act I cover, including seeing current photos to get an idea of how their stage set up looks and what kind of lighting to expect. I try not to go into any show blind.


MQ: Aside from all the shows you've photographed, what about your other projects with wedding portraits and profiles of people you have captured. How did you get into that? Or was that in the beginning of your endeavor?

DS: Aside from shows, I have a completely separate side of the business to handle my weddings, portraits, and events work. It's under a different but similar name as I wanted a clear and distinct difference in the eyes of the public. When I started out, I didn't think I'd do weddings. I was happy just experimenting with things, shooting high school football and the local shows. A friend got married and I offered to do his photography as a gift. It was a very small outdoor wedding. When I did that, I was like "Well, I might was well jump feet first into this". I started doing weddings full on in 2010 and love doing them. I learned a lot about how to do them from shooting high school football. Both are all about anticipation of movement, being in the right place at the right time, and thinking on your feet.


MQ: That's really neat! So lastly I just wanted to ask about any advice you may have for those looking to start taking up photography?

DS: If you do take up photography, just get out and practice. See what works and see what doesn't. Trial and error is key in the learning process. I also encourage people to find their particular style and look. Don't worry about copying the look of other photographers. Do what appeals to you and let others find it.


For more information and to see his work, you can visit his sites at the following links: