tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-54036769710906179722024-03-05T08:15:13.415-08:00Mar-Queso Marquez Perezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12469958863020970673noreply@blogger.comBlogger155125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5403676971090617972.post-25915214055821548502018-02-02T09:29:00.000-08:002018-02-02T09:29:06.179-08:00Future Daughter<div class="MsoNormal">
I stand there in the dark corridor not able to see fully with
the few dim lights present, dotting a path further down. No doors on either side.
Just blank walls. Suddenly a young woman approaches me out of the dark on the
other end of the hallway. Her countenance is faint from where I stand – not able
to discern any of her features just yet. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Hey,
how are you??” The young woman says as she finally gets close enough to me. Her
features are familiar as if I knew her from somewhere. So strange that I
remember her, but from where? It’s like the answer is at the tip of my tongue
and I can’t spell it out. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Good, I
suppose.” I scratch my head for a moment, “Do I know you?” I ask now more
anxious than ever to solve this. She laughs, “Oh I think you know the answer to
that question, c’mon, think harder.” At this point, her face appears more recognizable
as that of my own. “You look like someone I know, but I can’t remember. What is
your name?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Natalie,”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Are
you?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“That’s
right, I’m your daughter.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So many questions flood in, where do I begin. She is so much
older now. What is this?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Wait a
minute, how old are you now? Where did all the time go? Where are we by the
way? What are you doing with your life?” I find myself slowly growing sadder.
Overwhelmed with moments of imagining the years of neglecting her, as a parent.
And that maybe I botched or was the cause of any possible ‘mishaps’ of missed
opportunities of crucial quality moments with her all because I might’ve been distracted
of my daily busy life with driving my ambitions to nowhere. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Relax
and breath deep for me,” She coaches me with a smile. “You don’t need to worry
about me.” She finishes calmly as if a doctor were reassuring a worried
patient. “I am almost 30 and am working on my doctorate and have already
received several civic awards and recognitions in my field of study. I have
traveled around the world helping so many.” After she speaks on her accomplishments,
I start to tremble uncontrollably, <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“But did I mess you up? I know that
you were like my first pancake. I’m so sorry if I missed out on trying to help
you as a child. I know that I brushed you off countless times with work or just
life in general?” I kneel down in shame and start to breakdown feeling a thick
layer of regret sink into me. And suddenly she lifts me up and goes in for a
warm embrace and looks up to me,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“You did everything you could, it’s
not fair to beat yourself up. I love you and I don’t want to feel this way anymore.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I wake up finding myself in my bed. Aimlessly, I reach over
for the clock which reads three in the morning. I quickly get out of bed and
rush downstairs and stand outside six-year-old Natalie’s room marveling at her sleeping
in her little bed in the stillness of the early morning. ‘<i>What a dream’ </i>I think to myself with great relief. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Marquez Perezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12469958863020970673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5403676971090617972.post-41999400113108757312018-01-19T08:21:00.000-08:002018-01-19T08:21:54.663-08:00Mar-Queso Feature: Ice Choir<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3mcoKchG-nB3oPY47a7nkpVjKApDNtxAW8W9MlNH_iysnSctI4kzZGuA5izw9VVBOr-PQwzw4yRNOu2SsbWnZUJ2-Uh4S6AbGe5hQYlTdARBLGNT9dmG1u3s7BE8ygMF3vvvq-PP_McQ/s1600/ice+choir2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="305" data-original-width="400" height="305" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3mcoKchG-nB3oPY47a7nkpVjKApDNtxAW8W9MlNH_iysnSctI4kzZGuA5izw9VVBOr-PQwzw4yRNOu2SsbWnZUJ2-Uh4S6AbGe5hQYlTdARBLGNT9dmG1u3s7BE8ygMF3vvvq-PP_McQ/s400/ice+choir2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<b>Hello Readers, Fellow Writers, Friends and Visitors!</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>Today, you are in for a real treat! I recently had the privilege of interviewing a very talented artist, Kurt Feldman and his current music project <i>Ice Choir</i>. Through a search on Soundcloud, I found his music by accident and it has been a blessed journey ever since. With being such a huge fan of his music, I am excited to share with you some insight into the creativity that went into developing the works that you can listen to below. Kurt has used various instruments and experimented heavily with sounds inspired from the earlier 8-bit days of video gaming. He previously helped formed the band <i>The Depreciation Guild</i> and occasionally has made music advertisement for various medias. Kurt currently resides in Brooklyn, New York.</b><br />
<br />
<br />
<b>MQ: How did you get into making music? Did you have any projects prior to <i>Ice Choir that you were involved in? What was your inspiration?</i></b><br />
<br />
KF: I started taking guitar lessons when I was 8. From middle school onward, I played in a bunch of angsty-teenager-rock bands, nothing of note there. Also played in some bands after college and toured around for a few years. When I was on tour, I started writing some songs out of admiration for the music I was listening to at the time, basically as a creative exercise to keep my brain form turning into oatmeal. That's where I wrote the first <i>Ice Choir</i> album.<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1p3UZ3qRmDSSGzv38sY2xLkAgqPs2z8AiDAFwI92hw7mlB5dMwt9cOyyjJTwrSb7j71NhyphenhyphenVV6Ul3E0S9NgqA_8CAnWFZiC3WryYW6HJlakFMV4yQ1Pgs_J0SUMWb9ip70St6cGsaREE0/s1600/afar.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="700" data-original-width="700" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1p3UZ3qRmDSSGzv38sY2xLkAgqPs2z8AiDAFwI92hw7mlB5dMwt9cOyyjJTwrSb7j71NhyphenhyphenVV6Ul3E0S9NgqA_8CAnWFZiC3WryYW6HJlakFMV4yQ1Pgs_J0SUMWb9ip70St6cGsaREE0/s320/afar.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<b><br /></b>
<b>MQ: Who would be your muse? If any?</b><br />
<br />
KF: "Muse" is overly romantic for what I do... I get inspired by music that exists already and then I create a more warped facsimile of it.<br />
<br />
<br />
<b>MQ: Where there any challenges that occured during production with either the <i>Afar </i>album or the <i>Designs in Rhythm </i>album? Any doubts? If so, how did you overcome them?</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
KF: The main thing that sucks about doing everything yourself is that it's impossible to remain objective about your decisions. There's never anyone to sense-check whether your mix is totally f****d or if something is missing from the arrangement, etc. Also, recording and compiling your own vocals is the worst because 'every take is terrible'. You learn to live with the ones that bum you out the least.<br />
<br />
<br />
<b>MQ: What inspired you for creating the songs <i>Visions of Hell 1996</i>, <i>Afar, </i>or<i> I Want You Now and Always</i>? (By the way, your collaboration with Caroline Polachek for <i>Everything is Spoilt by Use </i>is incredible). </b><br />
<b><br /></b>
KF: Columbine, Whimsy, and Obsession (Respectively)
<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/-gny9UfOEww" width="560"></iframe>
<b><br /></b>
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<b>MQ: Correct me if I'm wrong, but I understand that you do music scores for marketing and advertisement as well. What is that process like? How do you draw in music for a product?</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
KF: Yeah, I work for an audio branding company called <i><a href="http://wearelisten.com/">Listen</a> </i>in Manhattan. Sometimes I make music for advertisements / web / TV / etc. but most of the time I make audio logos (sounds you associate with a brand) and design sounds for apps, etc. We have specific approaches for how we create sounds that are expressions of a brand but I'll spare you those details.<br />
<br />
<br />
<b>MQ: On the track <i>Peacock in the Tall Grass</i>, did you by chance find synthesizer keyboard sounds from the <i>SNES (Super Nintendo Entertainment System) Pilotwings</i> video game (the Rocket Belt score) to help create the score for that particular track?</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
KF: Yeah, I didn't get it from there, although I do love all the sounds and music from that game. On the first <i>Ice Choir</i> album, I was really trying to channel my own sad-boy version of 'wistful hanglider sesh'.<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW5IpjbpghGjMrA8KGUXV-DF4QcJqW-gFQ_E3UzUA4Mc9b_Uig97T_jRorOO281u0cfSy1X_Hy3K1jm9eL-KPl6c_n10-rAj72s_lNO4-CGeacHFj4dMbunYL3_i8aqXRd4M31DAfojk4/s1600/designs+in+rhythm.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW5IpjbpghGjMrA8KGUXV-DF4QcJqW-gFQ_E3UzUA4Mc9b_Uig97T_jRorOO281u0cfSy1X_Hy3K1jm9eL-KPl6c_n10-rAj72s_lNO4-CGeacHFj4dMbunYL3_i8aqXRd4M31DAfojk4/s320/designs+in+rhythm.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<b>MQ: If there were any changes, how did the production for your second album <i>Designs in Rhythm </i>differ from your debut album?</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
KF: I had 3+ more years experience when I finished <i>Designs in Rhythm, </i>so by then I was using a lot of different tools and approaches to songwriting.<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/L4fQt0NnRkw" width="560"></iframe>
<b><br /></b>
<b><br /></b><br />
<b>MQ: How did you even begin to create the works of <i>Variant, Amorous in Your Absence, Unprepared, </i>and<i> Windsurf??</i></b><br />
<b><i><br /></i></b>
KF: I start with a vibe/feel/tempo from some pre-existing song that I want to reference or ripoff and then I just start dicking around on the computer with different chord changes, dressing it up with a bunch of shiny trash until it amuses me.<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/qKDBNrwR3_o" width="560"></iframe>
<b><br /></b>
<b><br /></b><br />
<b>MQ: What do you hope your listeners get from your music? Aside from sales?</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
KF: I've always described <i>Ice Choir</i> as a very low-stakes venture; it's something I do as a fun brain puzzle and for my own professional edification (figuring out new recording / mixing technique, etc.). Writing the song is the valuable aspect for me, and then it goes out into the world where it becomes a useless souvenir. At that point, if someone discovers that bauble and it's charming or funny to them, great...I just don't have a specific audience in mind when I'm writing. Sales? lol.<br />
<br />
<br />
<b>MQ: Any plans for the rest of this year and 2018?</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
KF: I did a <a href="http://gunsport.tv/" style="text-decoration-line: underline;">game soundtrack</a> a couple years ago...I think it might actually be coming out in 2018.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b>For more information on Ice Choir, check out the official website at </b><b><a href="http://icechoir.com/">icechoir.com</a> or check out the other following links</b><br />
<br />
<b><u><a href="https://soundcloud.com/icechoir">Soundcloud/theicechoir</a></u></b><br />
<u><b><a href="https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCP1FPL2hAWQyxDGvXtpuGkA">Youtube/theicechoir</a></b></u><br />
<b><u><a href="https://twitter.com/theicechoir">Twitter/theicechoir</a></u></b><br />
<b><br /></b> Marquez Perezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12469958863020970673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5403676971090617972.post-33920830794333561922017-05-09T18:45:00.002-07:002017-05-09T18:45:37.283-07:00Additional Fees<div class="MsoNormal">
“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.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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“Okay, that will be $244 sir.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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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…”<o:p></o:p></div>
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“I understand your complaint sir, but the maids just updated
the status of your room.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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“STATUS OF MY ROOM?
What do you mean?” The man rest both his forearms on the counter with a look of
disgust.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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“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.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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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?”<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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“They smelt urine in the bathroom, sir.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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The man mouths the words ‘<i>urine-in-the-bathroom</i>’ to himself silently. “It’s a bathroom…”<o:p></o:p></div>
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“They found it in the shower, sir.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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The man stops himself from continuing with his rage speech
and thinks to himself while the woman at the front desk continues typing.<o:p></o:p></div>
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“Well…there might have been…”<o:p></o:p></div>
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“Sir, are you saying that you did or did not have a dog?”<o:p></o:p></div>
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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.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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He turns back around and leans in while speaking under his
breath, “…I uhh….did it.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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“I’m sorry sir, what was that?”<o:p></o:p></div>
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“There was no dog, please waive the charges because….I did
it.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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“Sir, you’re going to have to….”<o:p></o:p></div>
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“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.” <o:p></o:p></div>
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Marquez Perezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12469958863020970673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5403676971090617972.post-59122247692914013782017-04-18T18:02:00.003-07:002017-04-18T18:02:49.754-07:00Sad-Bot <div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Sir, we found him over by the fences.” One of the droids
calls out to the commander.<o:p></o:p></div>
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“Oh no, not again…did you take his down his vitals and
sent up the report?” <o:p></o:p></div>
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“Not yet sir, this time he has really taken a hit.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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“You mean?..”<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“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.<o:p></o:p></div>
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“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.<o:p></o:p></div>
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“I don’t know, sir. We had all our bases covered and
thought all possible threats were eliminated.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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“Obviously not,” The commander responds with a motion
towards the air lift.<o:p></o:p></div>
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“Sir? What it be possible to suspect the cause of this
was due to lack of…”<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“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.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
The commander turns around and heads back into the
command tower with the droid following him.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“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. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
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?” <o:p></o:p></div>
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<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“What is the status of the main droid in the medical
bay?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
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<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“88% recovered, sir.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
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<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Release him, that’s good enough!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Authorizing orders, sir.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
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<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
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.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
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.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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Marquez Perezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12469958863020970673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5403676971090617972.post-47780615905941278622017-04-14T15:59:00.000-07:002017-04-14T15:59:11.487-07:00Dude, Where's my Bike?<div class="MsoNormal">
“Hello this is Jake?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“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.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Oh yeah, are you interested in it?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Well that’s just the thing, honestly I’m not interested in
buying it – mostly because I can’t afford it…”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“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.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Oh yeah, no problem, what are they six speed?” I ask with
faux-confidence.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Yep, one down, five up.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“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. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Yes, I was the one who called earlier about test driving
the bike?” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“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.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“So, you’ve ridden one of these before, right?” Jake yells
over the motor. “Yes, of course I have.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Good,”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The bike snaps into first and as I creep forward, he yells
out, “Have fun,”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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?”.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Who is it!” An angry lady shouts.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I was the one who test drove the bike.” I feebly answer.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“We thought you stole the bike!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I’m sorry, what do you mean? I was only gone for maybe 20 minutes
tops.” I answer back confidently.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“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.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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?<o:p></o:p></div>
Marquez Perezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12469958863020970673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5403676971090617972.post-66220292704128136842017-04-11T16:35:00.000-07:002017-04-11T16:35:36.558-07:00The Waiting Room<div class="MsoNormal">
“So how did you leave Earth?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“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. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Actually yes I did!” Jessica agrees. “Like I didn’t feel
anything, in fact, I remember hearing my favorite song play too,” Jessica
smiles. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“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. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Well? What did they ask you?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Yes tell us,” Another voice pleads.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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,”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Figure what out? Until it is time for what?” Someone asks
abruptly.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The woman simply smiles and replies, “Don’t worry. They’ll
explain everything, they are very lovely people.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
Marquez Perezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12469958863020970673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5403676971090617972.post-63310940703017727772017-04-05T14:04:00.001-07:002017-04-05T14:05:41.567-07:00Don't Push that Button!<div class="MsoNormal">
“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.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Stay
away from me! Don’t come any closer!” Shouts the man.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Okay!
Okay! I don’t want any trouble!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“You
come any closer and I’ll push this button and it’ll all be over! Real fast!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The reporter moves back with his hands up, “I just don’t
want you to push that button!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Don’t
push me!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Just
don’t push that button!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“You’re
pushing my buttons!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The disturbed man’s finger hovers over the large red button.
Beads of sweat form at the crown of his head.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“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…”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“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.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“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!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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!”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The man starts to cry aloud, “How did you find me anyway!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“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.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“What <i>next time</i>?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“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.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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…”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“THERE HE IS! GET HIM!” A team of
police officials storm in and point their weapons at the man.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“I KNEW IT! IT WAS A TRAP!” The
deranged man wipes his eyes and quickly gets up to hit the button.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“NO DON’T…” The reporter yells out
only nano-seconds before everything goes dark. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Marquez Perezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12469958863020970673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5403676971090617972.post-84615583271474439802017-03-24T11:20:00.003-07:002017-03-24T11:20:51.349-07:00"Don't you worry bout a thing"Hello Everyone,<br />
<br />
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!<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/zywDiFdxopU" width="560"></iframe> Marquez Perezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12469958863020970673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5403676971090617972.post-67979661897680025022017-03-08T07:30:00.000-08:002017-03-08T07:30:46.831-08:00Ignorance usually is bliss...<div class="MsoNormal">
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, </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Am I taking you to the party, sir?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“No, just take me home,” And the car rolls forward.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Are you okay, sir?” The driver asked him.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Oh yeah? Well cheer up. There’s always tomorrow.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Yes there is…” Robert knew that that statement was hearsay
which now caused him to well up in tears.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Arriving at his quiet apartment on the 34<sup>th</sup>
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.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Marquez Perezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12469958863020970673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5403676971090617972.post-14699922996701800452017-03-02T07:01:00.000-08:002017-03-02T07:01:11.455-08:00Mar-Queso Feature: LOFTäN<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5_g_TJwVvOUxRAUE7dDg5dPkWFdFS1BEqb_ajaolZ6t0Cn0cygMPj5zkmPg2B3DQuybixhAG2X58I2UoO82Y2_dKw0uAFjPsImFrh5jyQTCYWPVvIeK-Hjve5y3VIkp0lFFzTMJmHK54/s1600/loftan.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5_g_TJwVvOUxRAUE7dDg5dPkWFdFS1BEqb_ajaolZ6t0Cn0cygMPj5zkmPg2B3DQuybixhAG2X58I2UoO82Y2_dKw0uAFjPsImFrh5jyQTCYWPVvIeK-Hjve5y3VIkp0lFFzTMJmHK54/s400/loftan.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: 6pt; text-align: center;">Photo
courtesy of Sam Gehrke</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 6.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 8.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></b>
<b><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">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 so</span></b><b><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">me 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.</span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></b>
<b><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">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?</span></b><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">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!</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
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<span style="font-size: 8px; text-align: center;">Photo courtesy of Sam Gehrke</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">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!</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">MQ: What an amazing story! How did you both synch
your musical styles and genius being from lands 5,000 miles apart? </span></b><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">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. </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 6pt; text-align: center;">Photo courtesy of Vince Panero</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">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. </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">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?</span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">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.</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 6pt;">Photo courtesy of Vince Panero</span><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">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.</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">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. </span></b><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">Janell: Awe that is so lovely to hear thank you
for the compliment and the kind words! What a compliment!</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">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.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 6pt;">Photo courtesy of Vince Panero</span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">MQ: How about Undercover Girl?</span></b><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">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.</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-weight: bold;">MQ: I just have a couple more questions</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">. </span><b><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">I 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?</span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">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!</span><br />
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<b><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">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?</span></b><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">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.</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">MQ: Can’t wait! Julia and Janell thank you so much
for doing this. </span></b><br />
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<b><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"> </span></b><span style="font-size: 8px; text-align: center;">Photo courtesy of Sam Gehrke</span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">For more information on Loftan, you can find
them on their website </span></b><b><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><u><a href="http://www.thebandloftan.com/">www.thebandloftan.com</a></u> or check them out on the following links<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><b><a href="http://twitter.com/thebandloftan">Twitter.com/thebandloftan</a></b></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><a href="http://facebook.com/thebandloftan">Facebook.com/thebandloftan</a><o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><b><a href="http://instagram.com/thebandloftan">Instagram.com/thebandloftan</a></b></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">Be sure to see their latest music video
premiering below:<o:p></o:p></span></b><br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/XU6H_OwFf34" width="560"></iframe> Marquez Perezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12469958863020970673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5403676971090617972.post-77428050346218933612017-02-28T15:21:00.000-08:002017-02-28T15:21:00.480-08:00I am not a doctor...<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p> </o:p>Please come in, have a seat Doctor Mario. How are you today?</div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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I’m fine thank you. How
are you?<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Doing well. Now I was looking over your application. You
have applied for the chief surgeon </div>
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position here at the Mercy Memorial hospital,
and I just had some questions.</div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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Go ahead.<o:p></o:p></div>
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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.<o:p></o:p></div>
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…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.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Right..well I don’t see any references or contact numbers
listed on your resume<o:p></o:p></div>
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I was the best at what
I did.<o:p></o:p></div>
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And what was that? It says here that you specialized in…viruses?<o:p></o:p></div>
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That is correct.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Any in particular? Like the recent type 1 VP26 protein? Or
the potato virus X?<o:p></o:p></div>
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More like the red,
yellow, and blue ones.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Ok..<o:p></o:p></div>
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Look, I’ve done over
several hundred operations. I’ve even gone up to level 21.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
What is level 21? What does that mean?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;">
<br /></div>
<div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;">
90 viruses or more, you
have to think fast and move quickly in matching the colors.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
…I can see there is definitely a language barrier here.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;">
<br /></div>
<div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;">
The only barriers are
when you mismatch the colors to the viruses.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Oh, I have to take this. Hello? Yes. He’s right here.
Okay..I’ll send him up. Thank you.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;">
<br /></div>
<div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;">
Who was that?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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.
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Marquez Perezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12469958863020970673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5403676971090617972.post-54111072337738160882017-02-24T07:33:00.001-08:002017-02-24T07:33:56.648-08:005 Squad Cars, 4 Engines, an Ambulance and a Chief at 1 House<div class="MsoNormal">
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. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“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.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“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.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I don’t know, but there was something like this a couple of
days ago down the street where I’m at.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“What happened?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I couldn’t really tell because they…” He is interrupted as
some shouting comes from inside the house they are surrounding.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“…just take
it easy…we are getting you out of your house…will take care of you…walk slowly…”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“…I’M
NOT LEAVING…THIS HOUSE HAS BEEN HERE SINCE….”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Can you hear anything from inside there?” I ask. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Not really, but I think they are trying to evacuate whoever
is in there.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“…YOU
COME IN HERE…AND TRY TO TAKE ME…ALL BECAUSE THAT…FACTORY OR PLANT…IS MISMANAGED…”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“…we
just want to help…please…with us…”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“…HOW
MANY OTHERS HAVE BEEN INFECTED…HOW ARE YOU...FIX THIS…”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I heard something about a –”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“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. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Did this happen at the one you
saw?” I yell to the other guy as we run to take cover.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Marquez Perezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12469958863020970673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5403676971090617972.post-40445458430273625482017-02-21T07:19:00.000-08:002017-02-21T07:19:56.060-08:00No Tip, No Peace<div class="MsoNormal">
“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.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Who’s got it this time?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I paid last time – “<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“NO YOU DIDN’T! I DID.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Right, you gave me the money to pay for the orders, so
technically I’m covered.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“YOU’RE FULL OF CRAP!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“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.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I don’t know, she’s out of my league.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“C’mon, stop that. Y.O.L.O.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Did you get that from SPIKE T.V. or something?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“NO, it means, you only live once.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The waitress comes back smiling at the modest one, “Thank
you!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“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.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“YOU DID IT MAN, I DIDN’T KNOW YOU HAD IT IN YOU!” They say
to him as he holds her number in disbelief.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“More like you guys did it, all I did was take up breathing
space.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“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. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Oh what about the tip?” The other three search their
pockets, “I don’t have any cash on me, it’s fine. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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).<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“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. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“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.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“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?” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She tilts
her head to the side with her hands on her hips. “…umm well I’m a commercial developer
and I –”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“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!!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The crowd in the restaurant cheer and whistle for the
waitress as the front doors slam shut.<br />
<!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--><br />
<!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Marquez Perezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12469958863020970673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5403676971090617972.post-78033743519476173792017-02-16T06:58:00.001-08:002017-08-10T13:59:03.152-07:00Progress Report - Sound Structure Excerpt<div class="MsoNormal">
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:<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“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 ‘<i>casual evening’</i>. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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: <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>No More Mountain .
. .<o:p></o:p></i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i><br /></i></div>
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/HsFbHEj6WyA" width="560"></iframe>
Marquez Perezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12469958863020970673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5403676971090617972.post-9729492824928979082017-02-14T07:09:00.001-08:002017-02-14T07:54:40.111-08:00The Foreigner<div class="MsoNormal">
“So sorry for interrupting Mr. Coombs, go ahead and continue
– please.” The doctor says.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“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 <i>Waiting for a Girl like you </i>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.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“So…you were in a state of mind? Perhaps? Or was this…real?”
The doctor tries to elaborate on his statement.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“No, it was real alright.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“How did you know you were thirty years into the past?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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 <i>Evil Dead</i> 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?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“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.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
"Out of all the days, I ride down that street, <i>and just like that everything is all decorated for nostalgia?</i> I don't think so..." Mr. Coombs says discouraged.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I can’t believe I’m paying you two hundred an hour to tell
me what I could’ve looked up on Google! </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Look, the fact is <i>I was</i> 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.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The doctor clicks his pen followed by scribbling on a
notepad, “Why 1981? Is there a connection with that specific year?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Other than the fact that that song was released during that
time, no.” Mr. Coombs says while laying back down.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“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.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“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 <i>could</i>.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“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.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I appreciate your time, but in all honesty, it was mistake
coming here. I have to go.” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Mr. Coombs gets up to retrieve his coat from the
rack.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“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. <o:p></o:p></div>
Marquez Perezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12469958863020970673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5403676971090617972.post-76272955844885656022017-02-07T15:12:00.001-08:002017-02-07T15:12:28.062-08:00The Mountain Lion Theory<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
The Pacific Crest Trail, Mile 734 – 20 Miles
before Crabtree Meadows, July 1995<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Okay so walk me through how you get to that sand dungeon
again?” Ben asks as he is adjusting his sleeping bag.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“That game has been out for four years now, how are you
just now playing it?” Mike questions him.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
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. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“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.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“….did you hear that?” His voice breaks the long silence.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“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.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“No, no…it sounded like paw steps.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“<i>Paw steps??” </i>Ben
emphasizes with grief.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
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.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“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.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“I don’t know man, but I love all of her quotes. They are
so beautiful, no one talks like that anymore.” Answers Ben.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Dude, THEY ARE GOING TO COME IN OUR TENTS AND SLASH US
UP AND EAT US!” Rick yells out of panic.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“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.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Hey Rick, I have this theory.” Mike tries to start but
is already scoffed by Ben.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“What? What is the theory?” Rick asks.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
With a sigh, Mike continues, “Alright so house cats are
in the same family as big cats, right?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Well sort of, but I don’t see where you…”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“So usually family members can sense eachother and are
aware of their own kind.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“….okay?? Where are you going with this?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“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.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“….or the mountain lion will think you brought an
appetizer before getting to <i>YOU</i> as
the main course..” Rick answers very annoyed.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“I don’t see it that way.” Mike objects.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“HOW DO YOU NOT SEE IT THAT WAY??”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“But the house cat is family,”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“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.’”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Ben starts to laugh, “It’s like he is getting us through
bouncer security,”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“SSHHHH!”<o:p></o:p></div>
Marquez Perezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12469958863020970673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5403676971090617972.post-19071166519909636052017-02-02T15:37:00.001-08:002017-02-02T15:37:04.526-08:00Mount Up<div class="MsoNormal">
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.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Peter, you can do this! Stop hesitating!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Why did I ever let you talk me into this? I can’t…do this!
You drive!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Peter used to be a hill climber for tournaments worldwide
however suffered a major accident leaving him almost paralyzed. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“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.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“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. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Peter’s thumb weighs in heavier than usual on the throttle
causing the RPMs to slightly spike. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“BETTER ALIVE THAN DEAD!” Peter shouts<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“TO LIVE IN FEAR IS TO NOT LIVE AT ALL!” Jim replies angrily<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Didn’t you get that from an 80’s movie?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Jim slaps the back of his helmet, “JUST SHUTUP AND GET US UP
THAT HILL!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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. <o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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. <o:p></o:p></div>
Marquez Perezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12469958863020970673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5403676971090617972.post-20841319692317877672017-01-31T08:19:00.003-08:002017-01-31T08:19:47.624-08:00Mended Hearts Crossing<div class="MsoNormal">
“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. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“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. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Excuse me, <i>FRAMED</i>?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Tyler planted that in her locker and now everyone thinks
that she is a druggie.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“<i>YOU ARE 14 YEARS OLD
AND I’M ALREADY HAVING THIS CONVERSATION WITH YOU??” </i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The mother yells
looking over to Jess.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“MOM LOOK OUT!!!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Her mother opens her eyes with her hands midway raised as if
about to push something away. “I’m fine dear, are you okay?” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Jess starts to cry, “I’m fine mom but the airbags didn’t
deploy,”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I know sweetie. Can you move?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Yeah, I think so.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“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.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Do you think it was quick? Do you think she felt anything?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There is silence while the mother approaches her daughter
and kneels down.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Look mom, I’m sorry about lying to you. I don’t want to
lose your trust.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Jess is encircled by her mother.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
"And I need to trust you more and be more open to hearing your side of the story.<br />
<br />
"I'm so sorry mom."</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“It’s okay, it’s okay.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i> </i> <o:p></o:p></div>
Marquez Perezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12469958863020970673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5403676971090617972.post-39842315772688479292017-01-26T07:06:00.000-08:002017-01-26T07:06:00.458-08:00GWARs in my closet!!<div class="MsoNormal">
“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.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Who told you there were space mutants in your closet?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Ricky from school. He says they play really scary music and
they eat people and violate primate animals, whatever that means.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“He does?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Yes, he needs to get his facts straight about who
these…space mutants really are.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The boy sits up in his bed with excitement, “Who are they
REALLY??”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“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?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Who made them?” Asked the boy.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“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.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Well if that’s true, why did Ricky say that they eat humans
and live on earth and were frozen in Antarctica?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Who are you going to believe? Ricky or your old man?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The boy smiles, “You, dad.” He lays back into his bed and
turns over already asleep.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Marquez Perezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12469958863020970673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5403676971090617972.post-39788532438017153402017-01-24T06:38:00.000-08:002017-01-24T06:38:46.537-08:00Mar-Queso Feature: DAVID A. SMITH<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf4NEvYAUHUFMKtJus8gvgftVKj-607OkDzO-GPWRwFCWtUSqn9DSi9Ux1C6XxICfspBXGFuz48eruSJf5vqf5kdckQKdbrYUluwTHF_G1rVcku23sv0gloUdnXiqrO8T3XXx_SK7oanU/s1600/David+A.+Smith+Profile.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf4NEvYAUHUFMKtJus8gvgftVKj-607OkDzO-GPWRwFCWtUSqn9DSi9Ux1C6XxICfspBXGFuz48eruSJf5vqf5kdckQKdbrYUluwTHF_G1rVcku23sv0gloUdnXiqrO8T3XXx_SK7oanU/s400/David+A.+Smith+Profile.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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.<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>MQ: How did you get
into photography? How many years have you been doing it?<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>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?<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>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)?</b> <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>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?<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>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?<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>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?<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>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?<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>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?<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
For more information and to see his work, you can visit his sites at the following links:</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="http://dsmithscenes.com/">dsmithscenes.com</a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p><a href="http://dsmithimages.com/">dsmithimages.com</a></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Marquez Perezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12469958863020970673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5403676971090617972.post-42072423058680881402017-01-17T08:30:00.000-08:002017-01-17T08:30:18.875-08:00Stop and Stare<div style="text-align: center;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdKKKQa746x2ch26eAGp6AYoW3gFVH1HmNM_oWKN6zI15Lu-KUS51bFGPsbJqjwE_wVoz86QcLuXacCaXtoVaHhGi0Fs7z666hs_1z4oe-VQyfmSNGe4sYEegoEqQAwxB1IEYFvca2u7s/s1600/Gallon+City+Revised+Cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="275" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdKKKQa746x2ch26eAGp6AYoW3gFVH1HmNM_oWKN6zI15Lu-KUS51bFGPsbJqjwE_wVoz86QcLuXacCaXtoVaHhGi0Fs7z666hs_1z4oe-VQyfmSNGe4sYEegoEqQAwxB1IEYFvca2u7s/s400/Gallon+City+Revised+Cover.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<span id="goog_396586227"></span><span id="goog_396586228"></span><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
For today's post, I just wanted to share this "wannabe" book cover art that I was messing around with for another potential project that I may endeavor on in a distant future. I have already shared a few "samples" from the beginning chapters. This was from a creative writing exercise from way-back-when. I always marveled at book covers. The whole process with what the artist does to try to sum up a novel in just an image is fascinating. I mean they set the tone of the story and what it could reveal prior to the reader beginning the journey. They do say that you should never judge a book by it's cover, but some of them just make you stop and stare, I guess...</div>
</div>
Marquez Perezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12469958863020970673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5403676971090617972.post-23409971489608451912017-01-12T07:34:00.000-08:002017-01-12T07:35:47.962-08:001-800-555-BURN<div class="MsoNormal">
“<i>Press ZERO or say
REPRESENTATIVE to reach an operator”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Representative,” The caller says with some authority.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>“Please hold for the
next available associate. Your call may be monitored or recorded for quality
assurance purposes.” </i>The cheap jazz queues in following the automated
message.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
23 MINUTES LATER<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Good Afternoon and thank you for calling <i>So Cool Entertainment</i>, my name is
Jillian representative number 332602. How may I help you today?” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Yes, hi Jillian, I have been trying to cancel my account
for a couple of months now, and I keep getting blown off or transferred with
some ridiculous wait time and counter offered with more stuff that I will have
to pay for later on. Jillian, I think you are the one to help me out here.
Please, I want to cancel this account. I don’t ever remember signing up for
this. I just bought one DVD at one of your stores and they tried to sign me up
with all kinds of useless stuff. I’m done, help me.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There is a pause on the other end of the line as Jillian is
heard typing at her keyboard.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Ok, well I apologize for the inconvenience and certainly we
can help you out by cancelling your accounts.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Wait a minute, accounts? Like there’s more than one?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I’m showing you have the VIP Package, Backdoor Pass, MVP
bundle, and the Stardom Rewards Card.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, they never mentioned anything about all
of those! How much has that been costing me?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I’m showing on your profile that it has accumulated over 2,300
dollars.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“What?! Are you mad?? I’m not paying that!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Ok, well then, let me see what I can do,” She continues to
click away on her keyboard through the receiving end of the phone. “I can sign
you up for a no interest for the first year line of credit to any of our chain
stores in the country.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I WANTED TO CANCEL EVERYTHING! What does that have to do
with helping me out with this past due amount?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I apologize again, sir. I am looking into another program
on how we can reduce the interest on that account.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I don’t want any more accounts, I just would like to cancel
this altogether and not pay that absurd amount, is that possible, please.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I apologize, sir. The computer is not letting me remove
your account unless the debt has been paid.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Look, just put me through to your manager. I need to speak
to whoever is in charge, right now.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Please hold.” The cheap jazz queues in for a blip and then
another voice comes on.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Hello this is Derek. How can I help you?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Yes, hi, are you the manager? I need to cancel all these
accounts I <i>apparently </i>have. But I never remembered signing up for and they are saying that I
owe over 2,000 dollars in interest and membership fees for these accounts. I
never signed up for these.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I’m sorry sir, I am not the manager, the call was
transferred to me just now. If you would like, I can get the manager for you
but she is out right now. I can take down your name and contact information if
you would like.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“…Sure,”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I’m ready when you are sir.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“It’s Dave Matthews,”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Ok”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Address is <i>123 Any
Street</i>,”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“And is that one word or two?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Two. City is <i>I’m Going</i>,”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Ok, and the state?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“<i>To sue all of you</i>,”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Oh um, I’m not pulling that state up for some reason, is
that in America? Hello? Are you there?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The disgruntled caller hangs up on him.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
Marquez Perezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12469958863020970673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5403676971090617972.post-76322639825511198772017-01-10T07:27:00.000-08:002017-01-10T07:27:11.380-08:00Mar-Queso Feature: EMILY VAJDA<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY2vzVrQLGAaV4BK1SZGXjc3tvxKHCroo_yenyrXUoe-Wl9ZiYdeNSeLcm2BdLpMTFCZguvbvjSu0aOW6ejkAzD9OZxIhY15O2FrMo4MzY6ZiJmBb_JR1dJ2GiAXDAtlnu8cBjHzORmWI/s1600/Emily+Vajda+Profile.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY2vzVrQLGAaV4BK1SZGXjc3tvxKHCroo_yenyrXUoe-Wl9ZiYdeNSeLcm2BdLpMTFCZguvbvjSu0aOW6ejkAzD9OZxIhY15O2FrMo4MzY6ZiJmBb_JR1dJ2GiAXDAtlnu8cBjHzORmWI/s320/Emily+Vajda+Profile.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Hello Everyone! I hope you all had a great holiday and a
happy new year. I have had the privilege of interviewing a fellow writer, blogger,
and friend – Emily Vajda. She is an inspiring writer who shares a wealth of insight from staying motivated in pushing through literary projects to the core of her voice retelling the wonders of life along with all it's crazy and chaotic manifestations on <a href="http://emilyvajda.wordpress.com/">emilyvajda.wordpress.com</a>. She is also known for singing, and acting. She works for
a literary agency and resides in Seattle, WA.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>MQ: After doing some
research, I came across your Facebook page and noticed that you work for
Kimberely Cameron and Associates. This sounds crazy but I actually queried them
once (looking back, I was mortified, because my book was at the time nowhere
near ready). With that, what has been your personal “rule of thumb” for a
successful query?<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
EV: I think you
answered that question already. I would say a successful query is a query that
is polished, that is, a manuscript that is polished. I don’t just mean one
draft, we’re talking five, maybe ten drafts later. I encourage writers to find
an editor to look over the MS before querying. Having an editor’s eye is
invaluable and worth every single penny. I also encourage people to resubmit
with revised pages. Happy to hear that you queried our agency, but don’t give
up. Polish those pages, spend another six months revising, and try again.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>MQ: From your
experience at writer’s conferences, what should a first time attendee expect?
What are some DO’s and DON’T’s?<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
EV: I recently attended my first conference and I was SO
nervous, I had no idea what to expect. What I found out was that the conference
will be what you make of it. I found it an incredible way to network and begin
to build a writerly community, and brought little business cards I had made
that week, to slip to people I met in order to keep in contact. The business
card had my name, facebook, twitter, and website info, as well as my novel’s
information.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
DO spend the money to pitch to agents and editors in person
at the conference – it is worth it! It gives you a chance to get to know these
agents and editors and to see if you are a good fit personality-wise, not just
genre-wise. Don’t feel as though you need to have a polished MS at that time –
be a good three drafts in, for sure, but go ahead and pitch. If an agent is
interested and your MS isn’t ready, don’t send it to them. The agent will wait.
You get one chance, and you want the product you send to be bullet-proof.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
DON’T talk about yourself too much. So often you see people
networking and schmoozing, but only to get their own name out there into the
literary world. Listen to others. Let them talk to you too. Build a
relationship and BAM – you’ve got a literary contact.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>MQ: I apologize if
this comes off too personal, but what advice have you received in the past as a
writer?<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
EV: Advice that I have received as a writer is to read. You
won’t be a good writer unless you’re a good reader. So take the time to read
all different genres, good AND bad examples of literature. There is something
to be said about learning what NOT to do when you read a poorly written book.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>MQ: Last question, I’ve
noticed that self-publishing has been gaining more popularity than ever. However,
I am still biased to the traditional publishing world, what are the pro’s to
still going the traditional route?<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
EV: I’m biased to the
traditional publishing route as well and I won’t self-publish my novel
until/unless every single agent/editor has rejected my novel. A huge PRO for
traditional publishing is that by being published, it is as though there is
already a brand stamped onto your book that it has been deemed worthy. Because “anyone”
can self-publish these days, it is hard to find a way to stand out amongst the
crowd. However, when you have a publishing house, you’re already one step
ahead. Also, I think, at least for me, being traditionally published is the way
that I want to begin my career and build my career. A huge CON to
self-publishing is that, sure, it’s easy and fast, and it feels good to see
your work published. However, once you self-publish, it is very challenging to
go back to the traditional route. Most agents will not even look at material
that has been self-published, so you need to be prepared to submit brand new
material to an agent. <o:p></o:p></div>
Marquez Perezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12469958863020970673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5403676971090617972.post-38115742790014006992017-01-05T08:23:00.000-08:002017-01-05T08:23:41.376-08:00iWish<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4gwcaDNpbFU3lPCAfmUefCSV0zCC2Q4ygAercFJAJyubhlIhfy32QY6tIuPSlkNEPTeSUWfuVtfsalMKpKEg9JGWip1Se_jsUKqTk7FF0DWju04M7DA2BQyK8kH7ivLDp2dL-ksCKhyphenhyphen4/s1600/iWISH+Photo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4gwcaDNpbFU3lPCAfmUefCSV0zCC2Q4ygAercFJAJyubhlIhfy32QY6tIuPSlkNEPTeSUWfuVtfsalMKpKEg9JGWip1Se_jsUKqTk7FF0DWju04M7DA2BQyK8kH7ivLDp2dL-ksCKhyphenhyphen4/s640/iWISH+Photo.jpg" width="494" /></a></div>
<br />
<span id="goog_349676716"></span><span id="goog_349676717"></span><br /> Marquez Perezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12469958863020970673noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5403676971090617972.post-22642604993436748252017-01-04T06:31:00.000-08:002017-01-04T06:31:30.127-08:00"Can you hoax me now?"<div class="MsoNormal">
“Ok sir, just take it slow, and run it by me again on what
exactly happened.” The police officer asks the cell phone retailer. He sits
there looking very disturbed – almost unable to respond at all.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The police officer leans in a little closer, “Sir, I can’t
leave here until I get a report firsthand on what happened here. Can you help
me out here?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The store is like a cubby built into the grand avenue of
many stores, but out of all the 532 stores, this one was the only one attacked.
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“What happened?” The officer now stands back up with a sigh.
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“He, he just came in – an older man…” The officer starts to
scribble away at the sudden testimony. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“…I believe our other branch serviced him a packaged deal
where you could get two phones for the price of one and have twice the data
versus our competitors and, and…” The retailer pauses mid-sentence as if trying
to work up how to explain the rest. “…go on.” The police officer encourages.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“...and he came into this store – right here, very angry.
Now this was only a month into buying the contract and the phones, but he
started shouting that he thought our service sucked and that our data was only
unlimited because he shouted that it was crap. He then mentioned how he tried
to get out of his contract and that the customer service number kept giving him
the run around. After that I tried to talk to him but said that there was
nothing I could do for him and then he lit up the fireworks.” The retailer
pauses for a moment.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The police officer kneels back down, “Go on, I’m listening,
then what?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“He threw them in the middle of the store and ran out.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“That was it?” The police officer asks.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Yeah,” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“How much damage is the store claiming with the insurance
company?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“About 60,000.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The police officer gets up again. “May I see the
surveillance videos again?” <o:p></o:p></div>
Marquez Perezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12469958863020970673noreply@blogger.com0