The Lesson

The Lesson By Emilio Santoro It was a Saturday, and like most Saturdays Alfredo received a short but welcome visit from his two grand-kids. Their father, Alfredo’s son Maximo, dropped them off around twelve for lunch. Alfredo made sure the kids left their dirty shoes out on the front porch, and then he cooked for them and gave them chocolates and they talked about school and when they asked him questions about how he got his white hair or why he had spots on his hands he entertained them with answers. On this particular Saturday, Fiona (a plump cheeked six year old that liked to wear pigtails) and her twin brother, Felix (a scrawny boy with a brown mop of hair) gave Grandpa Fredo an earful from the moment they stepped in his house with their little bare feet. “Grandpa Fred school was crazy this week.” said Fiona. “Yeah Grandpa, Brian went into the storage closet because he heard that’s where all the birthday cakes were kept and he got in and it was dark and he tripped and cut himself pretty bad on the knee.” Said Felix. “I bet Brian likes cakes” said Alfredo. “Yeah!” the kids said and laughed together at poor fat Brian. “Well who told Brian there was cake there?” Alfredo said. “ I think it was Joey, he is funny” said Fiona. “When Mrs.Gandolfo asked him why he was bleeding Brian said he thought there was cake and everyone laughed at him because he turned red like a tomato” said Felix “Like a FAT tomato” said Fiona and the kids laughed hard. “I hope you kids don’t get in trouble for being silly like that Brian you’re telling me about” said Alfredo, now rocking on his rocking chair. “No way!” said Felix. “We’re smart” said Fiona. Alfredo smiled and thought to himself that his grand-kids were smart. He thought himself a lucky grand-father. “Let me go to the bathroom really quick, you kids be good” “Ok” said the kids. Alfredo returned to the living room and saw his grand-children were not there. He went to his room and found them jumping on his king sized bed. “Let’s go back to the living room, I want to tell y’all something” Alfredo said. After a dozen or so more jumps the kids followed. “While I was in the bathroom I thought a bit about poor Brian, and you know there’s a lesson to be learned here I said to myself” Fiona and Felix were now spinning fast, their arms stretched out. A few seconds later they stopped. They saw their world shift violently and their sense of balance was impaired in a manner that would be familiar in a not so distant future, say in about fifteen years or so from then. They were having a good time. “What are you talking about Granpa?” said Fiona, still dizzy and trying to sit down on the couch. “I’m talking about not too long ago I was like little Fat Brian, except I wasn’t fat. I also believed some tall tale and ended up getting hurt pretty bad. Way worse than Brian.” Alfredo said, somber and grave. Fiona and Felix were feeling better and less dizzy and asked their Grand-father to tell them what happened to him. Their little eyes were zooming on their grand-father’s forehead lines, observing how tense they were. Alfredo was making an effort to remember. They hadn’t seen their grandfather so serious in a long time. Then his face relaxed. “Hey kids I’m in the mood for some chocolate, would you like some Hershey bars?” “Yeah!” they screamed in unison. Chocolate was more gratifying than a silly story. Alfredo ate a chocolate himself, and they were having a good time making fun of how their teeth look silly with chocolate painted all over. “You might not know it, but back in the day I was one of the best tree climbers of my neighborhood. “ Alfredo said, trying to return to his story after the chocolate break. A wet, black spot stood on his left front tooth. Fiona and Felix’s mouth opened and emitted a long O. “How old were you Granpa?” Felix asked. “About six or seven years old” And he kept going, remembering as he produced the story. “Being a good tree climber had its perks though, soon enough there were kids trying to outclimb me. The competition was fierce.” The children’s eyes were glazed on their grand-fathers. In their little heads they were climbing trees right next to their old Granpa. “Of course, some of the kids that tried to be better than me weren’t necessarily the nicest kids either. Those kids that try to bring you down when you’re doing good at football or basketball or climbing trees, you know?” Fiona thought of Lila, the girl that made fun of her drawings and of her pigtails. Felix thought of Vince, the kid that every once in a while liked to chuck things at him, like basketballs on the face or stomach. Alfredo kept telling his story. “When I was young, and I don’t think it was just because I was young but because that’s how I’ve always been, I’m naïve and gullible.” “What’s gullible?” Felix interrupted. “That’s when you believe everything people tell you, no matter how ridiculous it may sound.” More O’s from the kids. “Anyways, I was very gullible and even now I’m kinda like that and let me tell you it’s not a good thing when people want to take advantage of that and trick you, you know?” The kids nodded their heads. They were understanding. They were smart kids. “So when I used to climb trees an older kid, I think his name was Ryan, told me that if I climbed a palm tree, grabbed three coconuts from the top, and climbed down with them, once I drank the coconut water I would become the strongest man in the world” “Wow that sounds cool granpa” said Felix. “Felix shut up, what happened granpa?” said Fiona. “Well so the day came and Ryan had been talking and saying that if I really was the best tree climber I should climb the huge palm tree at the local YMCA. When he tried to challenge me like that of course I wanted to do it more than ever to show him that he was wrong. I think it was a Monday, it was after school was over. Ryan and all his stupid friends came over, and lots of girls came too. I was a little nervous, I had never climbed a palm tree, especially one this tall. The palm tree must have been about 25 to 30 feet tall. I really wanted to show everybody what I could do.” Alfredo was rocking on his rocking chair a little faster. He rocked and he rocked. “So I started climbing. My past experience proved invaluable. I wrapped my legs and arms around the trunk and climbed my way up slowly at first but I got to the top relatively easy. Then I grabbed three coconuts and started my way down. I was doing alright kids, I really was. The crowd was going crazy, some of my friends were cheering at me, yelling ‘Fre-do! Fre-do! I thought Ryan must have been pretty pissed off right then” The kids gasped. “Im sorry kids, don’t use that word ok? And don’t tell your parents I said it” “Ok granpa” the kids said. “All of a sudden I heard a beautiful voice, or at least the most beautiful voice I had heard at that age, way before I met your granma, that’s for sure. I looked down and it was Claudia, looking cute as a button. She gave me a thumbs up and smiled at me. I was climbing down allright, but I was taking my time because what I used a bag to put the coconuts in and that made my grip a little weaker on the left hand. I wanted to wave or at the least give her a thumbs up. Sometimes in those kinds of situations the brain is going through so much stress that the wrong choice is made. Instead of attempting some kind of salutation to Claudia with the hand that held the bag, I tried to giver her a thumbs up with my free hand. Well guess what happened? I lost my balance and fell really hard. I got taken to the hospital, fractured my shoulder, and made a fool of myself in front of Ryan and Claudia and all the kids cheering for me. All because I believed Ryan’s stupid story, that of course wasn’t true. At least I hope it wasn’t true. I haven’t broken a bone since.” The kid’s were wowing and looking at each other in disbelief. “So what’s the lesson?” said Fiona in a tone of complain. “What do you mean what is the lesson?” said Alfredo. “I know!” said Felix. “Shut up stupid!” said Fiona. “The lesson is not to believe people’s tall tales so that stupid things won’t happen to us.” Said Felix beaming. “Ahhh, I guess I do have smart grand-kids.” Said Alfredo. “More like a smart grand-son.” Said Felix. “Shut up shutupshutup!” said Fiona. “But wait granpa.” Said Felix. “What is it Felix?” said Alfredo. “Your story is pretty crazy granpa” said Felix. Alfredo frowned, trying to hide how proud he was of his grand-son. “Do you think your own grand-father, the father of your father, would lie to you Felix?” “Uh, no. I guess not granpa.” Felix said, noticeably starting to feel sorry about what he said. “ Do you want proof that my story is true Felix? You too Fiona?” said Alfredo. After a slight silence, the kids nodded their heads. Alfredo didn’t say anything else. He unbuttoned his shirt, took the right arm out of its sleeve, and showed them the scar. A thick, pink, undulating worm. Fiona and Felix didn’t say anything. They just ran out of the living room and sat on the porch stairs. Fiona whispered to her brother. “Did you see that, did you see?” Felix looked at her with scared eyes and said yes. Alfredo went to the porch to check on them. “Are you allright kids?” Fiona and Felix said they were fine. Then Fiona asked. “Can we see it again?” Alfredo showed her. A thick, pink, worm. The kids looked at it in utter fear. “I’m going to the bathroom, being old has its perks.” Said Alfredo, and headed to a door with a little sign his late wife had bought that said “Pipi Room”. Once in the bathroom, Alfredo took off his shirt and peeled off the pink silicon rubber sticking to his skin and flushed it down the toilet.

Thomas Pynchon's Inherent Vice: A Review

Inherent Vice is a book about the sixties and how eerily it can resemble the America of today. Thomas Pynchon is known in american literature as a writer of complicated, long books, with even more complicated prose(before this book i had only read The Crying of Lot 49, his shortest book at 130 so pages that is still relatively a hard read). In this book we find that same quirky and elongated paragraphs, and the same sense of humor and general paranoia that I found in The Crying of Lot 49. Pynchon can make connections with most readers by writing about a beloved era, the 60's and 70's and that makes this perhaps an accesible book. Doc Sportello, the main character and PI of the story, lives in a constant cannabis-induced hazed that doesn't help at all when his ex-girlfriend Shasta asks him to help her find her millionaire boyfriend, from then on the story is full of crazy ass characters and lots of "groovy" talk, dig?

Allusions of every type (music, film, literary) are found sprinkled all over the book, (Rocio Durcal and Tom Jobim being the ones I felt more than pleased and surprised by)as well as obvious references to the american detective fiction tradition. Pynchon's take on the detective story is all his own, the plot still as hard to follow as most works of this kind(well theres a lot of weed in the book, so its understandably so)and having Doc solve problems by recollecting epic acid trip hallucinatory facts can be either awesome (to me) or very silly. The lengthy landscape descriptions can also be seen as a tribute to this venerable genre. But is the book good? Yes. Does the book has it's draggy parts? Yes, and thats it's only defect, because in its own way, the book illustrates perfectly the deception and dissapointment of those people who lived in the hippy era and suddenly are faced with the Manson murders, and even more, with the end of "free love" and all that that entails.

On a more personal view of this book, Doc as a character is incredibly easy to sympathize with. He smokes kools, he constantly smokes not shitty weed, but "righteous" weed, eats food all the time, is strangely romantic (though pynchon's sex scenes where nothing more that a beautiful set up and then the dissapointing "they started fucking" or "they fucked"). The dialogue is entertaining, but as a man of the 2000's it was hard for me to able to tell if the exaggerated sixties speak was realistic or not, nevertheless as I said, the dialogue was smart and funny.

So how does this book reflect the America of today? Paranoia, A more and more relaxed "moral" stance on drugs, promiscuity, and the reality of the internet (something that he touched upon towards the end of the book but in a very strong manner, by suggesting the use of technology to not divide, but unite humanity)are things that should resonate to anybody living in the USA of today. The "haze" that Doc is always in can be very easy to parallel with the perpetual "lost" status of man (for good or for worse). Though this points of reflexion come into mind through the reading of the book, the book never focuses on these, succesfully giving the book an "after the reading" depth that I thought wasn't there at first. Pynchon fascinates because though an old soul (72 says faithful wiki)he seems to be very much in touch with the world around him, and his encyclopaedic references show him to be indeed a well rounded man's man. Inherent Vice is the testament of a man who can still have fun writing a book and majestically shares this fun with his readers.

A Cover

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Inglorious Basterds: a review

I wasn't too excited about this movie after Tarantino's flop with "Deathproof". "Inglorious Basterds" proved me wrong and proved why even though Tarantino is just human and can fuck up, he can still make good movies and is perhaps still one of the most unique directors now a days. His firm grasp on entertaining and powerful scriptwriting and photography is displayed in a grand manner and by the gallons. The movie started with a black screen, the trademark Tarantino font used in Pulp Fiction, and a good song, and I knew right away that Tarantino wasnt going to dissapoint, in fact I might have been salivating (there's something to the opening credits in a Tarantino movie that is always so EPIC).

Quentin focused on his strengths for this film; fast action shoot-outs, humor in the midst of violence, amazing usage of music and dialogue as foreshadow, etc. The acting is superb, Brad Pitt, even though in my opinion a not very consistent actor, impresses everytime he is set in a relatively light-hearted character and he is actually funny and likable as Lt.Rain.

The plot miniutae is rather non-important (for the review's sake, I dont want to give the plot's details away, plus if the trailer is seen it gives a pretty good idea of what it is) for its really a typical Tarantino plot, except this time its actually in chronological order. Though a simple story of lets try to kill as many nazis as we can is at hand (the theme is revenge, again nothing new with Tarantino, but something he can do well),the pace of the story and the obvious self-consciousness of how ridiculous the movie gets adds an ironic, comical feel to it. The audience, or at least the audience familiar with his work should notice this ironic feel to the movie, and that Tarantino finally doesn't take himself as seriously as he used to. Maybe thats why Death Proof wasnt that good, because in that movie he is trying to make a good movie with less than half the amount of time his movies usually last. On the other hand, "Basterds" finds a mature Tarantino that knows has nothing more to prove as a director, and it shows in the light-hearted comical scenes that he achieves with the help of the excellent acting. All the actors, no matter how minimal the role was incredibly well cast, but there should be a special mention to Christoph Waltz, the guy that plays the German Nazi detective more than well.

New song "Relaxsation"

Also coming soon, a review of Thomas Pynchon's new book, Inherent Vice and of Henry Miller's "Tropic of Cancer".

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Musik

La cancion es parte de la serie de canciones instrumentales "Summer". Esta se llama "Borges". que snobismo.

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Three songs of Summer.

I've written this three songs during the summer and I like the fact that I dont sing in two of them. Very much shamelessly inspired by Ben Chasny (Six Organs of Admittance). I hope you like them.

You Are in It Forever- Guitars played by me and Chris Bowcutt.

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A Summer Meditation- a loose, very loose thematic composition.

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When Your Gone-The voice is sadly mine too. I think it's cute in its simplicity.

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Pale Fire- Vladimir Nabokov

A book for people who don't mind wasting their time reading, that is for people who read willingly. Pale Fire is a multi-dimensional book, a playfully written book that was probably more fun for the writer to write than for the reader to read (at the end of a boring, extremely boring annotation the following cruel words-"I trust the reader has enjoyed this note"). This is the plot, a poem called Pale Fire, by an american deceased writer named John Shade, is published and annotated by a "friend", his scholarly neighbor Charles Kinbote. That's it. Preceded by an introduction by Kinbote, the poem is 999 lines and is in itself a good poem. Kinbote's commentary, or if you will, his reading of the poem is what gives the poem/novel it's amazing depth. Charles Kinbote might or might not be crazy, for his commentary is unusually personal, effectively making him the main character of the "novel", and many times the commentary really seems to be off, as in having nothing to do with what the poem is obviously about, John Shade's life. Withing the commentary Kinbote tries to convince the reader that the poem is about the far away kingdom he is from (Zembla) and it's last king.

If it wasnt for Mr. Nabokov's exquisite prose, his humor, and his borgesian sense of irony, this book could well have fallen flat in the hands of any other writer. Nabokov's usual themes of memory, invented memories, the past, literature, and strange coincidences is here, as well as his penchant for creating extreme and quirky characters, but what is truly rewarding is how the book embodies the relationship between reader/text/writer. John Shade doesn't write for Kinbote, but Kinbote feels it so (and what dedicated reader doesnt feel like that about an admired writer?). In a way, Nabokov cancels out the reader's perception of the story by giving it a fictional one in the form of Kinbote's commentaries, and through this notes, Nabokov mocks, yes, he elegantly mocks the love that takes readers of all kinds to read into books their own lives or other peoples lives or metaphores or whatever. Perhaps Mr. Nabokov understood better than anyone the miscommunications possible, actually the impossibility of complete communication when the reader faces the writer's text. Therefore, in an endearingly quirky way, Nabokov tells us through this book, that without a reader and his imagination, a poem, a novel, a short story or any text would be incredibly flat and incomplete without a co-creator, that is without a reader. Pale Fire, the novel, wouldn't be the novel it is without the crazy Kinbote, just like any text isn't complete until it is actually imagined or seen/read in the mind of a reader. This is what's so rewarding about Pale Fire (though boring it can get), the illustration of this symbiotic relationship between the writer/reader.

And then of course there's the word games and puns and language that are nothing but stimulating (though most linguistic games and references probably went over my head).

La Quinta Columna: Capitulo 2-Rick Moody

Pero, escúchenme antes que componga un capítulo de seis pulgadas sobre el convento, sobre el Capítulo del Medio-Oeste de la Asociación para un Apocalipsis y Pestilencia Fugaz, y las políticas internecinas pertenecientes, sobre hombres despedidos en Flint con dos adorables hijitas que van a escuelas parroquiales y un día despertaron y comenzaron a acumular montones de municiones marca Rhino y lanzagranadas, o sobre las calladas, las más escalofriantes, las que no tienen hobbies- las que no tienen jardinería o eventos sociales relacionados a la iglesia o reparticiones de comida para los necesitados- las que se encierran y viven para elegantes y teoréticas lineas de conspiración, antes que todo eso tengo que contarles sobre mi pueblito de Toledo, Ohio. Sobre la forma en que se abre encima de un lago, sobre como era cuando era una niña y habia gente en el borde del agua y las proverbiales tienditas propiedad de las familias locales, y la Calle Principal y una densidad de parroquias religiosas y los toures de los grandes musicales y una sinfonía que siempre tocaba mi pieza favorita, la Obertura 1812 de Tchaikovsky, pero que ahora, como prácticamente cualquier vendedor ambulante de telas o ajustador de demandas te dirá en su propia manera, es un pueblo fantasma: puedes caminar de un extremo al otro, por todo el lago, por los túneles subterráneos, los túneles que algún día conectaron el mall, ese proyecto del Renacimiento de Toledo, a diversos edificios de oficinas- edificios poblados talvéz el treinta porciento en estos días. Mira, allí esta el río, tan negro que debe correr con gasolina de bote, mira ahí esta el lago, limpio y sin róbalos tóxicos, y aquí estan las calles desiertas- desiertas con excepción para las niñas de la profesión más vieja del mundo- y negocios cerrados- con excepción a los stripclubs- El vapor de los reactores nucleares de fermi sopla las banderas quietas de los edificios municipales. El gobierno, el último jefe de las masas y todo esta tan plano, tan increiblemente plano, -podrá estar mas plano que cuando era una niña recien nacida?- tan plano que uno puedo ver esta Ashtabula, o Illinois o Michigan, y la única cosa que se puede ver, la única que invade, que perturba la planitud, es el brazo largo del A.S.A.P.

Toledo, veran, de donde vinimos, después que mi papa dejo el servicio militar, nosotros los 12, once niños y una niña, después que la Acción Policial Koreana- dónde mi papa estuvo en la línea que se enfrentó a los Chinos Rojos, donde fue el anfitrión de ese germen militar, Onchocerca valvulus, tipo B, similar pero no idéntico a la cestoda causante de la ceguera de río; Toledo, con su Río Maumee en llamas; Toledo, donde, después de relocarnos cada tres meses, por años, mi papa estableció mi familia por fin; Toledo, donde en brillantes días de otoño, cuando los carros tipicos andaban por el otro lado del estado, nosotros íbamos, los 14 de nosotros, a la zona de parqueo de la pista de carreras y practicábamos orden militar. Toledo, veran, donde yo fuí la chica más linda que atascó una docena de M-80s al chassis de una televisión de estado sólido marca Zenith! Miren como las chispas vuelan!

El Inmigrante Turista

Estaba sentado en el Malecon 2000 comiendo un suculento plato de salchipapas, viendo el verde y manso rio pasar. En el fondo se escuchaba la musica de Jose Luis Perales. El amor/ es una boca con sabor a miel/ es una lluvia en el atardecer/es un paraguas para dos./ Como un acto de fe, se me ocurre por las puras huevas mirar atras, a ver quien caminaba. Con unos tacos muy altos y una faldita reveladora vi caminar a una cholita rica en mi direccion general, acto seguido la escucho decir una palabrota y para mi horror y fascinacion, la veo escupir un monumental gargajo que por un pelito de verga no aterriza en mi zapato, un gargajazo que mataria de envidia a cualquier estibador. Miro mis salchipapas sabor a miel, miro el culo que se aleja, miro el gargajo, verde como el rio, miro el culo de nuevo. El amor/ es algo entre tu/ y yo. El culo desaparece, se va, y Guayaquil me deja con las ganas de nuevo. Mi ereccion muere, triste, solitaria y final.

The Fifth Column: the biggest post-modern literary joke.

I don't say that as a bad thing. The Fifth Column (not the Hemingway story)is a novel that was published I think sometime around 1996 in the pages of The Village Voice. 15 weeks, 15 chapters, 15 authors (David Foster Wallace, Rick Moody, Irvine Welsh, Jonathan Franzen, etc). An Exquisite Cadaver some people call those types of things. From what I read it seems that most of the writers of this thang are rather fond of wordy, long sentences with a bent towards stream-of-consciousness and solipsism. If I got it somewhat right, the story is about a femme fatale and ex-Miss Ohio named Una, a mercenary that now works in a bar called the Rusty Drum and that might just be a character in a manuscript, that then came back to life to haunt its creator, or she could be a transexual with a mechanical larynx, and it goes from there.

The story obviously doesn't take itself seriously as anything, much less as fiction, a textbook characteristic of "post-modernism". The novel curiously has a life of its own, delineated by the attempts of the authors to one-up each other, screw the story up by sending it in a different direction, or by simply not caring much and writing whatever the fuck they wanted to write. This can be seen in how the first couple of chapters actually try make sense together, the authors try to work with each other and do something with the character and the plot. The changes arrive promptly around chapter five, when things get playfully metafictional, and the rest of the authors embrace that playfulness completely, creating something that at times becomes really funny (in a nerdy way). Self-references to the fact that the thing is an exquisite cadaver are made more than once in the form of body parts mailed in manuscript envelopes to editors, quite clever eh!

In the end, the story is unable to pull itself out of the literary joke zone. It's entertaining, sure. But as good and interesting the joke became through the different obligatory changes that having different authors meant, I feel like it could have been so much more, without taking the funny factor or entertaining factor from it. If the authors would have taken the exquisite cadaver a little more seriously (not too seriously), it could have gone from a pleasant novelty, to a something worth publishing in a large scale. I have to say I am not surprised, for someone like David Foster Wallace (i admiteddly havent read him, but the fact that he has a novel a 1000 pages long tells me something about his chapter of the novel) and his contemporaries doing something like that is totally cool. What I think is not cool is when "post-modernity" goes so far in being "post-modern" that it ends up ironically taking itself seriously by thinking that anything written in a crazed up pace with strange vocabularies and sometimes hard to understand stream-of-consciousness is cool. But what is cool? I dont know. Not being a show-off is cool. Being a show-off for the hell of it, for the sake of post-modernity, not cool.

Proyecto interesante e invitacion.

Parece que meterse a hacer huevadas que uno tal vez no este listo a tacklear puede ser beneficioso. Hace algun tiempo (bastante tiempo, 4 o 5 meses jeje) me ofreci a traducir un cuento de Jensen Whelan, y con el dolor de mi alma todavia no termino. Siete paginitas, me falta una. pero que feo cuento, supongo que funciona, pero me parece debil y con un lenguaje forzado, frases y palabras usadas de forma extrana. Este cuento sera traducido (ojala, mi incapacidad y mi indiferencia talvez cambiaran la historia) para Hermano Cerdo, una revista online que me parece tiene cosas interesantes. Bueno, parece que o por ahi o por blogger, no se, alguien encontro mi mail y me mando este link Enlace: http://joseluisjustes.blogspot.com/2009/06/una-propuesta-de-traduccion.html

Jose Luis tiene una idea muy buena. Traducir una novela "collage" de 15 episodios escrita por 15 escritores gringos. Debo tener buena suerte porque ese tipo de vainas me gustan, sobre todo ahora que ya termine mis clases de verano y tengo un chance de tiempo extra para leer y escribir. Asi que si alguien quiere ayudar con este proyectito apuntense. Yo voy a "tratar" de trabajar con el episodio de Rick Moody. Probablemente leere la novela en ingles y escribire sobre lo que me parecio.

ps.en un par de meses tal vez saque licensia de manager, lo que significaria un alza de salario minimo pero bien agradecido. chevere no? lo que lavar platos y cocinar comida cubana puede hacer. Mr.Manager me van a decir, jajajaja. Manager es la mama de tarzan y la mama de aquella, pero algo es algo en mi hojita de vida.

Y sobre el Blog. Yo voy a escribir en ingles y espanol (y sorry por no tomarme el tiempo con las ennes, soy vago por natura) sobre los topicos en el titulo del blog. por ahora escribire en espanol porque no lo hago lo suficiente.

Reflection

Now that I have had some sort of basic experience with all the different types of communication writing, I have come to realize how specialized these different types of writing can be. I found news writing to be fun, because there are different sub-genres that require different approaches to it. Some, like a current event piece, might have more formal, journalistic writing, while something like a feature piece or an interview might need more of a personal touch, sometimes given by the questions themselves. Interviewing was a lot of fun for me. I had to work hard to find a good interviewee and then even harder once I notice the guy was a little nervous/tense to start with, but it paid off. Broadcast writing wasn't necessarily boring, but i consider it the most technical writing because of the short reading time the texts usually have. Broadcast writing was definitely a welcomed challenge that forced me and taught me how to pick and choose the most essential information, and how to express it in the quickest manner. I am also very glad I now have a blog, because without this class I would never have bothered to start one and now I have all the possibilities and opportunities that a blog can offer (I never thought a blog could be so useful before). This was a very useful class and I have learned a lot about writing in a professional, journalistic way. It was worth my money.

PR ASSIGNMENT

BUDWEISER CLYDESDALES AND NFL STAR BRADY QUINN SHOW UP AT CEDAR POINT AMUSEMENT PARK/RESORT Sandusky, OH/ June 12/ Cedar Point Amusement Park/Resort In an outstanding week full of events, Cedar Point Amusement Park’s world-class roller- coasters will be complemented by the famous Budweiser Clydesdale horses and by NFL star quarterback Brady Quinn. On June 12 at 2 p.m. the world-famed eight-horse team of Clydesdales will parade from the park’s midway to the Wicked Roller Coaster where they will be on display from 1:30 p.m. to 2:00 p.m. and from 2:30 p.m. until 3 p.m. The Clydesdales legendary story began when they were given as a present from August Busch Jr. to August Busch Sr. and Anheuser-Busch in 1933 to celebrate the end of Prohibition. Busch Jr. told his dad that he bought him a new car and when he took him outside he surprised him with a full team of horses. Now these magnificent horses are Budweiser’s brand mascots and make appearances all over the country in special events like the Super Bowl. The Clydesdales are known for their colossal size, measuring up to six feet at the neck and weighing up to 2,300 pounds. Their horseshoes alone are 20 inches and weight five pounds. The Clydesdales will be pulling a completely restored vintage beer wagon and a Dalmatian sits next to the driver as part of the tradition of companionship to the horses. On June 14, Cedar Point Park will have it’s very own special “Brady Quinn Day”. The Columbus native will hold a Q&A with fans at the Game Day Grill at noon and then will pose for pictures until 1:15 pm. Quinn started his remarkable football career by setting 36 school records for the Notre Dame Fighting Irish. He also received the Maxwell Award to College Football’s Player of the Year in 2006. He was a first round draft for the Cleveland Browns in 2007, where he currently plays as a QB.

JEWELRY STORE ROBBED AT GUNPOINT

TWO MEN ARE BEHIND BARS FOR ROBBING A JEWELRY STORE. POLICE SAY THAT THIRTY-FOUR-YEAR-OLD MILES STANDISH AND TWENTY-EIGHT-YEAR-OLD JOHN ALDEN ENTERED THE VILLAGE PAWN SHOP AT TEN-FIFTEEN A.M YESTERDAY. MINUTES LATER ONE OF THE THIEVES DISPLAYED A GUN AND ORDERED ALL CASH AND JEWELRY TO BE PUT IN A BAG. ONLY TWO EMPLOYEES WERE PRESENT BUT ONE IDENTIFIED THEIR VEHICLE AS A BLUE DODGE ARIES. AN HOUR LATER POLICE FOUND A CAR MATCHING THE DESCRIPTION PARKED BY A HOUSE ON WILLOW STREET, THEN PROCEEDED TO ENTER THE HOUSE AND ARREST THE CRIMINALS. BOTH MEN FACE MULTIPLE CHARGES. -30-

HERON BANK BUYS MIDDLEVILLE SAVINGS BANK

HERON BANK IS PURCHASING MIDDLEVILLE SAVINGS BANK FOR EIGHT- POINT- FOUR- MILLION- DOLLARS. HERON BANK PRESIDENT MARY GONZALES SAID SHE IS PLEASED WITH THE FUTURE OPPORTUNITIES. THE TRANSACTION NEEDS THE APPROVAL OF FEDERAL AND STATE BANKING OFFICIALS AND THE COMPLETION OF A THOROUGH INVESTIGATION.

BROADCAST

THE HISTORICAL SALT CREEK BRIDGE WILL RECEIVE TWO-HUNDRED-THOUSAND DOLLARS FOR REPAIRS FROM THE DEPARTMENT OF TRANSPORTATION. BUILT IN EIGHTEEN-THIRTY-FOUR, THE BRIDGE WAS CLOSED IN TWO-THOUSAND-FIVE BECAUSE OF DETERIORATION. THE REPAIRS ARE TEMPORARY, AS PERMANENT REPAIRS COULD COST NEARLY TWO MILLION DOLLARS ACCORDING TO WHIPPLE. -30-

The Largest Collection of Vinyl in the USA

Bill Binkley owns the oldest record store in Florida and has the largest stock of vinyl records in the USA. Abe Livert Records has been in business since 1936, and Binkley has owned the store and sold records for more than thirty years. A Jacksonville native, Binkley also works at the King’s Pawn Shop in St.Augustine, a music store that he also owns and works as a vehicle to sell some of his cheaper merchandise. Still, in that small store there are about 2,400 records, and an even bigger number of single 45 records. He has about 100,000 records in his warehouse in Jacksonville, 40,000 of those in pristine, like-new condition, something that sets his inventory apart from other vintage vinyl record stores. Vinyl specialty magazine Goldmine and the more well known Billboard magazine have written articles about Abe Livert Records.

When asked about when he started to collect vinyls, he said, “I don’t collect records, I sell them.” And he means it, Binkley has clients as far as Japan and the rest of the world. He sells a lot of his records through Ebay as well. He often goes to “shows” in which he exposes his most priced records with other vintage record sellers.

Binkley, a tall, bald man in his late 60s (made even more intimidating by a handgun hanging from his belt), has been surrounded by music his whole life. Binkley started selling records at the age of 17 for his stepfather, Abe Livert, and started to work with the wholesale aspect of the business when he was 18. Now he owns the store and operates it mostly by himself, but in the heyday of the record sales industry he had up to five stores in Jacksonville. An aficionado of vinyl, Binkley’s business never stopped selling vinyl like many stores did once better technology was available. That’s why he has such a large collection of sealed, brand new, vintage records, because the left-overs of all kinds of music since the store opened were kept and are now considered rarities.

A musician as well, Binkley knows his music. He has been a drummer for bands of all genres, from blues, to soul, to funk, and has even played in his nephew’s indie band, he is a true lover of music. He has done studio work in Nashville as well, and even published a music journal named “Nashville Now”. About his time as a music journalist he said, “I would review about 12 concerts a week.” He said, “It was a fun job, but very hectic.” During the time he published the Nashville Now he met all kinds of artists, from Judas Priest, to Barry White, to Muddy Waters, Earth Wind and Fire, and even The Beatles. He has pictures of all the musicians he interviewed in his St.Augustine Pawn Shop. He reminisced about seeing Jimi Hendrix live, “When me and my date got back from the concert to my 1965 Mustang (and that thing is loud), I tried starting the car but it wouldn’t do it. Finally my date came out of the car and screamed why am I turning the car on and off so much. My ears were ringing so much I couldn’t even hear my own Mustang!”

When asked about what are the most prized records he has, he mentions that the records that fetch the most money are the old-school punk records, as well as the original garage rock records by bands like MC5. He also mentioned “Northern Soul” as a distinctive kind of soul music that developed in England that is also highly sought in vinyl. He said the most expensive vinyl usually go for hundreds of dollars. In the King’s Pawn Shop there are two Jimi Hendrix rare vinyls that caught my eye. A rare first and limited edition of “Electric Ladyland”, the one in which the cover has a bunch of exposed young women (worth about 100 dollars), and an extremely rare, Isle of Wight live performance vinyl. When I asked Bill how much was the Isle of Wight album, he said, “That’s not for sale yet.” And told me that he planned on selling that one online for the highest bidder. Oh the goodies that mortals can’t afford.

Abe Livert Records

(904)-396-0408

St.Augustiners Stir Mixed Feelings Towards Pot

The legalization of pot proves to still be a controversial topic anywhere, and St.Augustine, Fla. wasn’t the exception. When St.Augustine locals were asked about how they felt about Gov.Scwarznegger’s petition for lawmakers to study the economic benefits of a hypothetical legalization of the substance, the reactions were passionate but certainly mixed. The people who agreed with Schwarzenneger did mostly because of the economic benefits they saw were feasible, while the naysayers cited mostly moral and logically inclined reasons. Robert Parry, 23, a graphic designer, said he was against any kind of efforts towards marijuana legalization, “I know too many dumb people” he said. When asked about the possible economical benefits he says he doesn’t see them because “legalized marijuana might hurt the tobacco industry.” Dr.Diviney, an army veteran and a Latin American studies professor at Flagler College, declared himself to be adamantly opposed to any pro-drug legislation, and also thought that it wouldn’t do much in the economical aspect of any state, “When these drug addicts can't or won't work and cannot pay for even legalized drugs, who pays? We the average tax payer does. If you balance the cost of legalizing drugs against the cost of keeping them illegal, which really costs more? I do not think we really have any idea.” On the other hand, Steve Monette, 22, a History major at Flagler, thinks it could be a good answer to California’s economic foes, and maybe even the other state’s economic problems. “I think that if legalizing marijuana helps with California’s budget deficit, then why could it not help in other states?” He also said “Everybody knows that a lot of people smoke as well, these are people like you and me who have to go through all this consequences for minor crimes like possession.” Stephanie Bowcutt, 20, an English major at Flagler as well, brought up the fact that within the new 2000’s generation, weed is already a very socially accepted drug. “I think that right now we are not ready for a full on legislation of marijuana, but it’s obvious that for people my age it’s just as accepted as alcohol or tobacco.” Marijuana is something that arguably unites and divides people of all ages and backgrounds. When something that has the potential to change things in such drastic way is brought forth for legislation, it can cause quite a stir in American society (though the younger generation seemingly already isn’t horrified by marijuana), and much like when alcohol was legalized, it will go through a lot of scrutinizing before something like legalization is achieved. Though St.Augustine is full of young surfer and artsy kinds support it, the city’s conservative/Christian roots also contribute to its mixed feelings towards the drug.

News Exercise #2

Chicken Truck Flipped: 30 Chicken dead. Chaos ensued on McFarland Blvd as a chicken truck flipped over on at 6pm on Wednesday. The truck made an illegal left turn and fell on its side, causing an 11 car pile up. The truck carried 300 chickens, 30 of them died and 40 of them are still missing. Sarah Bernell, 63, a retired kindergarten teacher caught in the middle of the accident said, “It was so hot out there I thought we might have fried eggs for dinner”. And “It was the biggest pile-up I’ve ever seen…but the worst part was the scream of the chickens. Those things sure do make a lot of noise, you know?” Clarence DiMotta, DCH Hospital’s spokesperson reported that the truck driver, Jeff Johnson, is in good condition though he suffered minor bruises and a possible broken ankle. His injuries will be compensated by his employer. DiMotta said that there were no serious injuries present in the other people affected by the accident. Carlton Fitzsimmons, the president of the Alabama poultry corporation said in a press conference that the company had a 700 dollar loss, but that all the chickens are insured for 10 dollars each. He also asked that if anyone sees one of the 40 chickens at loss to please give it back.

Story pitch

SLUG:GUATEMALAN LAWYER ASSASINATION-(St.Augustine)- A video made by now defunct Guatemalan lawyer, Rodrigo Rosenberg, has made the headlines in the Guatemalan press today after his brutal killing on Monday. In the video, Rosenberg specifies the reasons for his death and of his clients. The video has caused commotion because in it, Rosenberg points fingers to Guatemala's president Alvaro Colom, his wife, and members of his cabinet as directly responsible for his murder.

Exercise # 1: News Report

Britney Spears was bit by an alligator this morning at Flagler College's campus. A Flagler College security guard found Britney Spears on the ground and bleeding near the college’s male-only Lewis House dorm facility. The security guard, Hector Gonzalez spotted Spears today at 5 a.m. and saw that she had bite marks on her right foot. According to Gonzalez, Britney was histerical, “Oh my God, oh my God, an alligator bit me” she said. Gonzalez barely saw the reptile dissapear into the bushes, but he estimated the animal to be around 9 ft. Gonzalez called 911 at 5:10 a.m. and Spears got treated by an ambulance at 5:30 a.m. She was released soon after with minor foot wounds. Animal Control officers arrived at 6 a.m. looking for the reptile, but they couldn’t find it. Reportedly Spears was at Flagler College visiting a male friend despite the school’s strict co-ed visitation rules. According to St.Augustine Police Chief Bubba O’Conner, She arrived in a limo from an unknown location. Animal Control is still on the hunt for the gargantuan reptile and advises locals to be careful, specially if walking near bushes.

Why Write?

Writing isn't immediate gratification. Writing is hard and can be a quite slow and tedious process, (especially when figuring out what to write) but after I write something that seems worth reading, or something that has helped me understand the world and myself better, I feel a happiness and a sense of accomplishment that nothing else can provide. I can't write anything without thinking thoroughly about what its going to be about, how I'm going to write it stylistically, and what will I learn or accomplish by the end of the text. Of course, there are in my opinion certain texts that are there merely for the joy of reading or writing them, but a text has to stand out not necessarily through originality, but through the value of the idea it shares and how that idea is expressed. I'm sure that there are many talented writers that can write fast and in big quantities with ease, but I'm slow at writing, it takes a considerable effort, and my output is relatively small. The challenge in writing is what stimulates me to write the most perhaps, and in a way when I write or read whether or not the text is mine, I know I have an intimate relationship with what I read or write, because a text isn't complete until somebody has read it.