Unstuck in space and time.

It has become obvious that I’m unstuck. I’m in a perpetual state of leaving and going to all at the same time. Even while I’m sitting here writing this, I’m thinking about where these words could possibly go, and how I have to leave this job and go to another within a matter of hours.

I’m always going and leaving, which leads me to wonder which places am I leaving from and which am I coming back to. In short, there is no place that I go to where I finally “am” and that when I leave it I will eventually come back to it. I’m going off to somewhere else where I will eventually leave and then return to. All of it.

I’m realizing that the idea of coming and going is nearly irrelevant. I simply “am” wherever I am — in one constant and permanent stream of nowness, and it’s infinite, because when I inevitably die and decompose, the matter that formerly made up my skin, teeth, blood, flesh and these days mostly hair, will dissipate through the earth and the atmosphere, only to be recollected somewhere and become something else.

The point becomes to make sure that wherever I am in this moment, that I am making the best of it and not giving too much thought to what I have done or could be doing in the future. It’s irrelevant, because neither of those timescapes exists. It’s only what I’m doing in the moment that has any actual meaning, what I’m doing to build upon and enrich my forever current state of being.

It’s always now. It always has been and it always will be.Ulfheim

It’s infinite. Like an abyss staring into another abyss trying to make sense of it. Or, better yet, mirrors standing face to face. We’re all doing this at all times, simply reflecting other people and everything, which is also reflecting itself. Infinity.

This is significant for creativity. At least it is to me in this moment. Knowing that whatever I do is a reflection of my environment and how I interact with it, and how that “image” is reflected again and again without end. The simple way to say it is that “everything is connected,” which I believe to be true, but I believe that phrase is a misdirected oversimplification.

I believe that in the same way holy texts use the phrase “I am,” that “We are.” And it doesn’t matter what happens tomorrow or in the future or after we die. Because it all will just be whatever it is, so it’s ridiculous for anyone to do anything other than to just “be” and “do,” since that’s all there really is. Outside of that, it’s all just distractions keeping us from being fully present and actually living.

My mind is so caught up in it’s own constructs and endless loops that I fail to “do” more than I actually do. Even 90/10 would be an overly-generous ratio.

But enough of that. I’m approaching the precipice where my continuing to write this could begin to infringe upon “doing” and become more of a now waste. The only way, then, to be there, it to just jump into stream. And instead of letting it carry me along for a ride or, worse yet, sinking or trying to swim the other way, I’m charged with more than simply swimming with the tide: My task (or my life’s purpose) is to create currents of my own.

Now and forever.

Explore.

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What are your essential objects?

Original post is on SoulPancake.

Typewriter, mary maxim, pheasant, olivetti lettera 32, militar surplus, instagram, marceloasherq, soulpancake, pilot better retractable

Mary Maxim Pheasant shawl cardigan, Olivetti Lettera 32, Pilot Better Retractable (fine ballpoint), small military surplus bag — all daily essentials.

I tend to geek out over devices. Not necessarily high-tech gadgets (although those too), but the simple things used for menial, everyday tasks.

This probably comes from my father. He’s a master carpenter, and even aside from a need to have a specific drill or circular saw, his propensity for the particular is evident even in which pencils, staplers and highlighters he uses.

And I won’t begin to try to explain the level of brand loyalty he practices when purchasing clothing and footwear.

For me, it’s not so different. I like to use certain things for certain tasks. Pens are a big deal for me. So are my bookbags. I could have a “nicer” car, but hope to never part with my baby blue 1980 Volvo 240 Wagon.

Let’s not get me started on typewriters, either.

What are some daily-use “tools” that you can’t do without?

  1. Pilot Better ballpoint retractable pen, fine point
  2. My Olivetti Lettera 32, purchased for $20 Argentinian pesos in Buenos Aires
  3. A small, military surplus backpack
  4. My Mary Maxim pheasant shawl cardigan (I will end anyone that tries to come between us)
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New articles, new insights, but more to come {in brief}

At the White Hart.

I’m at the White Hart.

For my second piece in Lynchburg Business magazine, I was assigned to speak with local building juggernaut, English Construction. It’s becoming a trend, it seems, that I’m on the construction beat. My third was about an mammoth renovation going on in what was formerly the most advanced textile research facility in the country.

I’m a couple months in on my adventure of non-traditional employment. I do supplement my workload with shifts at my favorite bar/pizzeria and by doing some page design for newspapers in the region, but I have yet to regret my decision to leave my full-time job this past July.

There is definite struggle, though — it’s what I signed up for. As compared to months (years, even) past, living feels much more full over these past few months. I’m doing more of what I enjoy. I’m more active (read: losing cubicle fat) and spend more time with my kids. And opportunities are opening up like never before.

So I might be tightening my belt from the combined effect of being more active and not being able to afford as much food, but I’m living for myself and my loved ones, and not under the thumb of any employer that maintains the delusion that they have any right to dictate the way I look, speak, dress and think. (C.f., Howard Roark.)

——————

There are some (potentially) big things on the horizon. I should have an update within a few days. If things go as I hope they will, expect this blog to be flooded with content for the next few months as I continue to expand my experiences and explore the life of a working artist.

–@marceloasherQ

The Weeds series finale: Terrible, great and an apt lens through which I ponder my existence

Note: Spoilers lie ahead, if such things concern you …

Weeds – eight long years I’ve been watching this show. Eight. And less than a week ago, the stash finally ran out.

I’ll admit my joke was terrible, but oh so in-line with the absurd/maudlin/corny tone that Jenji Kohan’s series (d)evolved into having.

Jenji (who likely will never read this), I mean you no disrespect. What you created took an level of effort and creative fortitude that I cannot yet fathom, but critics will caw and scratch none-the-less. I don’t consider myself a critic, though. I believe most critics are people who attempt to tear apart creative works as an expression of their jealousy for not being able to create something themselves. Especially literary and music critics. So, no — I’m not a critic, just someone who enjoys watching my own experiences and understandings interact with various forms of content, especially within mediums that I want to use for my own work.

The finale shows life for the characters some 10 to 15 years after the previous episode. Nancy’s young half-Mexican son is now a teenager (and appears to be less of a Mexican than Louis C.K.). I kept waiting for the show to pull back from the odd ghost-of-Christmas-present-esque flashforward, but it was “real.”

Kohan added a few nods to the beginning by including characters we’ve not seen since the first few episodes, accompanied by self-aware jokes that stretched just as far.

When the series started, the general consensus was that it was fresh and unruly — unlike anything we had seen before. But with each new change of scenery, the show jumped so many sharks that it became impossible to tell exactly where Kohan had gone wrong. Andy, the one character who seemed adamant to not become a overly-lit caricature  of of himself, held on a unique and dynamic character throughout most of the series, but at the end started to shed layers of complexity until he too became overwrought and predictable. Nancy, the main character, became the worst example of this downward transformation (a negative arc).

The final episode ballooned with sentimentality. It reduced the series to near-slapstick comedy (half-Mexican son causes his bar mitzvah to implode, but still enjoys the afterparty dressed as Tony Montana).

To Kohan’s credit, not all was low-brow. If you wade through the miasma of a self-aware finale, there are a few gems, my favorite being Andy encouraging a desperate and unseasonably youthful Nancy to seize her freedom and pursue her true identity. I love how she seemed to receive the exhortation as a Sisyphean sentence. He meant it to be a Promethean one. Nothing in the entire series better captured the essence of her character.

*     *     *     *     *

Like I said, I’ve followed the show off-and-on for about eight years. I am not sure what continued to drive this compulsion past the point where I came to hate Weeds (somewhere in the fourth season). It’s probably the same thing that sparks my unwillingness to leave a party before it’s absolutely dead, to not stop halfway through a novel (except Mine All Mine — sorry, Adam … I did enjoy your physical company, however) or to stay up far enough into the night to ensure tomorrow will be a rough one.

I realize this is mostly wasted time, which scares me, as I have only so many hours in me to answer some of the show’s central questions:

  • How am I to exist?
  • Who am I?
  • How am I to earn a living?
  • What societal norms am I to reject?
  • In what should I raise my children?

Maybe it’s those same questions that drive my compulsion to keep seeking, regardless of how “right” or “wrong” the places are that I’m looking.

The trick, then, is to be able to channel this into my creative efforts, and not put on another episode of Workaholics at 1:30 a.m. on a Thursday.

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Farewell, friends

Victory Garden performing at Keep Colony Live

This week marks a major shift in the Lynchburg, Va., creative community. We are losing four individuals who helped shape and evolve the artistic atmosphere here in our city — Chris and Lauren Baker, Myles Katherine and Dave Justice — to Portland, Or.

We’ll try to forgive you, Portland.

To celebrate our departing friends’ time as Lynchburg creatives, The Keep Colony hosted a multi-act concert and artisan fair on Aug. 4. There were performances by Lynchburg bands Poppa Smurf and the Last Unicorn, The Hawk and the Rumor with Victory Garden, Matthew Paul Butler and Thee Vandal Choir, and Rugby (Chris Baker’s band), and also performances by Goodwill Falcon, of Norfolk, Va., and Gull, of Philadelphia, Pa.

After pushing the limits of the local noise ordinance, we shifted the party to favorite watering hole Rivermont Pizza and finished out the night by watching one-man-band Gull play a skull bending set on guitar, vocals and drums.

As of this writing, our friends are traveling west in a caravan of vehicles stuffed with music gear, MacBooks, DSLRs, cats and whatever clothing they had space for. We bid farewell to our friends and look forward to seeing what they accomplish, but always hope for their return — even if only for a visit.

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How I’ve come to quit my real job: A courageous journey or a quarter-life crisis?

Blake Snyder, “Save the Cat!”

“Give your character stakes. Real, primal stakes.” — Blake Snyder, Save the Cat!

————————————————-

At this moment in my life, I am 27 years old. I’ve been married for 6 years, and in January my wife and I will be having our third child (gender TBD). As of this writing (10:02 a.m. ET on Monday, August 13), I’m supposed to be rushing to clock-in and get my headphones on, and otherwise just be ready to sit in the call queue in anticipation of another phone call that could mean a auto insurance sale.

That is no longer the case. I put my two weeks in at my “real” job las week, but they sent me home the following day. A the end of those two weeks, I won’t have health insurance either.

To those of you who know me personally, I know there is likely one of two things running through your head:

  1. You’re an idiot
    -or-
  2. No guts, no glory

I imagine the reality of this situation is somewhat true on both counts. But the time has come.

Don’t misread me — I am thankful for the position I just left. It was a great company that provides a great commodity, but the actual function of my position wasn’t something I could physically bring myself to do for 40 hours per week. At the risk of sounding pretentious, I am of the creative temperament and born during the information and technology boom of the 80s; my head is full of movie and literature quotes. I’m a writer of screenplays, short stories, marketing material and (I hope) a few novels.

Traditional employment does not suit me.

During the last 5 years I have held four “real” jobs. The last two combined barely account for a single year. There’s something that happens when I get in an office setting, particularly in an office setting where I’m not able to practice what I’m good at. In short, I lose my head. The day-to-day experience is similar to being crushed beneath an ever-turning stationary wheel. I’m pulled up around the circumference of the wheel from time to time, but only to be thrown back beneath it to further feel it’s grinding force.

To me, this is not life — working in a such a way that I am in a perpetual state of exhaustion and broken of spirit. I see others in similar situations and I’m pained to see it. To me, life isn’t too far from the art of storytelling. There needs to be, as Blake Snyder says in his book Save the Cat!, “Real, primal stakes,” for a story to have any real significance. The stationary lifestyle of working 40 hours per week in an environment that progresses me neither personally nor professionally is not a life with any risks. It’s the safe life, a boring and otherwise inconsequential existence.

Therefore, I’m embarking on an experiment: Is it possible for me to support my family through alternative employment means, to make money on my own steam and not through an expected base paycheck, regardless of my performance? We shall see. I’ve thrown myself into the shark pool and I’m bleeding profusely.

There will be slight shift in this site during the weeks to come. A new layout perhaps (UPDATE: done!), but also chronicling of my (mis)adventures as someone who has made what many will see as a foolhardy error.

So watch and see the train-wreck or observe as the garden of my words and efforts continues to grow. Either way, something has to happen. And if I fall face-first to the ground, the dirt will taste sweeter than the honey of ordinary success.

Prose & Pizza, Volume I: A recap

A view of Rivermont Avenue in Lynchburg, Va., from on top of the old Virginia School of the Arts.

To help recuperate money spent on throwing a two-day music festival in September 2011, my friends and I organized a literary reading at our local pizzeria and watering hole, Rivermont Pizza. The following is a recap I wrote for practice.

————————————

I’ve been known to do foolhardy things — to get an idea in my head and pursue it to it’s furthest extreme. An example? Right now comes to mind. Many of my efforts outside of my employment hinge upon This Is Lynchburg, and what I’d like to see it become.

Specifically, my friends and I put on the Hill City Roots (a.k.a. Seven Hills Folk Festival) music festival in September, when everyone and everything told us it would not happen. Everything was working against us, even our own haphazard schemes toward organizing it.

It did happen. Albiet, the turnout was not what we’d hoped, but it wasn’t anything surprising. Same weekend as one of the biggest parties downtown Lynchburg throws every year. Same weekend as Randolph College’s alumnae weekend. Same weekend as Land Jam. But it happened. And we learned a lot.

So, it’s nice when things fit together without much in the way of glitches. The Nov. 10 Prose & Pizza, Volume I, reading at Rivermont Pizza has given us a much-needed embrace of afirmation. Kick-ass posters and handbills were designed by Gabriella Muglia and printed by Bright Images. And our readers (Adam Davies, Chris Gaumer and Vic Sizemore) were amazing, which came as no surprise.

The turnout, however, pushed the limits of our expectations.

I arrived on location at 7:20 p.m. that night, coming straight from working on the second installment of the Rivermont Pizza Christmas album. We set up, had a couple of drinks and waited for the crowd to trickle in.

Except “trickle” isn’t quite accurate. The small, graffitied room swelled with 70 people before we had a chance to check our watches.

Vic, one of my closest friends, kicked everything off. It could have been the beer, my over-analytical nature or a combination of several factors, but I perceived a disengaged stillness in the room. I wondered if people were paying attention at first, and remembered that I botched the introduction.

“Who is this white guy with an afro?” they must wonder. “And this reader wearing a Big Lebowski T-shirt — why should I listen?”

Whether my thinking was based on reality or just nerves soon became irrelevant. Lights sparked, pair-by-pair, in the eyes that exchanged glances with familiar eyes.

It was clear: My boy’s got skills.

Vic finished his reading. It was a story that developed and revealed itself in the way that only good stories do; a story that the audience becomes engrossed in and really experiences. John Gardner calls it the “fictive dream.” You forget you’re reading a story or listening to someone read to you, and simply exist in the dialogue and subtle details.

Flannery O’Connor said that a great piece of fiction can’t be described to people who ask you what it’s about. You just have to read it. In the same way, I doubt anyone walking away after Vic finished could have explained to anyone what his story was about. The listener did, however, know what it was about because he or she experienced it — in 1080p HD.

The crowd’s enthusiasm did not wane as the evening progressed. Chris Gaumer (another good friend of mine of more than eight years) adjusted the microphone, took a breath and took off.

I’m sure I had a stupid-ass grin on my face the whole time, but I wasn’t alone. My friend Leah could sit up straight for only so long before her torso lurched forward in laughter.

Was it that good. Yes, it was that good. And it was in Lynchburg.

Eat it, naysayers.

And it’s no easy thing what Chris accomplished — standing in front of friends, students, colleagues and strangers, to lay dozens of hours worth of hard work out in the open. Especially when some of it dealt with the nature of his being beleaguered by ubiquitous bed wetting and therefore unable (mostly) to attend childhood sleepovers.

Novelist and Lynchburg College writer-in-residence Adam Davies did not fail to live up to expectations. He read a few scenes from the highly-praised “Mine All Mine,” with details that would have made everyone uncomfortable if they had not been so amusing.

And, Adam, from the bottom of my heart, thank you for the glass of Jameson — warmed my soul, it did.

And thank you, attendees, for being there. Despite being packed in like bondiola rellena, you all sat through like champs, and we all had a great time.

Humbled and excited for our future events. Stay tuned as This Is Lynchburg takes our readings on the road — we’ll be gracing various restaurants around the city for later readings, and will definitely host more at Rivermont Pizza.

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What does your online portfolio look like?

My writing desk at KEEP CLNY.

Big admission here: My online presence hasn’t been what I would like it to be. A big reason for my lack of activity until the past few weeks is because it took me nearly six years to reconcile my ideals to how important pursuing such a presence actually is in today’s culture — especially as a professional creative.

On the left menu bar, you will see that a “Portfolio” link has appeared. I plan to use this space to document when and where I publish my writing, along with links to other projects I have a part in.

I would love to hear from you, dear blog reader, about what has worked for you in the past when building a writing portfolio.

@marceloasherQ

Once upon a time, I interviewed (The) Facebook cofounder Chris Hugues

The boy wonder himself.

When I started pursuing writing back in 2005, I knew almost nothing about journalism, and what was then called The Facebook was brand new (and available exclusively) to college students. We had no idea how the social media platform would come to define our generation.

I thought it was pretty cool and I wanted to write about it for my practicum writing for Liberty University’s student newspaper, the Liberty Champion, so I sent an email to The Facebook, which eventuated in some back-and-forth with cofounder Chris Hughes. I’m still trying to locate the PDF of that issue of the paper (it seems I’ve found every single one I either appeared in or designed except this one), but want to share with you what I wrote then, despite how it reveals how much of a novice I was.

Below is the unedited draft of what was published in the 2005 fall semester.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Get Poked

by,
Marcelo A. Quarantotto Jr.
LIFE! Reporter
Liberty Champion

As of April 2005, LibertyUniversity has been overtaken by one word: Facebook.  The Facebook is an internet-based networking phenomenon that has become somewhat of a craze among Liberty’s student body, as well as being utilized by various faculty members.

Back in winter of 2004, the gears in the head of Harvard Student Mark Zuckerberg began to turn as ideas formulated to what The Facebook is today.  Zuckerberg, the founder, eventually joined forces with Dustin Moskovitz, officially known as “Destroyer;” Andrew McCollum, called “Lockbox;” and “Pressguy,” Chris Hughes.

Hughes states in an email that the original vision “was a pretty simple concept: to create a universal online database for college students with social-networking functionality.”  He explains how Zuckerberg wanted to create an alternative to the standard college yearbook that often leaves students disappointed and/or embarrassed, and instead give students something that they can customize to their own personal predilection.

During The Facebook’s initial release on Wednesday, February 4th, 2004, “it was a project by and for Harvard students,” claims Chris Hughes, “but because over 6,000 Harvard kids signed up within the first three weeks, it seemed ridiculous not to open it up to a few other schools.”

As it stands today, The Facebook has about 832 colleges and universities registered, which includes about 3.6 million students, teachers, alumni and the like.  On the website’s “About” page, it describes it as “an online directory that connects people through social networks at colleges.”

What is the future for The Facebook?  Chris Hughes claims within the next few months there will be right of use for every college and university in the nation, and that the staff of The Facebook will continue to add “new functionalities and features…improving our users’ overall experience on the site.

The Facebook gives its users the capability to search people in their schools by name, gender, graduating year, interests and many other classifications.  There is a multitude of other functions offered such as looking into how certain people are connected to each other and seeing who is enrolled in the same classes.

Junior Christopher Bowman, a Broadcast Video major, expresses his satisfaction with The Facebook.  Although he doesn’t spend as much time on the site as he did when he first registered, he still says, “The Facebook is great for keeping in touch with friends over the summer break.”

Another Liberty student, Pastoral Ministries major Jason Drinnen, uses his account for more than just keeping touch with friends. “The Facebook is a bridge for ministry,” he states, “It is good in evangelism for reaching our peers for Christ.”

One comical and good-natured activity found on The Facebook is poking.  Poking is a feature added to the website that has no real purpose other than sheer amusement.  One student can “poke” another by pressing the link that says “Poke Him!” or, “Poke Her!” under another student’s profile picture.  The other user will receive a message later with a picture of a finger that says “You have been Poked,” and will be given the option to “poke back.”

“It’s kinda cool when you get poked and you see the picture of the finger,” says Senior Tim Hawks who is double-majoring in Business and Psychology.  “It’s a fun way of interacting with your friends when you don’t see them much….especially when you get in a poking war.”

The Facebook will also give users reminders of when another person’s birthday is.  Isabel SoriaGalvarro, a Sophomore Family and Child Development major, told The Champion that mass amounts of people were giving here birthday congratulations, even people that she didn’t know!

The capability to find people with common interests is a very prominent theme of The Facebook.  For each college, there is the ability to create groups of any kind, and students can join most groups of their choosing.  Communications Faculty member Mr. James Pickering is one of LibertyUniversity’s teachers that frequently uses The Facebook.  Mr. Pickering confirms the usefulness of it when he says that it “allows students to communicate who have like interests.”

While Mr. Pickering, and other faculty members, enjoys The Facebook as a worthwhile tool for communication, he shares some concerns for misuse.  “Let’s not promote or be proud of the negative parts of our university.”  Apparently, there are some groups of questionable ethical content.

So, as a message to the incoming freshman, log-on to http://www.TheFacebook.com, get connected, start poking and mind your manners.

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Function Is Beauty

Photo and construction by Kyle Murphy. http://www.falingacorn.com

I first met Kyle Murphy not long before I moved to Buenos Aires. He was a recent transplant to Lynchburg, Va., from Raleigh, N.C. Another editor at my college paper had grown up with his wife, Carolyn, in Maine. I guess Carolyn came to Lynchburg on occasion to visit, but they were essentially moving to Lynchburg without knowing a soul.

When I finally moved back to Lynchburg, nearly three years later, I’d run into Kyle and Carolyn on occasion. We’d share anecdotes about our kids or news about a mutual friend.

Last month, I had the opportunity to sit down with Kyle for a freelance article I was to writing for Lynchburg Business Magazine. My preparation for such encounters includes as little preparation as possible. I may have a list of questions to ask, but it isn’t often that I find it appropriate to ask all if even half of them. My preference is conversation to interview; the responses I get from the few questions I do ask end up being much more meaningful in these situations.

I approached our encounter not without a hint of butterflies. Kyle and I have known each other for nearly five years, but this was the first actual conversation we would had. The interview opened with my telling him that I would be asking a bunch of questions that might seem redundant or obvious, but for the sake of the interview I was going to pretend that I knew nothing about him. I didn’t really have to pretend though. At most social gathering’s, we’d tip-toe around one another without a goddamn thing to say. A lot of whatsups and nodding.

Our interview stretched on for three hours, challenging the batteries in my digital voice recorder. Friends dropped in throughout the conversation, and my playing back the recording revealed more than a few instances where I asked myself: “Why the hell did you say that.”

That’s to be expected.

Kyle went into great detail about his passion for timber framing, a minimalistic style of carpentry where the builder uses large beams and few tools (almost no power tools). And with everything that was said, there was one mantra that rang out: Do things well so others will do things well too. It sounds almost biblical, and it speaks volumes of what should be at the forefront of the mind during the artistic process. The ultimate goal of the artist, then, should not be one of glory or riches — the goal of the artist should simply be to create the best art he or she can possibly can, that way others are prompted to do the same. Spending time in Brooklyn last week made me think of this concept again. I was surrounded by millions of people, and for any one of them there is probably another 10,000 trying to achieve the exact same thing. The perpetual result is a massive ball of flesh, stone, glass and steel that’s in a constant wrestling match to produce better and better things.

But I digress.

The folks at Prototype Advertising were kind enough to publish the resulting article in the July issue of Lynchburg Business Magazine, and even gave me another assignment for another construction company. Is there such a thing as a “construction beat” in journalism?

The article in its entirety can be read here.

View Kyle’s work at www.fallingacorn.com (slated for a rebuild in the near future).

Pergola Kyle built at The White Hart Café in Lynchburg, Va. Kyle also took the photo.

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