Tuesday, September 27, 2016

I'm France

I am France.



One of these days I will share my writing with you all.



Today is not that day.



- France

Friday, September 2, 2016

A Post About Nothing


Hello everyone and welcome to another edition of Me Talking. When I arrived home from school a feeling of melancholy washed over me for some reason. I’ve been feeling like this every Friday evening for as long as I can remember. I don’t really know how to describe the feeling. I get home, I take off my shoes and set my book bag to the floor. If I’m not working I go upstairs to put on some comfortable clothes, and if I do work I go upstairs to put on my work clothes. If I find myself not going to work, I put on my leisure clothes and make my slow way down the stairs. When I come down I am usually greeted by my parents and about 50 questions about my day or what I did the day before. Beyond the typical words of encouragement that I can do it “if I tried harder” speech is the slow descent into the harsh reflection of my week. I begin to question and overthink every achievement and defeat. Did I really do everything I wanted to do this week? Was that feeling of praise and power and self-fulfillment really warranted with my “achievements” of the week? I look over to the dinner table. It’s set for a candlelight dinner, like many Fridays as the weather begins to get colder, and the leaves begin to fall from the trees. I would message my girlfriend, but she’s at her cross country practice so she won’t answer. I don’t want to overwhelm her with my petty overthinking, so I’ll message her later when she gets out. My mother calls me from the kitchen asking me what I’m doing, and I answer “nothing”. Nothing. That’s a typical response I give when I know she’s going to tell me to help her. She begins to tell me in a raised voice to come help her with the dinner. I begin to wonder whether or not I was actually doing nothing just then. Nothing, like many things in life, is all perspective. The smallest thing can mean the world and more to someone, while the world and more can mean the smallest thing to others. She’s yelling now. The smell of roast chicken and garlic fill the air, and I know dinner is ready to be served. It’s ready to be served, and I will help serve it. I get up now and go into the kitchen. My mother is putting chicken, potatoes, and a salad on a porcelain plate in even proportions. I look at the plates as I set them at each of our seats, and I realize I’m pretty hungry. When we talk at the dinner table, we will disagree on the topic at hand, no matter what it may be. That’s just what happens when you live with six other people. This feeling is isn’t losable. Rather, I just learn to live with it. It has to pass at some point, and it does, but only for a moment.
P.E.N.T.C.I.



*Sorry for the lack of content once again, I'm still getting back into the swing of things. But don't follow your dreams, follow me instead



Thursday, September 1, 2016

NEW AUTUMN


NEW AUTUMN

By: Rodolfo Perez

 

 

 

I just need to clear my mind now,

It’s been racing since the summer time.

I’ve been holding a cup for too long,

A once cold beverage is body temperature.

The music has stopped playing,

The summer is over.

The summer is over.

The summer has been over.

It’s on to the late nights without the party.

The quick meals without the conversation.

But there is someone who keeps me going.

She remains to celebrate the victories,

And comfort me in my defeats.

Suddenly autumn becomes my favorite season.


                                                                      P.E.N.T.C.I.

Monday, August 29, 2016

A Thought In Requiem


A Thought in Requiem


By: Rodolfo Perez



Self-destruction was no longer a choice, but an obligation.

It was an unspoken responsibility. It brought salvation.

Too many times I have sat and watched.

Sat and suffered.

I sat as the faces around me became rougher.

I could no longer recognize them.

These people I once thought I found comfort with.

But that thought is in requiem.

The days we spent indulging in the short but boundless luxuries,

It all disgusted me.

Often, I like to look back, and wonder.

I wonder if they remember who I was.

I wonder if they wonder why I don’t carry a face like theirs.

I wonder if they wonder if I wonder who I am now,

But they won’t know.

For I’m gone now.

The thought of me is in requiem as well,

As my thoughts of them are.





                                                            P.E.N.T.C.I.

Sunday, July 31, 2016

BACK FROM THE DEAD


Hello everyone and welcome to another long awaited edition of Me Talking. To clear the air, yes I am still writing for this project, I’ve just been involved in quite a few issues that have rendered me unable to post. I would like to take the time to apologize for the hiatus of sorts as I realize my last post was well over a month ago. In terms of my personal life, I would be a liar if I were to say my summer hasn’t been eventful. There is much to write, and I intend to share some of those experiences with you as time goes on. When on the topic of this blog, I am very excited to announce that there are several projects in the works as we near our second year anniversary of this blog. One of the leading projects I am working very hard in getting ahold of the artists and works for a showcase I am working very closely in putting together with the Me Talking set. I am hoping to get this project as well as a couple more out before the end of August. I cannot express how thankful I am for the continued support I have been getting despite my unfortunate lack of content. I am proud to consider myself and this blog an outlet for new and creative endeavors. I like the idea of having an outlet not only to share my creations, but to give the opportunity to all who read to showcase their work as well. If you have been a longtime reader of this blog you know I am not one to look to far into the future, for that looking too far can very often only lead to disappointment, but I have to say I’m looking ahead to the rest of this year with great confidence, and I truly mean that.

Rodolfo Perez
Head Editor of Me Talking

P.E.N.T.C.I.

Thursday, May 19, 2016

Afternoon in Alicante


“Afternoon in Alicante”

By: Rodolfo Perez

 

 

The dying breath of winter goes down into a harsh whisper.

I look over the cracked rooftops of the Spanish homes,

Damaged over the years, but still attractive, and fine-looking

As many people in life are.

The sun is over my head, as many aspects of life once were.

I once yearned to discover something new every waking moment,

But

Now I desire to forget some things.

I long to forget the dreadful endings to otherwise astounding moments

In the life of a man like me.

There is a hoary vase that’s filled with new lavender hydrangeas and daisies that blossomed

Just a few days ago.

Life is very much like the vase that sits there.

We age and darken like the vase,

But the flowers that are our thoughts are forever changing,

And persistently beautiful.


P.E.N.T.C.I.

Sunday, May 8, 2016

Mothers


            From all of us to all mothers of the world, thank you for the support you have for your kids. It doesn’t matter if a child is biologically yours or not, caring for something with compassion and understanding and learning to raise it to be in the real world is worth appreciating, and is what being a mother is all about. So thank you again for everything you do.

 

With much gratitude,

 

Me Talking Staff

P.E.N.T.C.I.

Friday, April 22, 2016

Play On!: A Review




“Play On!” A review

By: Rodolfo Perez

 

 

Rating: 3/4

 

When making the attempt to appreciate the high art of theatre, the average drama enthusiast looks for enjoyment through structure, plot, and technique, and goes to be fooled into thinking what they are witnessing on that stage is reality. You know you have found a real work of art when you are unable to distinguish the proper formation of the lines the actor has been practicing to say, and the informal actions of a young thespian experimenting with different styles and methods of acting. In my little experience in the world of drama, I have seen few productions I could call real works of art. I found “Play On!” to be a gem as far as high school theatre goes. After attending the first two performances, I was able to see the creativity both the directors and actors exhibited as the play progressed. A man once told me that a sign of a promising actor is when he or she is able to recognize something has gone wrong, and is able to adapt and build off those mistakes. Upon arriving opening night, I was taken aback by the set. To be blunt, I found the set design to be artfully satisfying! I found the contrast between the hard metal chairs in the early parts of the play and the Victorian style couch and armchairs to be a stroke of brilliance as it added to the time frame of the production and made the audience feel as if they were experiencing the preparatory stages of an amateur play. As far as the actual play went, I was extremely impressed. Powerful performances from Billy (played by the captivating Jared Ellis), Saul (played by Alex Kulak), frustrated director Gerry (played by the amazing Zariya Butler) and the eccentric playwright Phyllis (played by the remarkable Angelica Jarrett) had me and the audience laughing time and time again throughout the evening. Along with them was a superb cast called by directors Joseph Hoyt and Abigail Augustine. As an art enthusiast, it does the theater justice to have such a talented group of actors come on stage and truly create a reality to which the audience can bear witness to the frustration and insecurities that exist in modern theatre. “Play On!” captures the creative process by inserting constant changes in the script and gives insight into the harsh reality that is performance. In terms of negatives I found consistently was the overall tone of the play. I found certain points in the dialogue to be a bit flat, and felt many jokes were not emphasized to the point where the audience could catch them when they were first said. Besides that, I found from the moment the curtain opened, to the thundering conclusion, you are taken on a journey that will leave you laughing in some parts, irritated in others, and sympathetic to the struggles many in the preforming realm have to deal with. That’s what a great production will do to the drama-lover, it will reach into their emotions and bring out the best (and the worst) in everyone who takes the time to appreciate it. A job well done to the cast and crew of the play, and all I can say is: PLAY ON!



Wednesday, April 6, 2016

Roses In aPril







Untitled

By: Rodolfo Perez

 

the SHower washes over mE

coming with the WArm water is a new wave of optimiSm.

who knEw someone could eVEr feel this much waRmth and joY?

i look down To my cupped Hands, and let the water slIp through my fiNGers.

for a moment, I’m at peace with the floral arrangeMent thAt sits on the sink.

the flowers that now sit Dewed over by the hot stEam.

roses, wHite and rEd, become foggy thRough the glass as My shOwer moVEs along.

my prAda suit stays hung Where i left it

i wAsh the rest of the shampoo from mY hair

it’s herbal scent gives the illusion that i’m clean,

but I’m Dirty frOm the Never-ending pageant That is my life.

spearmint, shikakai, parFum, nEEm, aLma.

vous Ne comprenez pas

I turn off the shower.

i don’t want to

but i’m too ComfortablE.

so i do anyways

i step out of the shower, out of the wave, and slip back into reality,

and into my suit.

 

 
 

 
                                                P.E.N.T.C.I.                                   



Monday, March 28, 2016

Afternoon Musings in a Coffee Shop




Afternoon Musings in a Coffee Shop

By: Rodolfo Perez

 

This is for Brian Kwok, we care buddy.

 

There are things that are better left unsaid in the coffee shop. Live to be pure, but to yourself, not to everyone else. Believe in the idea that what is believed is in perception of what is never found. What does it mean to never be found? Is the man who seeks privacy through action and pure heartache a lonely man? Or has he fulfilled his purpose in life? How surreal coffee shops are. You walk in, and there, sitting at a table or stool or wooden wicker chairs, you will find people. These people sit, some writing, some reading, and some talking to their mothers, others their partners. They sit in close proximity to each other, yet they have, and most likely want, little to do with each other. They are in their own worlds, away from the brash sounds of the coffee making machine or the coffee maker. The people sit, working, stopping for the occasional sip of their drink or a quick bite of their muffin. These people may be working on the next great poem, or song, or screenplay, yet we ignore them. We assume their creative endeavors, and take them for being beings of lost power. A power many of the people I see sitting once had. Some may have a power to grab the attention through their art, or shift that attention away from themselves or the sake of solitude, but even then, how long will that last? When will these people wake up one fine morning, to find that they can’t capture the minds and imaginations of anyone but themselves? When will they walk into a coffee shop like this expecting that power to come back to them, only to find that it’s a new day, and there’s something new to look at. The person sits and waits for the inspiration to come back. The person sits for some time, but the one thing they feared has become a reality. The person sits, reflecting on what there is left to do in a place like this. They pay for what the place was made for, and they sit for a while longer, then they leave.

 

                                                            P.E.N.T.C.I.





Tuesday, March 1, 2016

MANDATORY UPDATE


What’s up guys! It’s me, Rodolfo Perez, and welcome to an edition of Me Talking. It’s been a while since I’ve done an update post, so here I am! For the most part, school has been going quite well. I hope those of you who are going to school right now are hanging in there. I know students hear this all the time, but education really is everything. To me, there’s nothing worse than being uneducated in a world where it’s so easy to go to school and learn something. So keep studying, which you probably should be doing instead of reading this. On another note, I will be attending Comic-con for the second time. The event will be held in Schaumburg Township District Library, 130 S. Roselle Rd., Schaumburg, Illinois. I’m going to be there from 1 to 4. More info can be found here. I’m going to be meeting with some local artists there, enjoy some of the local festivities, and have a great time. If any of you are going, be sure to stop by and say hi, who knows, I might say hi back (I’m joking, of course I’ll say hi). It should be some great fun as we move towards the spring season. With all that being said, I guess that’s pretty much it. I can’t tell you guys how amazed I am at the continued support towards this blog. I really am thankful for each and every one of you. With that all out of the way, I hope you guys enjoyed the short update, don’t forget to e-mail me, tweet me, or comment below if you have a question or something to say. Thanks a lot guys and I will see you all later.

 

                                                                 P.E.N.T.C.I.

Monday, February 29, 2016

An Open Letter to Internal Machinations


An Open Letter to Internal Machinations

By: Rodolfo Perez

 

 

 

I’m tired.

I’m 17 and I’m tired.

I’m 17, I have a family, and I’m tired.

I’m respected.

People come and ask ME for answers.

But I’m tired.

I’m fairly sure of what I have to do to be “happy”

But I’m tired,

And I’m tired.

I’m loved, and hated,

And I’m tired.

I’m tired of waking up,

And acting like I don’t need to get out of bed.

I’m tired of acting like I’m tired when I’m not.

I’m tired of not speaking enough.

I’m tired of listening too little.

I’m tired of seasons.

I’m tired of time.

I’m tired.

I’m tired of bitching like I am right now.

So, I’ll stop

Because that’s what you do when you’re tired of something right?

You stop doing that something.

 

 

THIS WORK IS NOT AFFILAITED WITH P.E.N.T.C.I. IN ANY WAY

Sunday, February 21, 2016

The Life and Death Of The Party


The Life and Death of the Party

By: Rodolfo Perez

 

I’m the party,

And I know I should feel happy.

Many people would kill to be in such a seat like this,

An old oak dinner chair serves as an unofficial throne.

And it gives me a perfect view of the spectacle.

People are all around me, and even though I invited most of them,

I don’t know their names,

I can’t recognize their faces,

I used to.

I used to be able to pick out every imperfection in them,

The way their smiles would bounce off the walls,

The way their dance movements would be slightly off-beat

And that made them perfect,

But their faces are now mere shadows overlaid by the pounding beam light.

Its straight, white, bright flashes keep coming back to my home,

To my memory,

Very much like the people who are moving to the dancing lights.

I used to find substance in these events.

The loud music,

The louder people.

But now I feel empty.

My home is filled with people, and music,

But I feel more alone than ever.

 

                                                                 

 

       P.E.N.T.C.I.

Friday, February 19, 2016

Film Announcement



My dearest readers,


            Due to legal issues as well as technical concerns with footage, I have decided, that for the best interests of P.E.N.T.C.I.’s responsibility as a creative group to produce good, quality art and work, that PEREZ: THE FILM will postponed due to editing issues. After finishing the film in mid-November I had a plan to have a screening at The Illinois International Film Festival in Springfield during the year. Unfortunately, upon submitting my ideas and credits to the reviewers, they said I lacked proper musical copyright permission in order to submit the film in. I then took to the drawing board once again in order to find music that best suited the content of this mockumentary. I then replaced most of the soundtrack in the film. After watching it again though, it just didn’t feel like it used to. The feeling and expression I was trying to convey just wasn’t the same. I tried to rerecord scenes, but had difficulty doing that while trying to keep up with school, the blog, and my family. So, the bottom line is, I have work to do because the film isn’t where I want it to be. I want to create the art I have in my mind, and I feel PEREZ: THE FILM isn’t at that point yet. I want to apologize for yet another postponement, but I know every last one of you can understand the circumstances. I want to apologize to Brian Kwok especially for changing up the project once again. If you have any questions regarding the film process, please e-mail me at


iamjob9918@gmail.com


I owe it to every last one of you to answer any questions you have regarding the film, and other P.E.N.T.C.I. projects. Once again, I’m not giving up on this film, and I can promise that I will do everything in my power as a creator to make this idea a reality.


Thanks again,


Rodolfo Perez
P.E.N.T.C.I.

Monday, February 15, 2016

The Fears of Two Men


THE FEARS OF TWO MEN

By: Rodolfo Perez

 

 

Two men sit across from each other in an empty café, there are two cups of coffee between them, and one of them is on the phone. As the first one finishes his conversation on the phone, the other takes periodic sips from his cup.

Man 1: Yeah, I love you too mama. Yes, I’ll tell him, okay, I love you too, okay mama, bye now. Yes, bye.

Man 1 hangs up phone

Man 1: Mothers, can’t live with them. Could never live without them.

Man 2: (chuckles) I guess so.

 

A short silence breaks before them

 

Man 2: Why are we doing this?

Man 1: What?

Man 2: This. Talking. Here. In this shitty little coffee shop, about our stupid little problems that will go away with a night’s slumber.

Man 1: Well that’s not true.

Man 2: What? Our stupid little problems?

Man 1: No, about them all going away with a night’s slumber. They never go away, they just kind of…take a coffee break.

Man 2: They have to go away sometime.

Man 1: No, see that’s the thing. Problems aren’t a thing with thoughts and emotions. They don’t give a shit about you, your ambitions, your goals or even your goddamn financial life. They’re just there, because they just are, and they’re never going to go away.

Man 2: ….

Man 1: No need to get depressed over this, I mean, the reality has always been there you-

Man 2: No, it’s not that it’s just, I had this exam today for BioChem. I must’ve forgotten.

Man 1: Can you make it up?

Man 2: Probably not.

Man 1: Well, then what are you going to do?

Man 2: I don’t know. I guess, talk to my professor and hope for the best.

Man 1: Hope for the best?

Man 2: Yeah, you know hope (Takes sip of coffee) it’s this thing where you believe in something so much in the idea that that belief may turn out to be reality.

Man 1: Well that’s one way to put it.

Man 2: How would you put it then?

Man 1: I don’t know I don’t really believe in it.

Man 2: How can you not believe in hope?

Man 1: I don’t know, I just don’t.

Man 2: Well, in all due respect that’s kind of stupid.

 

Waitress comes in and puts two French bagels between them

 

Man 2: Excuse me, we didn’t order these.

Waitress: Well, they’re on your table, so they’re yours.

 

Waitress walks away

 

Man 1: What the hell was that?

Man 2: I don’t know, do you know her?

Man 1: No.

 

Man 2 reaches for one

 

Man 1: No, don’t eat those! Let’s get out of here.

Man 2: Why are you so scared to eat?

Man 1: They can be rotten or poisoned or something.

Man 2: But they can also be the best bagels you’ve ever had.

Man 1: Fine (Takes bagel) here’s to failure.

Man 2: Here’s to death.

They touch bagels and take a bite.

 

 



END

 

                                                P.E.N.T.C.I.

Sunday, February 14, 2016

FEBRUARY



ONE-TIME ONLY (BLIND IGNORANCE)


 


By: Rodolfo Perez





The cold air of February chokes me up,


As her voice once did.


The scenery was beautiful to observe, with a new feature coming out each time you looked,


So was she.


She was the reason the birds sang,


But even birds have to stop singing one day.


Her lips, once full with life,


Appear pale, and dead


To me.


I wanted something true,


But I never knew what truth was.


She was here in the beginning,


As she is here at the end,


And although she sits right across from me,


I can barely see her.


We will leave soon.


Shake hands perhaps,


As if this whole ordeal was a mistake.


-


“So what do you think?”


“Hello, anyone in there?”


“Oh, so this is what you’re going to do huh?”


-


She’s getting up now, ready to say goodbye for the last time.


But we’ll meet again,


For there are more February airs to come,


Ready to choke me once more.


And we both know that birds cannot stay quiet forever.


 


                       P.E.N.T.C.I.

Wednesday, February 3, 2016

Modernism in Black



 

“Modernism in Black”

By: Rodolfo Perez

 

There are bigger problems in life that cannot be fixed by laughter,

Or a bottle.

There are bigger problems,

Than what may become of the

Bubbling cauldron that is fear.

Yes, there are bigger problems,

For some.

I have little to do,

I travel great distances,

Yet where are these problems I hear of?

Am I shielded from the atrocities of a modern life?

Or am I blind to raging waterfall of facts that wash over me?

What am I?

Why am I here?

Why am I alive?

Why do you care?




Sunday, January 31, 2016

JANUARY

This was a submission by Andy Gabl. I felt it was appropriate for the month.




                                                                      P.E.N.T.C.I.





Wednesday, January 6, 2016

"The Hateful Eight" Review


                                “The Hateful Eight”: Left Clapping For The Wrong Reasons

 

       By: Rodolfo Perez

 

Quentin Tarantino is known as one of the elite filmmakers of a generation that yearns for non-stop action along with the occasional post-modern homage that is missing in most directors of the digital age. With that being said about Mr. Tarantino, “The Hateful Eight” shows that, although not Tarantino’s greatest work, is still an experimental variation on the classic “who done it” scenario where not even the “Good Guys” have their hands clean. The story centers around Major Marquis Warren (Played by the, although elderly, powerful Samuel L. Jackson) and John Ruth (Played by the
charismatic Kurt Russel) as they make their way to Red Rock to claim a few bounties, totaling $18,000. As you may have guessed, this creates a bit of a conflict between Ruth and the Major, as they both, although acquainted with each other, are distrusting. As they make their way to the small town, they pick up the ignorant, yet humorous Sheriff of Red Rock Chris Mannix (played by Walton Goggins). Together this band of men, brought together by a fierce snow-storm, find a small bed and breakfast where the “protagonists” are met by a group of suspicious men who are staying at the little B&B. There's a sneaky and rather cryptic Mexican (Demian Bichir) who calls himself Bob, a former Confederate general (Bruce Dern), a smug and effete British hangman (Tim Roth), and a smirking gunman named Joe Gage (Played by the charming Michael Madsen). Together, this odd bunch are forced to spend at least a three days inside the inn with one of the bounties that is worth 10,000 dollars. As they settle in though, things are not what they appear to be, Kurt Russel and his companions begin to suspect that one, if not all the men in the inn are to kill and take the bounty for themselves. There is a strong buildup, followed by an explanation that relaxes the viewer, then hits you with a climax filled with plot twists that make for a very enjoyable, yet surreal experience. Now, the N-word is sprinkled throughout (Which shouldn’t come as a surprise to Tarantino fans, but is something to note if sensitive to the word) as Tarantino did set the plot in the years following the civil war; but its use in "The Hateful Eight" is more problematic than in "Django Unchained" where the term had a whiplash sting; even if you suspected Tarantino of trying to get away with something, the film's righteous ire (presenting the old South as a brainwashing, ignorant little Nazi Germany right here in the good old USA) made you pause before writing him off as an opportunist. That's not the case here. The in-depth conversations about the Civil War  and what defined justice vs. frontier justice are superficially interesting, until you suspect they're not there to tie the film's characters to the image  American, but to set the stage for killings. The context of a nasty, brutish time gives the artist permission to be nasty and brutish. When the violence arrives in "Hateful Eight," it's unmoored not just from any morality espoused by the characters (who are hateful, after all!) but also, it seems, from Tarantino's own moral compass—if indeed he has one, and after this movie I have serious doubts. In "The Hateful Eight" for the first time in Tarantino's career there's no detectable moral framework to speak of. It adds a shade of nihilism that is present from the moment we meet Russel from his stage coach. Now, keep in mind, this film is rated R due to its excessive violence, language, and explicit material, so viewer beware. Overall, “The Hateful Eight” proves that Tarantino is like many people who reach a point in their life where they seek more, and make an effort to find try new things. This film is experimental, fresh, and will find its place among one of Tarantino’s less acclaimed films.

 

Rate: 7.5/10