Dear readers:Welcome to the third issue! I think Erin and I have found the per-fect style and direction for this magazine. We’ve added a fash-ion section as well as music/movies and an anonymous journal entry feature! I believe we are growing in all the right ways. Not only are we showcasing the work of truly talented indiviuals, but I believe this magazine has a little something for everyone. If you’re not particularly keen on photography, we’ve got short stories. Not into fashion trends? We’ve got music and movie re-views. Like to vent? Submit your thoughts anonymously! We’ve also got the overall look and feel of DLT pretty much down. I’m glad we’re growing and I hope you grow with us! Enjoy the is-sue, and remember you can submit photography, writing, art, journal entries, and more to MeganAlacuhzam@gmail.com or

to the Flickr group! Keep creating,

-Megan Dillard

I forget exactly why I began to take photographs, but I was about 16. My design and tech teacher at school bought me a large can of Illford HP5 and taught me how to use a bulk loader with reusable film cartridges. I would develop film and print pic-tures in a small darkroom we had in the DT department. After that he left me to it. Most of the early days were trial and error, getting the chemicals mixed correctly, the temperatures right. There were a few good results, but more out of luck than expertise.

Once I left home for university, photography sort of took a back-seat. There was very little time and, without my darkroom, very little inspiration too. I probably went 10 years without taking a single shot.Slowly I got back into taking pic-tures about 13 years ago using old Olympus bodies and Zuiko lens-es. But by now lugging all the kit around felt like work, as I had begun a career as a TV news cameraman with Reuters/Sky News in the U.K.So more often than not, when I had

the time to take stills, I would not be bothered. Looking through a view-finder was what I did at work, when I had time off, I wanted to be free of it.This all changed a few years ago when i finally went digital..... And the old dark room that I loved so much became a MacBook Pro; easier, more convenient, and my fingers would not smell of developer. Some of my tradi-tionalist film loving friends will hate me for saying it, but digital really re-invigorated my love of photography. I had moved to Bangkok, and was sur-rounded by interesting photo opportu-nities. And now as I was working free-lance, I also had the time to explore,

and work on my still photography. When I began to take pictures years ago, I never shot people. The think-ing being, that I saw people every-day, why take pictures of them? But now that theory has done a complete reversal. I will really only shoot people now. Capturing real emo-tions and feelings has become my inspiration. For that reason I hate posed pictures. As soon as someone knows you are taking their photo-graph they will change. The mus-cles in their face will change, their posture, the thoughts in their head. and the reality of the moment is lost.I rarely engage with my subjects.

Jopalindrome: (a sort of stage name) a 1920s fashion photog-rapher stuck in the body of a freckled, bespeckled Southern Californian sixteen-year-old. From deerlings to honey bees my favorite sources of inspi-ration include: lost boys, bal-lerinas, pocahontas braids with ribbon and roses, fish scale colored fingernails, models who have large Lil-lian Gish-inspired locks and bee-stung lips with spacey

teeth... the list goes on and on and I hope to chronicle it all through my photos. I soak nearly all of my photos in grapefruit juice or tea. I’ve been known to burn my photo-graphs, throw my film into the ocean (later to be recovered, of course) and write lemon-juice love letters and secret messages across the nega-tives like an 18th century spy.

“Flaws are fantastic but usu-ally shunned in Hollywood.

As a documentary film maker I hope to change these per-ceptions through films about people who are beautiful inside

and out.”

Fernando Gomez is a 23 year old pho-tographer who resides in Seville, Spain.

“I’m a self-taught photographer who has been work-ing around a year with professional models and I’m always trying to grow my portfolio in multiple di-rections as possible. My work is focused on fash-ion and portrait basically. I’m attracted by the beau-ty that surround us and I try to portray that into my photos, whether is into a studio or in a natural loca-tion, my photos always have a natural feeling attached to them that makes you feel closer to the model.”

Zack Snyder’s latest slow-motion, highly-stylized, Comic-Conish fantasy, is aimed squarely at the pleasure center of the brain. The plot, in which Baby Doll is admitted into a sinister mental asylum and conspires with some of the other girls there to break out, is largely non-sense, built around the premise that the girls are able to steal the items they need because Baby Doll is such an alluring and “raw” dancer that nobody can take their eyes off of her. But Snyder’s not interested in telling a story here; instead, he wants to wow you with the im-ages that must have been floating around in his head since he was thirteen years old. And what images they are: a fantastic WWI skyline were biplanes dogfight with blimps while steam-powered zombie Germans lead the ground charge against a mechanical suit with a giant bunny face emblazoned across the front; an otherworldly railway through space car-rying a bomb guarded by robot sentries; giant demon samurai in a wintery imperial Japa-nese temple; a dragon that fights an airplane while the girls fight orcs in a volcanic castle. Even the film’s reality setting, Vermont, looks like a hybrid of Transylvannia and Nebraska.Unfortunately, these awesome and thrilling fantasy scenes are ruined by the film’s re-ality-based plot, which is loaded with bad acting, one-dimensional characters, wood-en dialogue and a rather stunning amount of misogyny. Snyder promised a girl-pow-er film, but fails by refusing to give the girls much of a chance to kick ass in reality. The film’s premise that fantasy is the ultimate escape applies for the film itself: in your mind, you want it to be an awesome, but the fantasy is far superior than the reality we received.

TheAvett

Brothers

R a d i o h e a dKing of Limbs is not very traditional. Most of the songs are pretty out there. However, if you’ve listened to In Rainbows and you’re used to Radiohead’s sound and direction, you’ll appre-ciate the album more than if it is your first radiohead album. Definitely get your feet wet before you jump into this album, but over-all it is a worthwhile listen.

The Avett Brothers are a mix of banjo and serenade; rock and down-home. Recently they came to the Tuscaloosa Amphitheatre, where I had a chance to see them perform. They not only played an almost two hour set, but they put on a great show, even during the slow songs.

My name is Ruben A. Montecino, I’m 25 years old Chilean.I started taking photographs as a hobby. I love this way to express so much emotion without speaking, to make known beauty of plac-es, people and elements of daily life from different perspectives. I decided to do it professionally and am in the process of study.I am inspired by beauty, music, and aesthetics. Every time I hear a song it inspires a picture and the same with film. This makesme different from the rest, along with my editing process and pers-pective. I love fashion photography, casual, art; there are somany different branches. Somehow I have developed the abilityto see beyond things, and the need to capture and see otherpoints of view of everyday things. This was during the time I began todesire to learn this beautiful art. Currently I have a Sony Alpha 330.

“Every time I hear a song itinspires a picture and

the same with film.”

My name is María Victoria Baraga. I was born in Buenos Aires, Ar-gentina in 1984. In 2009, I graduated as a photographer from the Es-cuela Argentina de Fotografía. I like taking pictures of people, es-pecially from my own personal circle who change and go through different roles. I am not interested in capturing reality, but the way I feels and think of what I perceive, so that my models end up being just an extension of myself. I consider most of my work nostalgic and melancholic, and feel strongly attracted to sadness. Feelings are first for me instead of what is rational and I assume that most of my cre-ative process happens during an unconscious phase. I usually work with analog cameras. This allows me to step away from the imme-diacy and obsession of checking the result in the moment, so that the picture taken is not tangible and it remains as part of my imagination. I celebrate the wait, the surprise for the unexpected, and the mistake. At the moment, I am giving lessons of analog photography in my own

studio.

“I celebrate the wait, the surprise for the unexpected, and the mis-

take”

“You Ever Fight, Kid?”A short story by Brandon Varner

He wiped the gravel from his brow as he looked into the blinding ceiling lights, an-ticipating another blow. A foot filled his field of vision, and sent him into a dark world of cold stars. How did Ben John-son find himself in the stellar world of pit fighting? He needed the money.He looked through swollen eyes at his trainer who was dragging him to a corner of the shale circle. “C’mon Ben! You can’t let this bum take you down! You’ve been in jams like this before!” Lucien screamed at him.“I don’t know Lou. It doesn’t seem like I’m gonna pull this one out.” Said Ben, in between bouts of shoveling coughs.“Dammit, boy! Don’t you realize what’s at stake here?! We’ve gotta take this bum to the woodshed if you’re gonna advance!”“But I can’t! He’s hitting me too hard! I can’t even see out of my left eye anymore!”Cool water splashed his face as the echo-ing bell signaled the beginning of another round in the Y.M.G. Steel Warehouse. Ben shuffled wearily to the center of the cir-cle with his dukes up. That big black bum was going down no matter what. The big man opened up with jabs that sent shock-waves through Ben’s mind. A stumbling fool was trapped in that ring by a hopeless situation. Without two nickels to rub to-gether, this fight meant Ben’s possible next meal. The Depression was keeping him out of a job, out of a house, out of a life. An uppercut rocked him. No time to ponder his predicament. A ringing head. Gravel pierc-ing his bare feet. The tattered cloth hanging from his shredded hands. His face a crimson

mask. A fist drawing closer, a right hook.Ben ducked under the punch, in the pro-cess unleashing a furious wallop to the hulking brute’s ribs. An audible crack sig-nified a weakness that was open for the fu-ture. Fists slammed into our hero’s back. Down on his knees, Ben made a desperate effort to turn the tide. He torpedoed into his opponent’s solar plexus. With no air to breathe, the big palooka couldn’t attack.Ben shot a knee into the trachea of his opponent, flipping the man onto his back. Blood ran down the corners of our hero’s lips as they curled into a smile. A man on his back meant one thing in this unforgiving arena: victory.With the black man on the ground pummeled into submission, Ben stood up with his arms held high. A hard fought win in the circle meant dozens of dollars…he’d eat for weeks.Ben Johnson put on his derby and pulled his oxford shirt over his scarred back. The boots he got in the Great War kept his feet drier than those other bums with their shredded socks and wingtips. He walked up to the window to claim his prize money.“Here you go, son, four dollars.” The ca-shier flung the scratch onto the counter.“Are you fucking joking, mack?” “Hey, you fight for Rollins okay? Don’t ar-gue with me about the rates. If you don’t want the money, I’ll gladly take it back.”The cashier received a grudgingly defeated look in exchange for the money. Ben and his trainer collected the paltry sum and left the building. The sun was hot on Ben’s eyes and wounds as he crossed the threshold between the building and outdoors. The hat with its

sweatband laden with caked up blood was a welcome ally in the war against the light.

“Hey Lou…”“Yeah?”

“You ever think that we should do some-thing else to make money?”

“Now why would you go and say a fool-ass thing like that?”

“I’m just thinking that it’s not the best use of my talents.”

“You know, I’ve got a lot to give.”“Talents? What talents? You’re dumb mus-

cle, Ben. Don’t deceive yourself.”“Maybe you’re right, Lou. Maybe I should

stop thinking about it.”“People don’t pay you to think, son. They

pay you to fight.”A silent, and thoughtful walk was in store for the compatriots as they made their way back to the slum land where they shared a cramped and dank apartment. The men stole glances at each other, each time recoiling

coolly with pangs of disgust. “Lou, I don’t think you should be my trainer

no more.”“What the hell are you talking about?”

“You don’t give me any respect. You think I’m a idiot.”

“Don’t you mean AN idiot?”“That’s what I meant. And you knew it! You

just felt like you had to correct me!”“Well, I DON’T WANT YOU RUNNING AROUND TALKING LIKE A DUM-

BASS!” “…”

“WHAT?”Silence hung on the champions lips. The champion promised that he would fight un-til he couldn’t fight anymore. And that day was apparently rapidly approaching. He had

grown tired of the violence, tired of the kill or be killed world that he had lived in since his pop died when he was 12. He couldn’t hit the books, so he hit the rich kids. He hit the streets, he hit the mom and pop stores. He hit anything that had a till and a lazy ca-shier that wasn’t older than dirt. It couldn’t be any easier to make some fast cash, but he wanted to make some money that last-ed. 4 dollars would probably buy him an-other week of carefully planned meals and a rumbling stomach for two more days.As the men stopped on the stoop of the tene-ment, they locked eyes. Lucien Miller froze in the wake of those reddish brown eyes that oozed through those swollen slits. He knew that his meal ticket was gone. The champ walked inside, and the trainer sat on a rusted manhole cover, his head in hand. He barely noticed the bum with a drink in his brown paper bag. The bum was shov-ing people aside with relative ease, so he could spew into the gutter. His roar echoed through the concrete jungle at midnight, seemingly halting all action. Miller slowly walked up to the hunched behemoth and said:

“Hey…You ever fight, kid?”-BV

We’re starting to look into advertising for the maga-zine as a way to make the magazine cheaper for all!

If you’re interested, you have two options:

1: You can buy ad space for a set price through PayP-al. Depending on how much space you require, rates will vary. You can use an ad you created yourself, or for an additional fee we will create one for you that you may use in the magazine and anywhere else you

wish to advertise.2: The second option is similar. You will be given a set amount of space and we will offer to create an ad for you, if you would like. However, instead of paying for the space with money, you would buy a set amount of the magazines to sell in your estab-lishment, be it a store or a website. If you sell all the

magazines, the ad is completely free!

If you are interested, message the Editor-in-Chief at MeganAlacuhzam@gmail.com.

Thanks for reading, and we look forward to work-ing with you!

:)

Until our paths cross again...