The thing that intrigues me most about Elizabeth Vega is that she talks the way she writes. I'll never forget the many conversations we've had, whether sober or over drinks, during which Elizabeth has poured her heart out to me. Each word that comes from her lips or her fingers conveys the passion of 20 orgasms. The love she gives to people who are experiencing loss, joy, pain, life, and death fills their hearts during their most desperate and vulnerable moments. To call this woman friend is truly an honor. Meet Elizabeth Vega: The Mistress of Death. Blue: Where are you from?
Elizabeth: I’m a brown skinned girl from New Mexico. My feet took their first steps in the borderland of Deming and Las Cruces. Surrounded by red rock, yucca and stony mountains, I was immersed in all the historical and cultural contradictions contained within that desert soil. Green Chile on Cheeseburgers, Michael Jackson blasted at quinceneras, pick-up trucks and low riders cruising down Main Street on a Friday night.
B: Tell us a little about your background.
E. I am pretty unconventional and have my own life rhythm. I have two grown sons and have called many places home – New Mexico, Virginia, Kentucky and Missouri. I have had many strange jobs including hot dog vendor and singing telegram performer. I have had an array of “careers.” I was in the Navy for four years, a fact that surprises most people who know me because I question authority OFTEN. However, my chief did tell me that I was the only person he met that went through the experience completely unaffected. To this day that is one of the nicest things anyone has ever said about me.
