The Way

Recently my Mom has been looking through old movies, the highlights of which she shared with me. We talked about how in the early years Tom (undeserving of the title, Father) was a nice guy and there were good times. While driving into work tonight I heard on the radio The Way by Fastball. This song always reminds me of waking up, or more likely getting in at three or four in the morning and finding Tom about to head of to the beach with his metal detector. He would usually ask if I wanted to join him and often I would. There was something about these early morning trips in which we could be comfortable around each other for my part I was usually enjoying a mild buzz from whatever drugs I had the night before. As for Tom I suspect he was just happy to go play in the sand. Speculating on the motives of this individual can be hazardous to ones mental health, so frankly I try to avoid doing so. Never the less the cool Florida mornings lent themselves well to relaxed vibrations and lite conversation. We would arrive on the beach he headed off in search of the treasure that never came. As I found a comfortable niche to watch the sun rise and smoke, on these outings I perpetually carried a walkman radio. Listening to oldies or classic rock stations mostly, surveying the eastern coast, this was the best way to come off an acid trip. The Way was a small song as far as I know and the band never got much traction. Its funny, but I think I heard the song more this year than the year it debuted. Something in the tempo and lyrics caught me and it seemed to embody these mornings. A point when the natural order takes a break and allows everyone to catch their breath and remember: It’s just a game, relax. Eventually we’d pack it in Tom heading up the beach with trash and a few baubles, mostly trash. One thing I noticed about Tom on a trip like this is that he had no sense of whimsy. This was noticeable specifically on the occasion he found a shovel. I propose he mount it with a plague describing an epic battle, the way some people do with fish. Now this honestly was meant mostly as a joke but he dismissed it completely out of hand, as if there was not even the possibility of comedy. Then and now I feel incredibly sad about that. all his wonder for life was striped away leaving him bare in the wilderness, a tiger snapping at shadows. But I digress, I see now that this ritual was not the connection I thought at the time. It was merely physical proximity with an absence of hostility. How pathetic that bonding moments between he and I where no more than brief armistices. If I had realized that then I’d probably have gone mad.


http://youtube.com/watch?v=b0wfu3tOrtQ

All-Star Superman No. 10

Fair warning I am going to come of as a huge jackass, so please take into account that I am looking at this from a philosophical stand point not a personal one.
I don’t understand the fascination with dying children especially those dying of disease in a first world hospital. Disease is a fact of human life it happens, the greater injustice is people dying due to the lack of care or interest. Nations where the powerful elite live in mansions and the peasant class lives a meager existence often without the bare necessities of live. Superman has always trod a fine line between doing enough and doing to much and this feels like one of those times he crossed it, I understand why he would after all he’s a big softy and I love him for it. Its people’s reactions I just don’t understand. What makes the life of a child more important than the life of an adult, is there an age limit when death a despair stop being heartbreaking? The only answer I could think of is when someone has had most of their three score and ten and we can collectively say well they had a good run. With that being said let the recriminations begin.

04.02.08 Comics

Every week I plan on writing my thoughts on the comics I’ve picked up that week so tuck in and enjoy. Oh and these will all contain spoilers so fair warning
I had a dream this morning that Astonishing X-men came out today and woke from my nap with a wonderful uplifting feeling. Though it didn’t there was plenty of good stuff; my lukewarm anticipation for Secret Invasion was blown away by fevered lust the last panel alone is worth the price Reed Richards has always grated my nerves. For a few months I had come to worry that Bendis was beginning a downward trend. However I am now confidant that while he may not have a golden touch he is far from fallen. I also enjoy the idea of revisiting old events though I am adverse to what I like to call super continuity. It is my opinion that comics have evolved to a point that writers should feel free to flitter hither and thither doing what they like and not let the ramifications overwhelm the story. We should all be aware of a sort of implied reset button when a writer leaves an on going title. Straczynski’s Spider-Man is a good example of this he ended his run and it was replaced, although there was potentially five more years of stories dealing with the events he set into motion. His successor has left me with a bad taste in my mouth. Like having a magnificent meal followed by a lump of shit you mistook for an after dinner mint. Comics have come so far since the 70’s why return with such stories as “Spider-Man Murderer!?”
Kick ass lives up to its name in the first issue I came to hate this kid, but at the end of the second I had to stifle a cheer.
As Countdown draws to a close it leaves me asking what the fuck, this is a clear example of super continuity gone wrong. Despite this I find it entertaining and will withhold judgment till after Final Crisis, my fanatical addiction devotion to Grant Morrison will allow nothing less.
The Twelve, what can I say that does this book justice? Straczynski, as I mentioned before is a master storyteller and this series continues that tradition. I especially love his hard look at anti-Semitism and the price we pay for betraying our ideals. My favorite part of this issue is when Victor says “I am a Jew” to which professor Everett replies “So am I”. Weston’s art is what gives this exchange such gravity, where Victor sees this as a mark of shame Everett’s defiant gaze shows us that the world can dictate what we must do it should never dictate who we are.
The second issue of Logan is a clear example of why continuity is not important. These mythological characters are so well defined that they can simply be plugged into situations allowing us to explore the human condition through the archetype’s ordeal.
The fanboy in me squeals with glee at the arrival of Buffy and Angel comics.
Finally because I know nothing about Kamandi and I failed to anticipate where countdown was heading, I picked up the countdown special. As I started reading it I soon realized I love Kamandi. It is so bad it’s great the severe Kirby art, the horrible, horrible science and terrible dialogue come together to form a spectacular crapfest of delightful proportions. I look forward to searching out the single issues and foisting them on the unprotected brain meats of my nephew.

Thoughts on All-Star Superman

The cover to Gant Morrison’s All Star Superman No. 1 is one of my favorite pieces of comic art. In the issue Superman is exposed to massive amounts of solar radiation resulting in apoptosis, the source of his power has started killing him on a cellular level. This is reflected on the cover. Superman sits on a cloud looking over his shoulder at the viewer with a serene smile. Through the clouds we can see metropolis and the sun half concealed by the horizon line. After reading the issue the imagery becomes apparent as a play on the idea of heaven, the sun now obviously setting, yet I have my own theory as to what will be the ultimate meaning once the series has concluded. Frank Quitely, Admittedly one of my least favorite artist has given use a view of the man of steal at his most human.

Introduction

Bloging: The internet equivalent of writing on a bathroom stall, the only difference being people read bathroom stalls. Well here it is the blog you never wanted on subjects you don’t care about by a person you do not know. Chalk-a-block with grammatical errors, typos, and more made up words than a speech by George W. The main focuses of this blog are comics, my own bizarre observations and ideas (I call them obdeas, see made up words). Feel free to comment just remember your hatred only makes me stronger.