Sometimes, I talk to God...

Yeah, wow, I just totally baseball batted you in the face with that huh? But no, it's true, I actually do find myself time to time questioning a being that most times I'm not sure even exists, though a part of me really wants to think does if for no other reason that I'll get to call him on some shit once I kick it. And no, I'm not talking getting down on my knees and praying. In fact, I guess I more talk at him than to him because yes, I might not be all there, but I don't actually have "conversations" with the Almighty like that homeless guy on the bus who looks like he lost a leg in Nam or something sad like that. I'm not that crazy. There are voices that tell me to rain down my righteousness on those around me, but those are different voices, not God's...

...that was a joke people. Moving on... sheesh. Tough crowd...

The most common thing that I say to the man in the sky, or in the center of the Earth or fucking whatever residence he/she/it/they whatever takes up is simply this: "Good One." Because, I don't know what it is, maybe I'm just that observant, maybe I for some reason think the Lord likes to play little games with me because I'm "special" or some shit, but my life is one of weird coincidences and irony. When something randomly happens to people, some odd little coincidence, some little twist of fate or what have you, someone normal would probably just think "Oh, just my luck!" or something along those lines... I just happen to think God, if one even exists that is, gets his jollies by playing little practical jokes on me. Arrogant huh?

It's been a stressful week. I finally can't take it anymore; the singleness, the sexual frustration, the soreness from working and lifting all week - I decide to have a cigarette (ooo, that sounds good right now) to take off the edge. I walk outside for that sweet little five minutes of release and... a rain drop hits me right in the middle of my forehead... its brothers and sisters soon come cascading down... Good One.

I walk through the aisles of the bookstore, iPod earbuds pumping some Alkaline Trio into my cranium. Only casually paying attention I turn the corner to see a cute little geek girl perusing some Trades in the comic aisle (and yes, this has happened before). At first I assume this is some manifestation of my pathetitude (copyright by me) but I hold back and see how this unfolds. She grabs a couple books and goes and has a seat. By herself. There she is, sitting and reading, sitting and reading. Five minutes go by. Ten. I'm off doing my own shuffling through some books, but keeping an eye on the prize. This is it. It's all lineup for me. Time to say hi. I have the perfect opening. I can do this. I can... wait... who's that guy coming up to her? Is he taking my catch? Is he... oh my, they're awfully friendly for some people that just have met. Real friendly. In fact... SON OF A BITCH!!!

... Good one

Sometimes he plans longterm too. Something simple like I might say "Good thing such and such didn't happen today here at work" and, to a normal person they might turn around and bam! There's that little jinx staring them right in the face. Just a little bad luck. It happens.

Not me. Nope. Mine will stretch out for weeks. A month later, there it is. At the most inopportune time possible and with the maximum potential for me hating my life. You dirty son of a bitch, you always get me right when I finally drop something out of my head don't you? Patient bastard. Can't help but respect that now can I?

I guess if this were the time for you to finally size me up for a straight jacket this would be it for even having typed all this, but I swear I'm not crazy. Mostly that's as far as it goes. "Good One". Yeah, on my more angry or,* ahem*, intoxicated days I'll get aggitated and start questioning the skies. Why the fuck can't you cut us a break? Why are those kids over there starving? Why are you letting these assholes fuck over those they deem "below them" just because they have the money and power to do so? One date! Why the fuck can't you just let me have one fucking date you asshole?!? What did I ever do to you? I'm a nice guy! I treat everyone around me with respect and compassion, how about a little over here for me buddy? JUST FOR ONCE CAN'T YOU FUCKING!.....

...wait...

... did that girl just look at me? Oooooo, she's cute. That's some nice work there partner. Glasses. Tattoos. Creamy skin. Alright, now we're talking! I accept your little apology. Let's just mosey on over and... oh, she's got a little chick friend. Eh, I guess I'll have to do a little work to get into this conversation but nothing I can't... My, they seem awfully friendly... really friendly...

OH YOU FUCKING BASTARD!!!

...


.... Good one...


Cheers...

Ooo... Internet Drama!

Eh, okay, not really so much drama, but there was a little bit of "verbal sparring" and whatnot going around some of the geek websites I frequent when it comes to reviewing comics on the Internet. First, it started with a little bit of a "tangent" I guess you would say by comics writer B. Clay More on his blog about Reviews on comics when it comes to Creator Owned material and so on. This prompted Josh from iFanboy, pretty much the only review site I even check out anymore besides seeing what my cohorts at AICN did up for the week, to comment on the blog, and talk about BCM's posting on the iFanboy site, and which to go even further caused a podcast to be formed between BCM and Josh about the "fine art" of the internet review and what exact is the worth or even point of them.

You (all five of you that is) can go and read up on everything if you want and decide what you think, but mainly I was posting this because yeah, I do Internet Reviews, and yeah, sometimes I wonder what the point is. With this age of the Internet, where everyone has a voice and an opinion they want to use with it, where people make random posts on random sites like this one and expect people to actually read and care, does anything anyone says even register? There's just so much information, and so much wordage being thrown about, it's almost like pissing in the wind don't you think? Sometimes I do, most times I do, but y'know, sometimes it really does seem to work out.

Sure, I know no one reads this nor cares, and that's fine because I've said many times I do this for me anyways. It gets the writer bug I tend to have out. Just like why I do the AICN review thing, because y'know, I read a lot of comics, and I tend to think I know what makes a good one, and I also personally hate to see good books get neglected in place of stuff that is highly mediocre yet more available. It downright pisses me off. And I know for the most part we're just a little corner of the Internet, but I also know that apparently some people care because I've gotten feedback on a forum or two that some people have actually picked up a book or two or three on my say so, which is neat, and occasionally I get a thank you from a creator here and there that appreciates the attention, for good or for bad honestly. But I just dunno if I like the concept of Internet Reviewing being so passe already, because while for the most part, the very most part, a review on the internet really is some random schlub, who really is pretty ignorant of the medium as a whole going on some rant or tangent or just had something they thought was clever or "snarktastic" to relay, but there are some good peeps who know their shit out there and do tend to help out here and there.

Basically, I don't want being a reviewer on the Internet to come down like having sex with an ugly person, where everyone does it and some point, but only the really bold ones admit to it.

Oh yeah, and I have a pretty huge ass response in detail to what BCM and Josh were talking about down towards the bottom of that "podcast" link up above. So, y'know, more random wordiness on my part. Yays...

And now I'm off to see the Alkaline Trio, and a midnight showing for Wanted. GiddythefuckUp...

Cheers...

Rage, rage against the dying of the...

... actually, just fucking rage.

It's been happening for about a week now. I can't help it. I contain it, but I can't stop it from welling up. I'll stop and say right now I don't want to drag this thing down with personal expression. I still do mostly like to type up little snippets and commentary of life or media(something I probably should do more than once a week) or whatever for the .0000000001% of the population of the globe that might read this because I happen to know you from a Messageboard forum, but it's been such an odd sensation, and I'm not sure what to make of it.

Part of me knows it's probably because I'm not happy with my station in life right now. I hate my job or, more accurately, I hate the fact that I'm not where I should be in it. I like the work, I like the people (for the most part, the exception being the reason I tend to shudder in anger at least once a day while on shift), but I should have moved up years ago, and right now the best I can apparently muster is trying to take openings two or three states over, for a 16% pay cut and the privilege to pay for my U-Hauling. Some people say Illegal Immigration is a problem rifling through our country, I say I wish I had about a dozen of them so that I could strap to a flat bed to them and mush them towards Kentucky for me. But I digress...

Is it the job thing? Is it the relationship thing i.e. new TV shows on fucking FOX get more playtime than I do? (god I had to stretch for that, but I think it worked) Is it the fact that it's an election year, and despite the fact that I fucking hate politics with every fiber of my being I can't stop paying attention to them and getting swept away with them? Hell, is it the fact that sometimes I really wish I was more of a writer besides doing the AICN thing (because, really, posting comic book reviews on a website is almost as minor as, uh, blogging about somewhat personal things on this site really) but I know that I don't have it in me except maybe some columnist ability?

All possible. All feasible. All... a good thing?

Obviously anger can lead to, or is a direct result of some bad frustration. Most of which in my case that could probably be relieved by a few bourbon mixes and a trip to the lovely ladies of the 'Port (don't let me fool you though, I have no idea where you can find more "prostitutionary" delights in this city. I'm just guessing. Honest Injun.) but sadly I quit drinking and am not much of a manwhore... and here's where I feel you pulling away from me.

But I think this can be a good thing, in doses. For the first time in a while I'm being proactive about getting a new job, maybe even in a new location, and while the prospects aren't terribly attractive it's still a step forward. I'm busting my ass working out like I haven't since back in the day when I was trying to shed my old fat-assed self and I want to be a machine by summer's end so that maybe, god forbid, instead of feverishly working this keyboard at this ungodly hour, maybe some cute little gal will appreciate all the work I'll be putting in these summer months and let me work her c-board for her (god, that made even me wince). Highly doubtful of course, but it could happen, and at the least I'm wanting to post more and more, and maybe even tighten up the little smidge of "professional" writing I actually do do each week.

This needs to be harnessed of course. Despite the energy it's giving me, I don't necessarily think I'm a fun person to be around right now. In fact, in some situations (like being around certain someones that are constantly rubbing me the wrong way wether they know it or not) I'm kind of downright scummy. I'm definitely not myself which despite obvious quirks, I tend to think is a pretty alright chap, and not too hard on the eyes if I may say. I don't want to calm down completely, because there's an edge here and I like it, but it could be such an easy fall over it with the slightest of tips.

Funny, most times I'm usually ranting that most people aren't angry enough about what is going on around them and here I'm trying to reign mine in. If I were any sort of real writer I could use all the excess I have flowing through me to infect others with and make them proactive. Instead I think I'm going to go furiously masturbate so I can end my restlessness tonight, finally stop "After the Eulogy" by Boysetsfire from playing in my head, and get some goddamned sleep.

God I'm such a weird little fucker.

Cheers...

Mojo

It's that time again. The personal life is stagnant. All the friends are either far away or might as well be as they get all schmoopie with their significant others instead of hanging. No friends. No girl. No one interesting. No one even remotely intriguing. The newest prospect also became one of the most irritating. Sweet to controlling bitch in under six seconds. Somebody call Guinness, I've got a record for them and would like a beer.

But that's fine. Every once and a while it pays to be brought back down like that. That's when it becomes time focus on everything else. Media. Culture. History. Politics. Information. Information. In. For. Mation.

There's books to be read. Stacks of them, prose and comic alike. David Eggers doing the Lost Boys. Chuck Palahniuk doing a faux oral-biography. Another, truer Oral-Bio on the legend, Hunter S. Thompson. Nothing has ever been truer than HST. Buy the ticket, take the ride. Get through these and buy some more.

Comics. So many comics. Doug TenNapel's awkward, thick lines forming his wild imagination. A phone book of Tom Beland. A smattering of First-Second and Top Shelf. Always the goods. And some "retro". A run of New Teen Titans literally as long as my arm. A new stack of floppies every week. Where do we find the time?

Movies. NetFlix, bringing me dozens of flicks I missed the past year despite making over fifty trips to the Loews. Mostly Indie, but also some classics. Summer Blockbusters galore, thanks to the comic book industry. Hulk was the most recent with almost a dozen weeks straight of something cool or at least humorous looking coming from here out. Makes me almost wish I knew what a Friday night off was like.

Music. Concerts keep on coming in. Alkaline Trio in under two weeks. The Gutter Twins next month. NOFX and New Found Glory coming to the Burgh this fall. Fuck I wish the Warped Tour hadn't gone to shit. New discs by the Briggs, the Trio, and Less Than fucking Jake all in the next month. Still to comes in '08 by NFG, Bouncing Souls, Rancid, Ryan's Hope, Rise Against, The (International) Noise Conspiracy, maybe even Madcap and so on. I think I just filled the cup...

Politics. We have a race now. One man is preaching Hope and Change (we'll see). The other is fighting a war on senility (Patton wept). We fuck this up and we at least we'll be able to tell our children (well, your children. The only "offspring" I want is the 18 year old Brazilian gal I plan on "adopting" when I hit nearer my 40's) that we were there for the death of an Empire. There's research to be done. Candidates to be evaluated. Judged. Scrutinized. Will you be our guy (or gal, I'm no sexist)? Or will I be sharpening my blades to crucify you with later? There's people to feed, homes to build, jobs and industries to bring back home, and soldiers that need to see their families again.

DON'T. FUCK. THIS. UP!!

Productivity. There's reviews to be written. Comics do come out every week you know (thank god). Interviews need conducted (why they come to me, I don't fucking know, but they do and I like to help out when I can). Maybe even some scripting to be done. Who knows? I still think I suck, but might as well try to not. Body needs work. Muscles are getting to where I want them, now it's time to see those abs better. Sprinting needs to be done. Gains need to be pained. Let's get that body fat %age down and try and snag a tan while we're at it shall we? Job is bringing me down again, let's work on that too. Boss is a lazy fucking loud-mouth, maybe we should go some place where he's not. It's a start. Hop to.

Might be time for another tattoo, but I really have an eye on a Flat Panel by summer's end. Hrms...

There's a start. A guideline. Let's see if it holds. Five hours of sleep now, followed up by 18 hours of exercise, work, the written word and some video gaming glory. Again I say: Buy the Ticket, Take the Ride.

Cheers...

"They"

Has anyone else noticed just how much "they" get brought up? You know "they". Those guys. Them. They did that thing that you liked, or hated. They're casting Captain America as we speak. Or they're choosing who gets killed off in the next issue of FINAL CRISIS or whatever. Or they're giving the green light for another season of your favorite new show. You know who I'm talking about. Or do we?...

See, I've just recently found it kind of funny how much of our "lives", you know, our recreational sides are spent talking about "they". What direction they're going with our comics, what remnants of our childhoods they're resurrecting in motion picture form, or even what laws they're trying to pass. All these "invisible" people getting so much of our breaths as we discuss amongst ourselves what they're doing and how it affects us, and yet we probably haven't met a one of them. Hell, we probably can't even call them out of a lineup if they were in front of us. Really, does anyone else find this kind of funny?

Editors, producers, writers, musicians, artists, senators, colorists, republicans, democrats, directors... creators and those guys behind the creators, all in their magical little lands, making the world go round in their own little or big ways. We talk about them so much. We praise them for their creativity when it amuses us, we damn them for wasting our time when they fail. We curse them when they cost us money, we begrudgingly nod approval when they send us $600 checks. We call them geniuses, we call them hacks, we say they're somewhere in between. Some we don't even talk about at all because they're just "little guys" in their own right, but they make the process happen with their own contributions so we throw them in the overall use of the term, but we have no idea who they are unless you sit all the way through the credits.

Who are all these people? What do they do in their free time? Do they think about the next project? Do they go out on the porch to enjoy a cold beverage and the sunset like us? Do they stand around their own water coolers talking about something a fellow creator or man of power did before they go and try to either outdo that person, or borrow from them? What do we have to do to become one of them?

Do we even want to? Seems like a lot of pressure in some of these cases. Even for someone as "lowly" as a comic book writer. People can be fickle; I should know, I'm a person too sometimes.

It's something to think about isn't it? Well, maybe later it will be. The season finale of LOST is coming on. I want to see what kind of shenanigans they pull out next...

Cheers...

Repulsor Rays and Dead Hookers...

Just two of the things I got to combine this past weekend in between bits of "let's see how much we can pile on Joe before he finally untaps his latent ability to kill people with his mind".

Fuck how I wish I could kill with my mind.

Anyways, yes, I did get to entertain myself with both a viewing of Iron Man this weekend, and some immersing of myself in the Next Gen version of Grand Theft Auto. Both very awesome, both something I'm looking forward to doing again soon when I have the free time, if I have the free time (of course, I guess I could GTAing right now instead of doing this nonsense, but eh, bonus Hockey is on the teley. Speaking of which, GO PENS! I hope all the Flyers and their mothers die of monkey AIDS).

To start with GTA since it came first, I can say that I'm really quite enjoying the game. I've only logged about a dozen hours onto it so far, but this thing is so overwhelming I can't tell if I want to just keep going in small doses so I don't completely freak out trying to do everything, or if I indeed want to freak the fuck out and go on a 14 hour drug running and hooker killing binge. I mean, when the opportunity to commit homicide on our street walkers presents itself, digital or otherwise, you take it. They have no souls and it's your right as one with that otherwordly essence to remove them from society, get me?

.... moving on.

But as far as the game goes, I think this is definitely going to be the best installment by the time the story starts to resolve and I can fully judge it. Niko is a great character, all the other players are equally endearing from who I've encountered so far, and the city is so fucking vibrant it's intoxicating. I'm much more interested in exploring its streets and alleyways than I am the Steel City I reside in.

Gameplay-wise though, I'm not so excited about a couple things which definitely radiate enough to immediately dismiss this as a "perfect" game like so many mags and sites with their 10 out of 10's and whatnot would, or at least should, imply. For one, the targeting system to me still seems pretty clunky. It locks on hard enough, but even though it's supposed to be a simple push of the joystick towards the next target that doesn't always happen until you're exerting a large amount of effort to make it do so. And free-aiming tends to be a tussle with the controller as well from my experience. The new driving physics too I think are a bit off. Oh, I know they deliberately went with more of a "rag doll" engine to make it all the more awesomer when you completely send a pedestrian flying over your hood, and sometimes even Niko, but the constant skid outs the cars do, and the sad ease with which they can and will flip while on the run is infuriating. I mean, overall this doesn't completely ruin the gameplay, but it knocks it down a bit enough to make me not really even want to do missions and settle with learning this fucking massive city (of which I know my way around maybe 10% of it so far. Sheesh).

All in all, a 9 out of 10 for the characters, story, and the glorious amounts of chaos within. Maybe a 9.2 for giving the option to select a price range for the services all those walking pieces of crushed self-esteem that wander the streets of LC offer.

And on to more comic booky pursuits, I did indeed dig the hell out of Iron Man. Pretty much everything you'd want out of a superhero flick and a summer blockbuster. I'd say from those aspects I like this just as much as I do Batman Begins with a slight edge to BB because I thought it was executed better technically. What I mean is that I think Iron Man had maybe some pacing issues, especially towards the end as it rushed to get out the big bag for the final showdown and whatnot. But Downey Jr. was the fucking mans, just like Bale in the Batsuit. Those two are easily the best castings ever done in comic book films.

The action was great for the most part too, except again that last battle seemed rushed and a little bit of some good old "Robot" smashing. Of course you want to see Stark win using his brains, but two minutes of car tossing, repulsor raying smashy smash is not enough to get you going. But a good origin retelling, a great build up of all the supporting cast, and that Cup Filling moment after the credits made the inner fanboy that I typically leave beaten and locked up deep down in side me running around his cage in ecstatic glee. Of course that means it's time to drown the uppity fuck in Indie comics to get that out of the system, but for now I'll let him have his moment.

I guess there's more Bonus Hockey to be played, so maybe I'll do all that up there now with some QUEEN & COUNTRY as I multi-task. Lord knows it's the only fucking way I'm going to get any geek shit done this next month. I gotta find a way to read comics and kill hookers at the same time. I wonder if they're sturdy enough to cover someone's face and suffocate them with... hrms...

Jack Thompson wept.

Cheers...

Do you ever catch yourself...

Caught in a repetition? Not so much with how each day unfolds. I understand the basic "Get up, have breakfast, go to work..." blab blah blahsense, I'm speaking more about how we speak and act. The banal stuff. The same jokes we repeat until they're not funny anymore, but occasionally still are so we keep with them. The same greetings, the same little clever responses to the same questions people ask us day in and day out.

"How are you doing?"

- Oh, I'm here.

"What's going on?"

- Oh, y'know. Another day in paradise.

And if someone actually has the gall to say "Sounds like someone has a case of the Mondays" you have my permission to decapitate them with a shovel. But still, you get my meaning right? It's so easy to fall into a routine. Even when you think you're being witty or clever, you're still probably reciting bits that either someone else popularized via the old cathode-tube box or some movie or song, or you have that little piece of you, that little thing you invented all so long ago and that you keep on keeping on with it no matter how little a response it gets anymore because, let's face it, no one is really listening to you anyway after a while because they generally know what to expect by now it's so easy to fall into a bit of complacency.

Have you ever tried to get out?

Easy to fall into, hard to get out. Like a Tiger Pit in a rain storm. It's so easy to become set in your ways, even when you blatantly are trying not to. What you eat, how you dress, little habits like what order you do the morning three S's in and so on, and we're just talking simple every day things like that.

What about what you read, or watch, or listen to? See where I'm going now? I said I wanted this blog to be mostly about media and that didn't I? Weren't you paying attention?

Of course not, no one reads this bloody thing. But the point still remains. Everything becomes a routine at some point. Whether we snap ourselves out of it or not is up to us. And as simple as it sounds it really is a dedicated effort because we humans more than ever tend to get easily distracted. There's just so much stuff out there, it's overwhelming, and thus the idea of falling into a comfort zone becomes much more reliable proposition, and how our eyes, ears, and brains can become much more tuned to stuff a little on the generic side. Sure, sometimes something genuinely original, or most likely unique, will come our way and we'll embrace it, but for the most part is seems these kinds of ideas or creations get passed over for something more familiar. Something safer.

I've always wondered what happens when, how, or if a creator, a writer, a musician whatever realizes they too are in this zone. For I like many am just a common lay person, as uninspiring as the next person as I'm showing right now with such riveting prose, and I wonder how the minds of those that we look to for our entertainment and our catchy phrases. Thing is, like I said it's so hard to be original as is, I've noticed that a lot of these artists tend to just take somewhat familiar archetypes and genres and just perform the shit out of them. There's a lot to be said for something familiar yet FRESH. Execution is always key, though as I'm noticing you can always keep a good sized audience enthralled with just something just plain catchy.

To bring this to comic books, which again is really what I'm trying to talk about here, I think that's how you have an industry in the state that it is. That's how you get certain books selling at obscene quantities definitely not in proportion to the quality therein. But they're safe. They're familiar. We know the characters, we know what to expect. You know what you're getting with a Spider-Man book. Superman. Batman. Not even talking superheroes (though obviously that's where this diatribe is mostly going to make its point) look at something like the top selling Dark Horse book, Buffy. Or even FABLES from Vertigo. Sure, the storytelling might be new and working on a larger scale than we've seen in comics since maybe even the SANDMAN was in print, but it's still a book about characters we grew up reading about, or more apt being read to about as we were tucked in at night.

Why is there an X-FORCE book selling in the Top 20 considering the memories of the 90's it should be invoking? The Top 20 is your basic assortment of Batman, X-Men, Superman, Spider-Man etc titles, some of which may in fact have a quality score justifying its placement sure, but most likely not. "Run of the mill" I think is too strong a term here, but "Complacently average" I think does the trick. Why don't people even know FEAR AGENT exists? Why did a mini-series written by the front man for arguably the most popular band on the planet (THE UMBRELLA ACADEMY and MY CHEMICAL ROMANCE respectively) get outsold by something like 70+ books a month when it was rolling? Sure, you've got your SCOTT PILGRIM catching on like wildfire, but why does a book from the same company like WASTELAND struggle to find new readers?

And it's not like any of those books I just mentioned are terribly original, but they are unique in a medium lopsidedly dominated by one particular genre. But even books wholeheartedly in that genre tend to get overlooked simply because they lack familiarity. THE UMBRELLA ACADEMY doesn't have Spider-Man. THE ORDER didn't have Wolverine. GODLAND doesn't sport the Fantastic Four and so on. Instead of finding books like these, we just instead have a readership that buys what they buy, reads what they read, and bitches about half of all of it, yet continues to support it with their dollar.

Complacency.

I just don't get it, and yet I too tend to fall prey to it. I like teh punk rock. Apparently, I really like teh punk rock because it's a huge percentage of my 5000 songs on my iPod. But I catch myself enough I think to branch out and find new stuff. To find some Folk music Rocky Votolato style. To sample some random Metalcore like Bullet For My Valentine. To hear the odd instrumental sounds of Battles. But is it enough?

Well, is it? How much do you really care about your music? Your movies? Your comics? What do you plan to do about it, because I would genuinely like some new pursuits.

And while I think upon this, I believe it's time for some major Pwnage Warhawk style. Because I am a simple man, with simple needs, and a desire to blow things to fucking Valhalla and back with my trust Tank and Proximity Mines.

Cheers...